BLOCK

     I detest, I despise, I am frustrated with writer's block. I can always tell I have hit the very bottom of the barrel during writer's block when I begin to write about the BLOCK.
     I am not all that sure why I get frustrated with the BLOCK. I don't make my living with my pen, so I will eat tomorrow. I have no deadlines to meet, so I will sleep well tonight. There aren't any people whose lives will be changed by the few words I would possibly write, so my conscience is clear. Yet I am in the midst of the longest BLOCK I have ever been in and what comes to mind is: "Will I ever be able to string a sentence together ever again? A sentence that does not pertain to the BLOCK?"
     The most frustrating thing about this BLOCK is that a tremendous inspiration explodes in my brain but by the time I write the first word of whatever that inspiration it explodes again. This time like a pen that has gone through the dryer in my pocket. A mess, in other words.
     I have done all the tricks. Free associated on paper. Read a bunch of my previous writing. (Don't do this during a BLOCK because then even the old stuff looks really bad!) I have gone off to a quiet place. Sat in a familiar place. Kept a notebook at hand to write anything that may be the seed of something worth expanding on paper. Blocked. BLOCKED. BLOCKED!
     The interesting thing is that I do make my living with words. Every Sunday I have the privilege to stand in front of a great bunch of people and preach out of God's Word. No BLOCK, but then, again, I have some help of the spiritual sort.
     I am thankful for this, then: God is never BLOCKED. "I will never leave you nor forsake you." "Draw near to me and I will draw near to you." "If you seek me you shall find me." "Lo, I am with you always. Even unto the end of the age." And even unto the end of the BLOCK.