“I don’t think I’m going to make it to the village I may need to go back to UB to get our tickets changed due to this emergency.”

To which he faithfully responded, “You have no other option but to go to the village. This is what you’ve been waiting for, praying for.”

The how we were called there, and how we were called home is not the story for today, although it is one I do love to tell.

Today’s story is about the going back.

I’ll never forget the feeling in the lodge when everyone went home, and our director looked over at me to say, “Something big happened here,” with a follow up question of, “What are we going to do now?”

It’s Friday night, March 8th and I’m tucked away in my small boat cabin, shared with two other ministry partners who are hard at work in the sweltering heat of the Bolivia Amazon Tributaries.

There is one fan blowing down on me, and I am in deep gratitude for the air circulating around me

This fan will only last until 10pm when the boat generator shuts down and all goes silent and still. At that moment I’ll  let out a complaint in the form of a childish groan.

Nothing could have prepared me for