Launch me to another part of the jungle; Alden, Keith, Sharon, Marissa letters :-)

mural

a huge mural done on a building where live a bunch of catholic nuns

took photos and ran

Mother,

This week I am tired. I don’t really know how else to say that in a better or worse way. Tired. Emotionally and mentally, I believe. I don’t understand how Richard and Alden did this for two years when I’ve barely scraped past the year mark. You know what I think it is? I don’t have any investigators that I love like I should. Usually I have those that I’m teaching that I love with a strange, soul deep, heart tearing love, and I just don’t have those right now. Right now I just have closed doors and I’m-busy-right-now investigators. And it’s tough living without people you love at your side. But I suppose that’s the way things go, now and again.

I thoroughly enjoyed an Alden letter, a Keith letter, a Sharon letter, and a Marissa letter, but I think they wrote me this week because I started asking God that more people write me. Blessings I have received this day.

I eat out every month or two. There’s a hamburger place in the center. Melody a year ago thought these hamburgers were quite disgusting. Melody with a year here is delighted by the rare chances that are had to eat this strange, mutated ‘hamburgers.’ There are actually ‘menus,’ as they are called here—fast food—all over the place. But. . . it’s not like over there. It’s like an actual mean that you sit down and eat in the patio of people’s houses. Rice, chicken, maybe some beans, cucumber slices. Small, but a meal. There’s usually some Corazon Serano blasting out of some speakers, and someone drinking somewhere, but this is as close as one gets to fast food. Based on my small stint in Lima and the word of other Peruanos, there is fast food for other parts—Pizza Hut, Taco Bell, things like that—but it’s not gotten to Iquitos yet.

Speaking of Iquitos, I have changes this coming Monday, and it’s almost certain—but not quite—that they’ll be booting me from Iquitos to another part. Pucallpa, Mayobamba, Trapoto. All possibilities. Or perhaps I stay here in Iquitos. I quite like it here, and I’d be okay if I got to stay. It’s become my city just as much as any other place I’ve lived. I know where the plazas are, the center is familiar, the people I see from other wards. I’ll be sad when they launch me to another part of the jungle.

Well. I’ll be seeing you all in another week.

Hna. Compton

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