After my junior year of college I was required to spend at least four weeks on a foreign field in order to earn my degree in Missions. I had taken two semesters of Spanish and so I felt I was completely prepared to go to South America. Ha! I was 19 when I hugged my sister at the airport and took off for my adventure (I had my 20th birthday in Peru).
I’m not sure I had any idea what I was getting myself into. I found a family through a mission board that lived in the village of Urubamba, Peru. They were looking for someone to help them home school their four children and I thought this was a great way to see what a missionary’s life was like for a woman.
By the time I got to Dallas I was starting to get butterflies. I had never been to that airport before and it was monstrous. I called my fiance at the airport and started crying on the phone. I’m not generally an emotional person and at the time I blamed it on our separation, but I think my subconscious was aware that I was about to launch myself out into the great unknown.
The flight to Lima was about six hours long. Once I got there I almost panicked. I had to catch a flight to Cusco early in the morning and so I had no choice but to stay the night at the airport. I had heard horror stories of tourists being kidnapped or robbed and murdered. I was even told not to wear my engagement ring or someone might cut my finger off to get it. My fiance bought me a fake ring to wear while I was there but I wisened up and realized, “Would I want to have my finger cut off for a fake ring?”
The only unsanitary bathroom in the airport was on another level of the airport. There was no such thing as an elevator and I would have to take all of my luggage (I seriously over-packed) with me if I was to use it. Pure adrenaline kept me awake all night. Well, adrenaline and the guard armed with a machine gun that kindly stayed nearby me that night.
The next morning as I boarded my flight I tried to make myself relax. I knew that I had to get some sleep, but I was on a Peruvian airplane flying very close to some rugged-looking mountains. There was constant turbulence and I later learned that planes didn’t even dare fly to Cusco in the afternoon because the unpredictable winds could down a plane! To my dismay, the flight attendants no longer spoke the polite English as they did on my Lima flight. It was Spanish or get skipped by the beverage cart.
When I was getting off the plane panic seized me. I was supposed to be met by a man who would be carrying a sign with my name on it. I had no idea what he would look like or if he would speak English. When I deplaned and walked toward the outside of the airport I had several men asking me if I wanted a ride anywhere. What if someone murdered the person who was supposed to be holding the sign for me and I was about to be kidnapped? OK, the fatigue was making me a little crazy. Thankfully, I did find the kind American man who had been sent to pick me up. It took over two hours by truck to reach the village of Urubamba because the truck kept breaking down. This, I am told is a very common issue that is dealt with on the mission field in third world countries.
By the time I got to the compound that housed the missionary family I was almost delirious. Mrs. Muth, the missionary’s wife, graciously said I could sleep for a few hours. However, it was not to be. When I laid down I couldn’t stop thinking about how far away I was from home and how my mom might have been right when she said I was crazy to go to such a remote place (this was the spring after September 11).
That afternoon I discovered a couple of red dots around my ankles. I soon learned their cause, “We have a really bad flea infestation,” Mrs. Muth informed me. There was nothing that could be done about it. They would flea bomb the entire compound and within weeks they would have them back because of all the animals that roamed the village. For the next month I experienced life with no hot water, not being able to flush toilet paper, and tucking my pajama pants into my socks at night to hopefully prevent flea bites.
There were countless other unsettling circumstances which I encountered that gave me a hard-knox introduction to missionary life. The missionaries were such a blessing as they faithfully ministered to the Peruvian and Quechuan people, but I was distracted by my ethnocentric ideals. One of the countless wonderful qualities of missionaries is there ability to put away what is “normal” and “right” to them and adapt themselves to the culture in which they serve. Their lives are not without sacrifice, but they are such humble servants that they do not view their lives as a sacrifice.
My experience in Peru taught me so many things about my own flawed sense of service and sacrifice. I was challenged to put away my own ideas of how things “should” be, and look beyond that to the common thread we all share as humans: A need to have a personal relationship with Jesus.
Please check out these articles:
Leading a Child to Christ in 4 Steps
Tithing: Does God Really Expect Me to Give Ten Percent?