Category: Trips

Across Two Februaries

Oh come on, I’ve made worse references.

Tonight I did some dp.n maintenance. I now own my domain for at least the next two years. I have no recollection of whether my hosting package automatically renews or not, so the site may still dissapear in five more days. I’ll try to pre-empt that.

I also upgraded my WordPress software. That’s basically everything that you’re looking at. I used to write 100% of my own code, and now I’m lazy and let blog software handle my posts, layout and pages, subpages, and photo gallery. Do I feel any less hack? Not really. I could still do it the hard way if I wanted.

I backed up my entire website, plus an additional WordPress backup, PLUS I imported it to my wordpress.com account (the software comes from wordpress.org, which is functionally an entirely different entity). I was getting ready to manual install the software and then I had an incredible idea. What if my host’s control panel would do it for me automatically? Turns out my hunch was right, and rather than spending the next three hours hacking away at code and uploading it all, here I sit with a new install of WordPress on my server, and all it took was three clicks and about 40 seconds.

At any rate, it probably looks no different to you. No changes even for those (few) of you who login to leave comments. My control panel is organized a little differently (different, not better). My posts will have a couple more categories to go into (I had reached the limit of number of categories I could have in the previous software version, but that number has since been increased). But no automatic aesthetic differences.

So was I prepared to upgrade, even before I knew it would be easy? Well, basically the entire reason I upgraded my software was to get rid of this annoying little message that told me every time I logged in that I needed to upgrade from version 3.1 to version 3.7. And the first thing I did when I finished was login to WordPress and glance up at the top of my dashboard.
Frakking message is still there. It now just says I need to go from version 3.7 to 3.7.1. Manually. Yeah right.

In fact, it will probably be right around February 2011 that I bother to make any major changes, when domainsite and intersabre start reminding me that my domain is going to expire again. But it has definitely been fun to look through all my files as they downloaded through my ftp client and take note of all that I’ve written, all that I’ve learned about web hosting, software, plugins, and writing since February 16th-ish last year. And certainly to think about all the things I’ve had to write about since then: Hospitality, smiles, children, airplane rides (ten), different countries, states and a districts, a dozen new best friends in an 11-hour range of time zones, a jungle, unexpected returns to favorite places, a new instrument, a new language, brothers, a brother, my brother and bros (nope, not a typo), and the Truth that permeates every one.

"Scratch That"

I remember this time when I was in junior high. We were on vacation in Atlanta during Christmas break, getting to hang out with family and friends there. In fact, it probably wasn’t more than six months after we had moved away from Atlanta, because as I remember I was still weirded out by the fact that my best friend was dating the girl I’d broken up with because I’d moved.

But weirded out or not, it didn’t affect our relationship at all. The two of us were happy to hang out together, and one night during the week we went to the mall. And by “we went,” I mean that my mom dropped us off and then came back to meet us at the entrance to J.C. Penny sometime before 9:00.

I thought my friend was the coolest guy on the face of the earth. He saw every movie that hit the theatres. He played trombone (which was infinately less dorky than the clarinet). He wore funny t-shirts and a backwards ball cap, and actually had 20 pounds on me that allowed him to fit into JNCOs. For a not-quite-thirteen-year-old in 1998, that was as cool as it got.

We looked around at PacSun and wherever else he thought was cool. And at some point we stopped at some trendy smoothie shop that had just opened to get a snack.

They guy working there was probably sixteen, but he seemed immensley older and cooler than me, or even my best friend. I don’t really remember anything about him except that he had spikey blond hair and a black apron and he had the kind of chill, trendy vocabulary that I understood, but never would have strung together in cool sentences in the same way.

I also remember him because he genuinely smiled at us the whole time we were there.

Most people working at hole-in-the-wall food joints in the mall will only talk to you for the bare minimum amount of time and with the fewest, least enthusiastic amount of words that it takes to recieve an order and hand you a meal, all the while with a totally slack expression. That goes double when they are dealing with two twelve-year-old boys, who they seem to assume are too idiotic to understand the menu and count change on their own (and which I was always prepared to take offense to, as my mom encouraged me to order my own food from about as early as I could actually remember what I liked at different places).

