The Blank Screen

typewriterThe blank screen stares at me. The cursor blinking, waiting for inspiration to flood its canvas.

I sigh. Nothing.

My brain whirls and rattles until cobwebs begin to fall out of my ear. There is nothing in here.

Winter is setting its claws into the landscape outside my window and I think it may of frozen my imagination in the process.

At any moment now, the cursor will leap out of the screen and start tapping at my skull while shouting; “Hello? Anyone home? You have been staring at me for hours, days…weeks! Just write something!!!”

I sigh. Nothing.

It’s too much little cursor!” I exclaim to the strange beating line that’s floating above my head. “There is too much pressure, with your flashy pulsing line that waits for my every word and your snazzy blank canvas that demands my attention. I have a life you know? I don’t need you.”

The cursor blinks and starts to slide back onto the screen. “Fine” it said. “I will close the document”.

I panic. “Wait!”

I can think of something, right? It can’t be hard. I’m an interesting person! Sort of. I just feel like I’m in a desert with a straw stuck in the sand, trying to suck up water. I will get there eventually, right?

There has to be water around here somewhere! And I’m not alone. Loads of people feel like this. Only the other day I was having a conversation with a friend about blogging and not having anything to say. It doesn’t mean I am a failure, right?

There are just so many voices out there at the moment.

Lots of voices screaming out. Would mine help or hinder? I want to say things, but I don’t want the backlash. I want to encourage and not put down. I want to speak truth and show that Jesus is truly wonderful.

There is so much to say! But only tumbleweed is rolling around inside of me.

“Do you see little cursor… It’s so complicated!” …
Little cursor?“… I tap on the screen “Hello?


Oh. He has gone. mm.

The sun begins to glisten over the frosty patches on our lawn. Little specs glow, lighting up the green blades of grass like christmas tree lights. The belly of the birds are warmed by the suns rays and they start to sing. They are well cared for.

It makes me smile. Out of all the angst and thoughts that whirl in my head but refuse to get onto the screen, at least I am well cared for.

I sigh. There is something.

But sometimes it just takes a while to remember what that something is.


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