At this time of year, night seems to descend on the island differently than elsewhere.  Like a worn quilt, the sky first has only thin places, worn spots that appear to have been rubbed against by giant ankles or elbows, places where the sun shines—barely.  As if suspended, the quilt hangs heavier and heavier, weighted by the stars that begin to pull id down, down, slowly until there is more darkness than light.  Sometimes, dear Lord, I reach for you and find a hole where the fingers of faith quickly connect.  At other times, I reach into something thick and furry, unable to find you, to touch you.  When that happens, I depend upon others to connect me, others to raise my name in prayer, others who lift me and my situation.  Perhaps I break through to you because of old, memorized bible verses or hymns that appear in my mind, illuminating the darkness.  Thank you, Heavenly Father, for the beauty of night but more importantly, thank you for the beauty of your light-filled presence no matter how deep the dark. Amen.

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