To Touch the Rain

Desolation never comes from God.

— St. Ignatius of Loyola

If it did, we would just be puppets. And where would our free will be then?

St. Ignatius advised not to make any changes in the middle of a period of desolation. Well, I should follow that advice, but I am not. I’m scrapping large sections of my weblog. The sidebar is practically non-existent now. Gone is the list of recent entries, recent comments, links to other weblogs. I have also disabled comments. There is a new design in the works, but that seems to have stagnated for the moment.

I am irritated at the weblogs. [section deleted] …too many weblogs have become reactionary, or worse, a collection of links.

Take blogrolls and lists as an example. These are my new pet-peeve. They divide up those weblogs that belong, and those that do not. It is another sophisticated form of tribalism! My group is better than yours. And if you belong in mine, great, if not, good luck with that. So, I scrapped my list. I am not going to do that to someone who comes visiting this space and wonders, even in the slightest, why there is not a link to them.

I removed comments too. Not exactly sure why. I have been lucky. Many weblogs get a bunch of crabby people complaining about this or that. The few people that have left comments here have been positive, supportive, and uplifting. Thank you all. But when I post something and start waiting for comments, then I am writing for the wrong reason.

My apologies for the rant. I dislike reading them on other weblogs. I can’t believe I am going to post this one.

Everything belongs. But I don’t feel like I do.

I am frustrated and tired and lonely. Nothing seems to be connecting right now. Words feel jammed up in my head. Nothing flows. My prayers just sit there, lifeless, like malformed bricks on a table, too heavy, too empty to float up to heaven. My mouth is parched and the well seems dry. Nothing satisfies. Nothing fulfills me. This God-shaped hole in me aches to be filled. But there is nothing. Only silence and darkness and nothingness. I long to see the face of God. I am homesick. And the journey back seems too far.

I wish it was raining right now. I would run out in the rain, look up to the sky, and feel the drops splashing on my face, washing over me. I told a friend that God’s grace is always raining down around us. Our hearts need to be open to receive it. She wondered, “If by touching the rain, was I able to touch a piece of heaven or God.”

I wish I could feel the rain…

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