At any rate, the guy actually treated us like we were his buddies, and didn’t seem condescending at all. He probably just laughed to himself after we left, but he did seem like a really nice guy. And my friend just totally fed off his cool demeaner and trendy slang. I recognized that for what it was even then, but I still wished I was as cool as either one of them.

After we had both ordered, my friend decided to make a change. He had asked for an orange soda with whatever he got. He probably decided he was running low on fundalation, something else I recognized for what it was even at the time, but made no mention of (in sociology, that’s dealing with a “faulty performance,” which we do because we assume at some point in the future we will need someone else to ignore a faulty performance on our part- I did pay attentionin Mrs. Belloat’s class!).

At any rate he said (and this is one of the few things about that night I remember so clearly), “You know what… scratch that orange soda.” To which the cool smoothie maker responded “Scratch the orange soda? Okay.”

Why in the heck am I telling you this story? Because the other day I used the phrase “scratch that.” Nobody other than me would take any notice of that. I don’t even realize when other people use that phrase. But it is a phrase that I just would not incorporate into my own vocabulary at all. It slips out when I’m trying to sound cool.

It’s not even a really cool phrase. But I strongly associate it with the spikey-haired trendy teenager and my cool friend that didn’t want an orange soda. I wonder how many of these things slip into our speech or our thoughts unconciously. It actually surprises me that I remember why this one entered my pwn personal lexicon, and interests me to no end that even though I know where it came from and why I say it and can distinguish it from other choices of oration, there it remains in the pool from which I draw my words.

Unexpected Topic

There are eight people in my Spanish class, and when I walked in this morning at quarter of the hour or so, four of the others were already there, and were talking about the differences between smoking cigarettes and pot. I’ll come back to this later.

Class began pretty normally this morning, and Thursday being a “class” day rather than a “lab” day, the first third of class tends to be more culture than language. One of the things I like about that is that during our (relatively ADD) discussion, Sr. Turner tends to turn to me for comparisons since I’m the only one in the class who has been to Latin America. He’ll talk about open-air markets in Chile and then ask “How about in Ecuador?”

At some point he made mention that I had been there for three months and one of the girls in the class asked what exactly I had been doing there. Something I didn’t even think about when I began to answer was what my immediate response turned out to be, compared to what it would have been last year. Had I ever been asked that in Raquel’s class when I took the previous level of Spanish a couple semesters ago, I’m sure I would have told them I’d gone with a short-term team and worked in a church and an orphanage. But out loud to a class, I that seriously would have been all I’d have said. And while I kept it brief this morning, I did my best to give a pretty full picture of hosting and a little bit about the whole reason for Missions.

The observation I did make, pretty much instantly (I automatically critique myself any time I talk in class) was that conversation had gone from smoking pot to being the hands and feet of Christ in Ecuador in under twenty minutes.

Even cooler was that Julian (a.k.a. Mr. Turner, the professor) instantly said “And what was the name of the church that you and Jerry go through?” Impressed that he’s already connected me and Jerry even though we’re in different classes, I ignored the detail of with whom the two of us were mostly working and told him Christ Episcopal Church, which he immediately scribbled down on his class notes (which I know he’ll look at several times before Monday). But wait, it gets better. Our professor then goes on this rant about how important it is to help people and how everyone should be involved in Missions.

Something else I noticed was his mention that even though he’s traveled pretty extensively, he regrets that all of it has been either for school or to support himself, when he was teaching English in Spain (something that strikes a chord in my family, anyway). I talked to Lydia today (who has now made it into three posts in just over a week) about how I have the exact opposite situation. Everywhere I’ve ever been has been for Missions and not for study or tourism or anything else. Which is not a problem, especially since I mentioned that we’re all on a Mission all the time anyway. Just something that keeps getting higher on my list to change.

As an overall observation, I just appreciate God’s use of unexpected people, places, and times to get a chance to share a little bit about Him. I feel like this is going to be a pretty cool opportunity with Mr. Turner, and maybe God struck a chord with somebody else in the room today too, or at least opened an opportunity for further growth, particularly some of the things I’ve been asking for lately. And as a sneak peak, I turned in my sermon theme to Diane today, and it’s amazing how much the same it is with this paragraph. Good thing the whole thing isn’t written yet. This is why I quit believing in coincidence a long time ago.

