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By Donna Gibson with Michael Richardson - 2004.11.15
It’s pitch dark.
The rhythmic dip and swish of our paddles plays along to the jungle sounds of the Amazon.
My arms throb and tension builds between my shoulder blades, mercilessly working its way up my neck. The cramping joints of my fingers beg me to quit. But I grip the paddle tenaciously, grateful for old calluses.
A word from Jose Miguel and I stop, resting the paddle on my knees. We drift slowly as he shines his flashlight along the banks of the river.
My eyes follow the circle of light over tree branches, bushes and shadows, straining for a glimpse of grey hide, a glinting eye, a movement … something.
Nothing.
Darkness wraps around us again and our paddles return to the water.
We’ve been out here nearly four hours and still no sign of a capybara. The large rodent would be his family’s breakfast, lunch, dinner and then some.
Still, my heart only reflects Jose’s disappointment. I’m so glad to invest some time in our friendship, to experience with him the unique world he takes for granted. I don’t mind if we never catch anything. Four hours of fruitless hunting is four hours deeper into a relationship that one day may reap eternal results.
The light reaches out to the banks again only this time my eyes stay on Jose Miguel. He’s been a friend to my wife and me as we grope along in our understanding of the Shiriana culture and language. I ache for him to know my Jesus.
Please God. Someday…
I will my complaining muscles to move once more and my paddle finds its rhythm.
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Pray for a growing understanding of the culture and language as missionaries Michael and Jessica Richardson build relationships among the Shiriana people of Venezuela.
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