Shell!

So a couple of weeks ago (back in August) I was able to go to Shell, near the jungle. It was awesome because I got to see Nate Saint's house which was super cool for me. If you remember I was in At Any Cost and I got to represent him in the presentation. Also, I found out that my grandfather went to school with him years before he became a missionary to Ecuador. One of the best parts was at night when all the fireflies where out! It was so amazing. I wonder how God comes up with this stuff?

I've just been so convicted lately. But not quite sure what to do about it or how God wants me to change. I just feel extremely selfish. Kinda ironic, considering that I'm down here to serve. But it's true. I've spent most of the time thinking about how to be more comfortable or when it's not an option just thinking about when I was or will be again. I just don't know if I'm making the kind of connections I should be. Maybe I'm expecting too much out of myself. I needed to sleep early last night but couldn't because of all this. Which put me in a bad place for this morning. I get up to go to work. I've been taking taxis to the south to work at Remanso because taking the bus there is too confusing and kinda dangerous, if I miss it. But this taxista didn't know where I needed to go, I was under the impression that he knew the general area and I even told him what highway to use. No good. He kept asking me and I wasn't sure which way it was to get to that highway and then other people and making lots of U turns... I knew I was in trouble. By this time I missed my first class and was going to miss the second. I'm in tears. I really had no idea what to ask for. I was afraid to ask him to let me out, because I didn't know the area. So finally after the meter was past the point it would have been to get there and over an hour later he just tells me sorry and says I should find another taxi, I get out and don't pay him. And there I am on the street coner (God only knows where) in Quito crying my eyes out. Awesome. I call the teacher I'm supposed to help and tell her I'm lost and going home. She was going to have someone pick me up but I didn't know where I was and I think she thought I was closer to the school than I was (I was still about 40 mins away). I couldn't figure out how to say "I can't stop crying" in Spanish so I just said I can't come, I'm going home, instead. In the words of Eliza Doolittle "I cannn't, I' got an 'eadache."
So I was supposed to post this in September but never got around to it. Two days after this we had the police coup which shut down the airport and all bus transportations. It was crazy. I just stayed in doors for two days and didn't really go out any more than was needed. It was honestly a nice break from working but I was a little worried about my friends who were coming in the next week to visit me. But by the next day the president was un-kidnapped and the country was pretty much back to normal, and my buddies made it here and back safely (well Marlo at least as far as Houston). But the stangest thing about all of this for me is: why is coup spelled with a P? I mean come on... really? I don't care if it comes from French or whatever just help a sista out.