What a View

Block 1 Travel Day: 2

Block 1 On Ground Day: 0

5:15 Wake-up call. That was not nearly enough sleep. I woke up to Bryan telling us the time, and then I really woke up to Teddy shouting at him from the bunk above me “Bryan, why do you have to be so CHIPPER?!” We don’t have many morning people in this group.

At 6ish the bus rolled in. It was a private bus for Reynaldo’s group and ours, which is really nice. No stopping like the public bus every time someone waves it down, lots of space underneath and in the racks and just for seats. Plus the Ecuadorians really like the front of the bus and the gringos really like the back, so we all sat together (which in retrospect was really worthless because all we did was sleep).

Incidentally, Reynaldo is a Columbian missionary who does camps like this all the time. His ministry is who is really putting on the VBS this week and we’re just doing backup, extra manpower, maybe some skits and songs. We don’t really know.

We hit Atahuno pretty early and hung out at the outdoor gymnasium of the local school. Turns out that having 13 Gringos and a bunch of strange South Americans show up is an excuse to not have class all day. Some of the kids had only seen white people once or twice before, so we were quite the attraction. We played basketball with the kids and had some breakfast in the bleachers, untoasted bread with jelly and orange juice. Surprisingly good, actually.

Everyone got a bit of quiet time while we waited for the planes. I totally forgot to explain this in yesterday’s post, but our original plan to fly from MAF in Shell was nixed because of lack of fuel. All the aircraft fuel is tied up in customs, and they literally have enough fuel to get us in, but potentially not out. We’ve prayed a lot about fuel. We could be potentially walking out of the jungle, which would take a Huaorani 10 hours non-stop or a Gringo 2 days. We really don’t want to do that and then have teams come in immediately after. So it was a little bit tense “quiet” time, and not that quiet at that as there were several games, including the lively gringos and Fabian vs. tons of kids basketball competition going on.

At some point one of the kids noticed the guitar. A guitar case is one of those things that is hard to disguise under a Christmas tree, so it certainly sticks out of small backpacks and gas tanks piled up in a gym. Sarah told them it was mine and manged to get me to play. It was actually pretty fun. They asked me if I knew any Christmas songs, which I don’t out of my head (on guitar, anyway) so I just played Relient K in English and they didn’t have a clue what I was saying anyway. I did decide to brave “Eres Todopoderoso” in front of them about half-way through the ad-hoc concert. That whole gym exploded into song.

(Notice the shirt I’m wearing in the picture below. If you’re viewing this on facebook, you’ll have to go to my site to see it.)

Danny playing in Atahuno

When the planes weren’t there by mid-day, we mosied on over to the restaurant down the street. Apparently 14 people is an extreme amount to be cooking for, and the owner/chef let us know that in no uncertain terms, and how he wished we had warned him at 8 or 9 in the morning. We told him we were fine waiting and letting the meals come out plate by plate. Fortunately for ease of ordering, there was only one thing on the menu.

The first plane did show up about then, and some of the girls stayed at the restaurant to calm the nerves of the frantically grilling businessman while the rest of us moved our luggage, equipment and bodies to the airstrip (which is basically a long, semi-flat line or dirt rather than grass just ten or twenty steps off the road).

We sat around on the runway for what seemed like a long time, getting on boots and bug spray and sunscreen but suddenly we were moving and with Nicole up front, Sarah next to me and Teddy and Chet in the back, we were all in the plane and taking off. For the third time in about three weeks I can say that was the smallest plane I’ve ever ridden in.

A discussion yesterday had involved the new people group that was just discovered, a tribe in the Brazillian jungle that had never had contact with the outside world. Chet said that they estimate around 100 tribes have still never been contacted by other human beings. How unfathomable I thought that was in 2008 with airplanes and satellites and mass-communication having been around for so long. But as we flew over endless trees, I thought how perfectly sensible that there are still so many undiscovered people. Just this little patch of the world that takes 10 minutes to fly over is unbelievable. Trees as far as you can see. I just marveled at God and His Creation. How I can’t even comprehend it, and what a small part and yet what a special part I get to play in His plan, particularly this week. Who else gets to see this?

