There are emails that never arrive at their destination. It could be that the address was incorrect, or out of date. Some spam filters are overly zealous, and grab perfectly innocent messages and throw them down the stairs. On occasion I have neglected to click on send, and the missive lay orphaned as a draft, like a dead person in purgatory. It can muddy things to assume that a letter arrived when in fact it did not. 

 

God sends me messages. They are packaged in scripture, and the shaft of light streaming through my sewing room window, and the music floating from speakers in the living room. They are housed in the generosity of a neighbor who returned a forgotten umbrella, or sent a text to inform me that Benjamin was out walking alone. Yet God composing those assurances of His care does not always guarantee that I opened them. It is my prerogative to dismiss them, and give attention instead to the inconveniences that beg for space in my brain. Sometimes quite insistently. 

 

I have mailed cards to friends whom I wanted to greet at Christmas time that bounced. "Undeliverable" is the disconcerting cause. What is the fate of that envelope sized portion of good will? Surely the postal staff that rejected it was not the beneficiary. Neither did I get a surge of gladness when it appeared in my mailbox. Instead I was disappointed. There were times I felt determined enough to add more postage and plunk it in the blue box again. 

 

I wonder about the rejections that land on God's doorstep. When people are not interested in what He has to say, or disregard the subtle signs of providence that lace their routine, is He annoyed? 

 

It seems that the most effective way to receive His influence is to open it up. 

 

"The Lord cannot unite with us except in love and charity, because the Lord is love itself and mercy; he wants to save us all and draw us to heaven — that is, to himself — with a powerful force." Secrets of Heaven 1038