Yesterday, I caught myself doing that thing again—staring at my phone, scrolling through nothing. I had opened it to answer a message, and before I knew it, forty-two minutes had vanished in the TikTok–Instagram–Email vortex of distraction. The pasta water was boiling over on the stove. My dog sat patiently by her bowl staring at me. A text from a friend sat unread. And I had that familiar sinking feeling again—that little ache behind the ribs—the feeling of time slipping awa

Some days, art flows like sunlight—easy, warm, and full of life. Other days, it’s like trying to paint with rainwater. You sit there, brush in hand, staring at the blank page or screen, and wonder where that spark went. I’ve been there more times than I can count. But what I’ve learned is this: creative block isn’t the end of your art. Sometimes, it’s the space God gives you to breathe, listen, and refill your cup.