I thought that the coming and going of planes would be pretty normal for the Huaorani, so even though I was told that they would all run out and greet the plane, I was a little bit surprised that they did. I would learn as the other planes came in that the adults were there because they knew how important it was to help get a plane unloaded and back in the air as fast as possible. The kids were there to see the Gringos. It’s always hard for me to talk to people the first time I go to a new place in Ecuador. Even saying “hola” seems strange when I know that I won’t be able to strike up a conversation with them in Spanish, much less in Wao. But we waded through the kids and the mud (SO glad I had my boots on- was not expecting it to be muddy to the point of being stuck in it every four steps) and unloaded everything.

As the other planes came in Chet took us through the town up to “the river,” which is actually a part of a stream that’s been directed under the stilts of a house and up four feet through pipes to come down with a little bit of pressure in enough of a waterfall to have a small shower under and continue flowing in a stream back to the real river after passing through the town. We filled up the two buckets that had made it in on flight 1 and took them back to the guys’ porch to filter.

I somehow expected the water to seem more clean when we got through. The $1000 water filter is pretty tough (and not a joke to work. I’ll be buff after a week of pumping water through this thing) but the river water still has just a hint of yellow to it and a few floaters. After looking at the water that Lane was pumping for a while, I finally decided that it didn’t look to far removed from our drinking water at home. I’m sure this is cleaner than the Pasquotank. Qualms removed.

Setting up house was pretty simple too. The classrooms that we’ll be staying in (at least until the children arrive tomorrow night or maybe Thursday morning) are single-room wooden buildings with a porch. Instead of windows or solid walls on the front and back, the wood comes up to maybe chest level and then there is basically chain-link fence from there up to above a foot below the ceiling. Air flows through and it’s basically like being under cover rather than being inside. But in jungle weather that’s exactly what is needed, and I was able to recognize that instantly whereas last year I’m sure I would have been very skeptical about this situation. And it was great to run the line for the mosquito nets. We tied up to the fence on the front, ran the line across the room and tied it off on the other fence, and viola: mosquito nets could now be tied in place along the line.

By the time everyone was fully in and unpacked and set up and a few more buckets of water had been gotten and pumped, through the filter, there was just enough time for the girls, then the guys to troop up to the “shower” where we’d gotten water earlier. I’m going to be really tired of being cold and washing my hair with soap. After that it was dark and way past time for dinner. We trooped across the muddy field to what was designated the kitchen. It’s a building very similar to where we are staying except that it has a fire-pit style cooking area outside and is not on stilts. It has a totally uneven dirt floor and the benches along the two tables that span the length of the building have dug holes into the floor so they sit at angles between those and the bumps. It’s very hard to keep 15 people on one bench without it falling around. The trick seems to be leaning it up forward against the tables, which are slightly more stable.

We ate in just about total darkness with a few candles. We had bowls of rice and lentils with chicken in some sort of sauce, along with a sort of tea or juice that tasted like lemon drops (Chet says it was more than likely a grass that they boil rather than actual lemons). Surprisingly good and definitely filling.

After that it was debrief. Matt and Angela were the pareja of the day and led debrief under the covered area in the middle of the town in the dark. We talked mostly about changing plans and not knowing if we would even make it in, God’s faithfulness throughout our travels, and what we want the next week to hold, despite still not knowing exactly what we’ll be doing. Angela make a wonderful word-picture for us about the basket we saw in the Nate Saint house yesterday and how she’d been praying to just be that basket for the Huaorani, that link between God and the people we are here to serve. It made me think of a Caedmon’s Call song about missions. One of the lines says “We put the walls up, but Jesus keeps them standing. He doesn’t need us, but he lets us put our hands in.”

I know I’m not the most important part of our team, and certainly not a necessity to God in getting his plans accomplished this week in Toñamparé and the hearts of the Huaorani kids that will be here for the camp. But I pray that I can be useful.

EDIT: We finished debrief and Sarah and I, who will be the pareja in charge for tomorrow got to talk about jobs for each of us. Chet told us that six need to be in the kitchen, four need to be on sports, and the rest can be floaters, with a translator in each group and each one consisting of roughly even numbers of males and females. We designated Matt, Angela, Nicole and Bryan on sports, which left Sarah, Teddy, Danielle, Lane, Necia and myself on kitchen, leaving Chet, Dana, Fabian and Jerry as floaters. I’m writing this at a later time because of how much that changed over just a few hours the next morning and how initially disappointed I was because I felt that kitchen is just a “filler” role and I wouldn’t get to do any useful work for the Kingdom. How wrong I would be.

