light in the dark

I live on a wonder of a place. An old poet and boatbuilder here once said to me that Edisto Island is a hard place to live. How could he say this, I wondered? In my life I have been blessed with love, and like Picasso, I understand the new vitality and life a new love brings to one's heart and one's art. This time I am madly in love with an island, with place. For its breathtaking beauty, for its wildness, and its surprises. This place holds the history of my ancestors, and of the Indians who lived nearby in round huts hung with pearls. You can feel this here still. The virginal forests still whisper her history in the quiet. On nights with a full moon, the dirt road is lit with white light, quiet light. But I understand the poet's words tonight in the dark. Fire ants and mosquitoes, and these flying biting things that live in jungles also live here, and they are not all insects. Life is just this whole package and some of it is dark. God, give us all the grace to prevail. God be with my young minister on the island this night, who has been overtaken in the jungle. Amen.