The sky is a deep Yellow and Grey. The clouds have been rolling in all afternoon. I can see Islands in the distance, two fishermen wade into the water, their boat hovering nearby. Earlier, we dipped into the sea, the water warm, fresh, still, clear. It begun to rain, big heavy drops. Dark clouds swooping over the mountains and suddenly the sky was grey. We sat and watched in awe. Dripping in our towels, drinking it all in. Cold showers, card games, clouds parting for the coming sunset. This island is so quiet. It almost feels deserted. We have very little money to spend here, which adds to the feeling of being washed up on the shore. It is peaceful paradise. Most days the sky is scattered with white fluffy clouds. Pale blue peeks behind, reflecting in the navy water of the ocean, it turns turquoise as it hits the sand at the shore. There is a gentle breeze, perfect shade made by the hanging trees. We drink coffee and eat fruit for breakfast. Watermelon, mangos ripe from the sun, sweet bananas and melon. We swam for hours yesterday, diving beneath the water for glimpses of shiny fish. We talked about hard things that day. I revealed to Ed some of the insecurities in my heart, he was honest to me about the way my own fears impact on our life together. I find it spectacularly hard to receive criticism or reveal my own faults. I floated on the surface of the sea for a long time. Later, the sun set behind the clouds for us in another spectacular way as we slurped steaming noodles from bowls. Reminding us that even through hard things, beauty prevails and bursts through.
When I think about that week on the Island, I think about the sky and the ocean, the sand and hearing the waves crash at night. I think about how tender my heart felt, how close to tears I was most of the time. How each moment seemed to bring up some pain or new found insecurity within me. Then I think of the joy of that time too. That hard conversations and realisations bring forth fruit. I think about the kindness of God, who gives us what we need when we need it. I think he knew that what I needed was the open expanse of sea, the dark clouds, the sky and the space, most of all the space. I thought about how one evening, we rode across the island road on our battered scooter. Night had fallen quicker than we anticipated. We heard thunder cracking in the distance and the sky begun to light up with flashes of bright, white light. I clung onto Ed as we drove through the storm. I clung to his back, hid my face, felt his steadiness. We laughed about how scared we felt driving that night, through the forest of thick tropical trees. We were scared about coming across monkeys and snakes and who knows what else. Scared our scooter would give up on us miles from home. After what felt like a long time, we saw the glimmer of light, our little hut, on the shore.
I think sometimes life feels like that. Like thunderstorms and chaos and heavy grey skies. Like there might be unknown pain lurking there in the dark. It feels as though it would all be just better in the cold light of day. We cling on though, we keep going, and there will be a glimmer of light at the end. We may just be able to look back, on this time, this season, that painful moment and feel a sliver of joy in knowing that the wildness can look beautiful too. We can see, when we look back that he knows what we need, when we need it and friend, seasons change, they come and go and somehow, space is made for us when we need it, through his grace. We see eventually, in good time, that stormy skies make way, for the most breathtaking sunsets.