Falling into Place

One of the most amazing things about my time in Ecuador last year and about our team in general was how God just made things fall into place. We used that phrase, “fall into place” about six million times each day.

Tonight, we packed up for our trip to the jungle and went to Matt and Marlo’s for dinner and to weigh all our stuff (and selves). We ended the evening with prayer requests and a group prayer session about the upcoming week. We prayed about bats and bugs and other fears. We prayed that we will be able to “choose joy” (those are El Refugio words that just hit me this exact second as a way to sum that up) each day when we wake up and that it would be a contagious sign of God’s love. We prayed that our nerves would be calmed, and that we would be able to bring needed gifts and talents, even if we have no idea what we are doing. And by the way, for a group of people who came here with intentionally to be leaders, we feel like we have no idea what we are doing.

So when I came back to the DeVries homestead this evening (it’s turning back into their home as opposed to ours as we pack everything up) I found several e-mails in response to a letter I sent out this afternoon. (I love communication!) Julie sent me the scripture from tomorrow’s devotional, Galatians 3:26-39: Jesus said,”Now I give you a new commandment: love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. If you have love for one another, then everyone will know that you are my disciples.”

It’s written as a command, but I find it a scripture of reassurance as I look at what we are headed into and next to our prayers this evening. It just makes me realize what’s important. We feel like we need to know what we are doing and do our jobs and facilitate a camp. And we’re really focused. Out of the 12 interns/Maestros, all 12 were J’s and 11 were E’s on our Myers-Briggs test. But we’re here as missionaries, here to grow in our understanding of God and in our relationships with his people, and to share His love.

And guess what. The prayer from the Upper Room? Dear God, help us to see the world through your eyes. May we be receptive to your leading for our direction. In Jesus’ name. Amen. Can a devotion fall more “into place”? I need to be receptive to His reminder that our goal is to LOVE and to SHOW IT, and I’ll be seeing a whole new world all week long.

We, as interns, have been reading a couple books this summer. One of them is Credo by Ray Pritchard. He writes about the way that God makes himself painfully obvious, to the point that we must be aware of Him, as Romans 1:20 says, we are “without excuse.” I would be without excuse if I did not recognize that one, and I pray that I will be able to keep that in mind through plane rides and bug bites and 150 children. As we said in Cape Charles, that scripture is my “Yay God.”

EDIT: Literally the same second I published this, I got another e-mail from Heather. I quote (without permission) “Don’t hold back… Share the Well my friend!” For those of you who have any clue what I’m talking about… V8!

Jungle Details

This is a reposting of an e-mail I sent this afternoon. It’s written in the form of an e-mail and I did not bother to change it because despite the timestamp on this post, it is 11:59 and I feel like I have the right to be lazy. I just wanted to make sure everyone knew the details of our upcoming week and that you won’t be hearing from us until NEXT Monday.
Hi, everybody. I just wanted to let y’all know that we’ll be incommunicado for about a week. Most of you know this, but instead of hosting the two teams that will be here for Block 1, all 10 Quito Quest interns are going to the jungle to facilitate a Huaorani children’s camp/VBS for about 150 children from all over the jungle. They’ll be staying there and coming by foot, by plane, or by canoe. Our group will take a public bus from Quito to Shell and then fly from Shell to the strip in the jungle. We’ll be there from Tuesday afternoon until we fly back out next Monday morning. We’ll be bathing in and filtering our own water from the river, eating lots of Yucca and rice, wearing rubber boots and soccer socks all the time, have no cell phones, laptops, ipods, showers, or Taco Bell, watching out for anacondas, and having a fantastic time. And I’m not just saying any of that (including anacondas) to terrify my family and Barbara. I’m dead serious about every bit. And I’m STOKED.

