These palm trees stand on a shore where slave traders once deposited human beings as cargo to be sold and shipped elsewhere. Despite the present-day tourist attractions elsewhere on the island, this stretch of coast felt spooky and unsettled. I sensed (or imagined) fear while sitting upon the sand. It felt like peace had not yet come to that place. I am glad it was bare. The palms seemed to be looking out—past the near by islands and far across the water— rather than in—toward the settled land. My picture did not echo the layers of history, it barely touched on the loneliness.
Apart from the steady surf, my noisy emotions and my sense of historical horror and continuing human tragedies, it was a quiet spot—too quiet—like a silence I once felt in a crowd of visitors to Masada. I turned toward the Lord with a question—“Lord?” And I heard silence.
Later I read this and it stretched my heart to trust,
You say, “But He has not answered.” He has, He is so near to you that His silence is the answer. His silence is big with terrific meaning that you cannot understand yet, but presently you will. Oswald Chambers
