Beneath a Southern Sky - By Deborah Raney Page 0,6
remembering how she had struggled with what her role as a missionary should be when they first arrived. Nate could offer his gift of healing—he had known since childhood that he wanted to be a doctor. She, however, had left college after her sophomore year, still not having declared a major.
She had found the first hint of her gift in her job as a teacher’s aide when Nate was still in medical school. But what could she teach these Timoné children? She and Nate recognized something precious in the primitive simplicity of these people’s lives. The Timoné had no need for the technologies that cluttered life. Nate was adamant that he and Daria had not come to Americanize or civilize the Timoné. They had come to offer healing—for the body and for the soul.
Finally unearthing the connection between her gift and their need, Daria had organized an informal Bible class. She had first begun meeting with the children outside the hut she and Nate shared, but her little group had soon grown so large that the village leaders suggested that she move to the commons. In spite of the language barrier, the twenty or so who were allowed to come for an hour each morning had learned much, and she had finally begun to feel that her presence here had meaning.
Daria let go of Jirelle’s hand and went to greet the other children who were still straggling in from the crude pathways that wound through the village. Their high, nasal chattering filled the air.
“Hollio, Tommi. Hello, Gilberto. Gabrielle, is this for me?” She took a rather wilted hibiscus blossom the size of a dinner plate from a chubby little girl. “Égracita, Gabrielle. It is beautiful. Mui béleu.”
She greeted each child by name as they took their places along three rows of narrow benches that faced the west. The children quieted and she went to stand at the front of the shelter and opened the colorfully illustrated children’s Bible. She walked up and down the rows, giving each child a chance to see the pictures of the brave and trusting young man named Daniel and the ferocious lions he faced.
“Who would like to play the lions?” she asked, pointing to the pictures in the book.
Ten grubby little-boy hands went into the air, and they all began auditioning for the role by baring their teeth and “claws” and yowling loudly. Their howling made them sound more like Colombian jaguars, and Daria earned their hysterical laughter when she demonstrated a deep roar. But they soon became fluent in “lionese” and went to stand in one corner of the shelter that she had designated to be the lions’ den. She chose Gilberto to play Daniel. He was a bit of a ham and easier to manage when he had a starring role.
The impromptu production went splendidly, and Daria was grateful to have her mind taken off of Nathan for a while. But as she bade the children farewell and walked back to their hut, her thoughts turned again to her husband.
“Please, Father. Be with him, wherever he is. Bring him back safely,” she whispered.
How long did Nate have to be missing before Bob Warrington would instigate a search? What if she couldn’t get through on the radio? What if she needed to leave and Anazu refused to help her? She blocked the roiling questions from her mind and prayed that by tomorrow her worries would be needless because Nate would be home safe in her arms.
“Daria, I just want you to know that I’m doing everything possible to get a search party organized—in case we need it. We’re not overly concerned yet. We knew it would take some time. But it has been a bit longer than we expected.” She knew he meant to reassure her, but even though his words were chopped up on the airwaves, Bob Warrington’s trepidation transmitted loud and clear.
Nate had been gone almost two weeks. It had been more than forty-eight hours since her last contact with Bogotá. Her panic had grown hourly as she stayed inside the hut, trying desperately to get through on the radio. She had wept with relief to hear the radio spring to life minutes ago.
“Bob, have you reported Nate missing yet? To our families, I mean?” She had to repeat the question twice over constant static before he got it.
“No, we haven’t. Frankly, I was hoping you’d have good news when I got through this morning. Do you want me to let your