Just pray for us in general as we travel and as we live in the jungle and work and play with and teach the kids. Also, specifically pray for:
–Sarah because she’s been a little under the weather. She got sick about the time the other interns recovered.
-Also, Lane injured his ankle playing basketball today after church, and he seems to be doing alright but definitely needs a complete recovery before we leave.
–Sarah and I, in charge of VBS and songs (wow, hoping to delegate a little bit)
–Matt and Angela, in charge of testimonies and programs for the week
–Sarah and Angela, our appointed translators (for the kids- most adults only speak Wao and will need two translators)
–Each of the five parejas who will be leading the group one day of the week for all our planning and our debrief that day
-Chet as he leads us all
–Lauren, Jenny and Tory who will be at Carmen Bajo without Pastor Fabian
–Dario, Sara and Adam DeVries, Christy, and the other full-timers who will be hosting teams in our absence starting tonight
–Jenny, Tory and Emily, the site hosts, as they begin really working at Carmen Bajo and Emaus respectively

The whole list of who’s going is as follows:

Dana Artinger, Maestra
Teddy Christenberry, intern
Bryan Cole, Maestro
Jerry Drew, intern
Fabian Erazo, pastor, Carmen Bajo
Necia Erickson, intern
Nicole Harrison, intern
Lane Hoffbeck, intern
Angela Markey, intern and translator
Sarah Miller, intern and translator
Danny Peck, intern
Danielle Silagi, intern
Matt Smith, intern
Chet Williams, YW adventure staff

I’ll probably update the blog once, maybe twice before we take off at 10:00am for the bus station, and after that, no news is good news until Monday, as our only contact will be via satellite phone if there’s an absolute emergency. I’ll also try to have some things written and ready to post when we come back, though I imagine a lot of sleep will happen between Monday and Thursday afternoons from when we get back to Quito and when our first teams arrive. Necia is bringing her camera so there should be some pictures at least. Some will go on the blog directly, and the majority are in the photos section (click the link at the top of my site). And if you want me to read any responses, you’d better get back to me before 8:00 tomorrow (Monday). If you want me to respond (more than two words), 10:00 tonight (Sunday) would be a good goal.

Love in Christ

A Bushel of Pecks

This weekend we’ve been in Atlanta. I missed the last two family trips, so I was pretty stoked to get to go this time. And for Grandpa Bill’s 90th birthday at that. I’ve been pretty sick and just wiped out (and I haven’t eaten hardly anything) but it’s been an excellent time anyway.

I think my Grandpa was especially pleased because all 4 of his sons were home. So between them and their families and Grandpa and my two Great Aunts and my dad’s cousin, we had a pile of Pecks (and Joyces and Brocks) at dinner tonight. Pretty awesome to see everyone and to give Grandpa Bill all the attention that he would probably normally just as soon hide out from.

It’s always fun to see your family. The people who you know and who know you and remember all the embarrassing stuff you did when you were little, but also who you can drive around with for five hours unsuccessfully1 looking for an Atlanta Braves store and still have a fantastic time with.

1I think Miley Cyrus was in town. We couldn’t get to the one Braves store we actually located at the CNN center. Darn you, throngs of twelve-year-old girls.

Quito Quest

So I found out today that Jerry and I have been accepted as interns with Youth World this summer! I’m so excited because I finally know for sure that I’ll be there, and I’ll have a buddy.

For those of you who don’t know, Youth World is an organization in Qutio, Ecuador which exists to identify, teach and equip leaders to impact young people and families to be disciples of Jesus Christ. I was in Quito last summer with the mission team from Christ Episcopal Church and I had such a wonderful/eye-opening/transforming experience that I knew I had to come back. So this year I’ll be leading teams all summer as an intern, and, as they call it, “trying ministry on.”

Pray for me and for Jerry as we go about the fundraising and other start-up procedures. And this will be my main place to update anyone and everyone on what’s going on with that.

PRAISE GOD.

"Do you have any liquids?"

Quito-

We’ve just said our good-night prayer here at the hostel in Quito. It’s been an amazing day already even after sitting on planes for most of it and not really doing anything productive.

We started the day early at Hunter’s house and already had a story by the time we got to the Norfolk air port. Poor David and Holly Wright had to listen to Hunter’s travel alarm going off in her luggage in their back seat all the way there.

We got through our check-in pretty smoothly. I didn’t really want to let go of my guitar, but otherwise it was fine. We had pretty much two hours to kill before the plan was supposed to leave at 10:45- which turned into noon. So the whole group had plenty of time to eat breakfast/coffee at Starbucks, check out the airport shops, and relax.

