Brazil is much in my thoughts this week as the country celebrates 200 years of independence, won from Portugal on September 7, 1822. As some of you know, Betty and I met in Brazil, fell in love with the people there, and served for many years as missionaries in the Amazon. With a cup of Brazilian coffee in hand, I close my eyes and happily reminisce:

                                                                              <><

I dream of going back on the river where the monster fish play, where God stands his bolts of lightning on the water like trees of white-hot fire. I’ve seen them last for three full seconds – an eternity for lightning – blinding every sense, electrocuting the fish.

In my dream, the dolphins always meet us at that special place, where the boat turns south off the Amazon and into the inlet to the great lake. The channel narrows. The water clears. Fans of marsh grass and water lilies reach out from either bank. Herons, first by the dozen, then by the hundreds, rise up from the grass. They sail across our bow in snow-white flights of six or eight, bound for who knows where. Of all God’s fine and lovely inventions there is none like rain. But close behind it come the herons, rising into flight.

An hour or two inside the inlet sits a little river village named Alligator (Jacaré). Further on is a sister village called Little Alligator (Jacarezinho). They tell me – though I’ve never visited the place – that there is yet another village, named Castrated Alligator (Jacaré-Cangá). I’m sorely curious about that name and its origins. Can’t help but wonder if the procedure was done live. And if so, by whom?

Chugging along the inlet, the boat’s old Yamaha engine spits and poots, scaring up birds of every sort. Cuckoos and kingfishers. Honeycreepers and orioles. And other birds I’ve never seen before, whose names I’ve yet to learn.

Imagine what God could show you of His handiwork if you could put on a pair of rubber waders – the kind that trout fishermen use – and wade up into the marsh grass toward the shore. You would find it alive with every imaginable thing, from fish that spit to dragonflies with 10-inch wings.

The problem with this plan is that you would quickly wade into the realm of the alligators, who lie in the cool mud along the shore. To appreciate them like that, up close, with their beautiful blue armor and awesome jaws, would also give them the chance to appreciate you.

–Excerpt from Moonlight on the Amazon, ©2009 by Don Best]