So then we all start heading through security. We had to take off our shoes and I set off the metal detector with my belt. Katie was behind me and as I was finally getting my stuff, the security officer comes up to her and asks “Is this your bag?” to which she timidly replied “Yes…?” And the guy just grins and says “Come with me,” in a tone that seemed to say “This will take a while,” as he began to sing to himself. I just laughed and went to tell Sophia her mom was in trouble.

Edla, Carrie, Hunter and some others started trickling through the line, each giving us an update on the situation (and the contraband in Katie’s bag). Bug spray was a liquid and not allowed. 1 bottle of Pepto-Bismol, larger (by a significant amount) than the 3 oz. limit also would not pass. Neither would the second bottle. Then out came the brownies and in inquiry as to whether or not they were “funny.” This resulted in an offer for a trade: bag of brownies to the security officers for 1 bottle of Pepto allowed through. Response: adamantly “no,” (probably a good thing in hind-sight as a liquid-bomb-building terrorist would have chosen the Pepto and aroused suspicion). Brownies returned. It was then reported that Katie wanted to chug the Pepto down to the three ounce limit. Ultimately not entirely true, but hilarious enough that we pretend it was.

Finally she made it. Lots more hanging around and then at last we boarded the tiniest passenger plane I have ever traveled in. You could feel every bit of speed, turbulence, take-off, and landing. I watched out the window and slept for most of it, except for a roller-coaster-like descent which left my mouth open and my eyes firmly shut, Edla’s hands clasped on her cross, and Julie’s arms clasped around Edla.

Arrival in Atlanta was pretty chill. Kinda like being home for me. Interesting after reading Genesis for Old Testament class and God commanding people to return to the land of their birth. Spiritual connection on the trip already.

Lots more hanging around and a gazillion-mile hike. Yes, seriously. A gazillion. We had lunch at a food court in Concourse E and felt like we were in the middle of an Army camp. We took the opportunity to teach Sophia about military uniforms, resulting in a half-hour debate about whether the flag really would be backwards if you carried it on a pole and ran forward (yes, if it was held to your left).

Much less security the second time around and first real passport check. We were mostly together on the play. I got a window seat again with Edla, then Julie next to me and Sophia, Betty and Bradham behind. When we took off (after being 11th in line on the runway) I actually saw the air go over the wings like the show you in 6th grade science class.

In-flight movie: Premonition. Good message, weird ending. I do find it obnoxious how movies can talk about religion and faith and even the priest won’t actually say “God.”

I happened to look out the window while we were over the ocean. All you could see was this floor of clouds stretching to the horizons in all directions and several hundred feet beneath us. I just wanted to get out and walk on them. I know it was a really simple thing. In fact stuff like clouds doesn’t usually get to me. But I think the fact that they were so perfect and everywhere, I was on top of them made me realize that it wasn’t something you see or experience every day. I hope and pray our whole trip will be like that: a new experience that I can’t have every day, and something that will make me think.

So after that most of the flight was pretty chill. My contemplative mood lasted through several stupid television shows, a surprisingly good chicken dinner, and finally flying smack into the middle of Quito.

The airport is seriously crammed into this miles-long metropolis with buildings all around it. It’s in about the only really flat place in the city: the dead center. You just feel like your are scraping the top of every building as you descend. And the whole city was lit up and we could see it miles and miles away.

As we started landing, the first sign I saw on a building say Xerox. Also not something I expected. Maybe it just shows globalization or Americanization, but aside from being cynical it felt like I was at least a little connected to home because of a big bright red English sign.

Disembarking took no time at all and before I knew it I had a stamp on my passport, a guitar and a bag in my hands, as was walking toward a jumping, waving South American man with three super-excited women.

As I guessed, it was Dario, the multi-lingual Youth World host who everyone met and loved last year. I could tell why immediately. He was so energetic and knew who I was the second Julie said my name (“Oh, you’re the musician!”) Pretty soon I met Cameron and Roberto and had Ecuadorian people kissing my cheek and somehow we eventually ended up on a bus and at the hostel. Quick briefing and some snacks and it was time for journaling and bed. Don’t feel extremely productive, but definitely excited, spirit-filled, and completely exhausted.