cicadas

The Lost Art of Porch Sitting

/ Ragamuffingospelfan / Leave a comment

I think in my twilight years I want a house with a front porch. It doesn’t have to be a big house. It can even be one of those tiny houses as long as there is room enough in front for a rocking chair and/or a wicker swing.

I see houses all the time that have front porches of all sizes and types and shapes, from wraparounds to those that barely stretch past the entry. But I very rarely see anyone sitting on those front porches. Most people are too busy and have lost that art of being able to sit on their front porches.

I think it’s a lost art. It’s one thing to be physically present on a front porch but be mentally elsewhere, whether it be on social media via all the devices or with thoughts that are a thousand miles away. Sometimes, all you need is a front porch, a rocking chair, and a good book. Or even just the front porch and rocking chair on a beautiful sunny day.

We’re so addicted to our devices that 15 minutes without them can seem like 15 years. It’s easy to spend all that time wondering what you’re missing out on or what breaking news you haven’t heard about. But all that can wait for a few moments of hearing the hum of a creaky porch swing or the song of the cicadas.

People did that back in the day. They’d spend afternoons and evenings on the front porches, visiting neighbors and sharing sweet tea and their lives. They didn’t have devices. Further back in the day, they didn’t have television. Those front porches were their social media, their grapevine, their community all rolled up into one.

Back when I was little, I’d sometimes curl up on a porch swing and fall asleep to the creaky swaying rhythm and gentle breezes blowing. I’m sure that life can’t be THAT simple again, but I wonder if we don’t overcomplicate our lives with too much stuff and too many activities and not enough margin. We can choose to say no to things to have room for rest and reflection.

I want to get good at front porch sitting, not doing anything other than waving at neighbors and being in the moment and hearing the small still voice of God.

Is Winter Over Yet?

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Some of you know that I am not a fan of winter. I like the part in December where we get Christmas and New Year’s Eve. I even like the first few weeks into January and February, but after that I’m over being cold and having to scrape my car’s windshield in the morning.

I’m the same way with summer. I like summer through the 4th of July and a few weeks past that, but at a point I start longing for fall. Fall is still my absolute favorite, with spring falling behind into second place.

One annoying aspect of Winter is how it pretends to go away, but doesn’t really. Already, there have been a couple of sneak previews of spring, but then in a day or two it gets rainy and cold again. Typically when I take the lining out of my rain jacket, I can predict that the temperatures will plummet again.

I know the groundhog didn’t see his shadow, so theoretically that means spring comes early. But winter isn’t ready to let go. Winter really wants to have the last word. But I think we’d all agree at this point that the song from Frozen applies — winter just needs to “let it go.”

The reason spring isn’t my favorite season is that along with warmer weather come all forms of pollen, mold, and dust that don’t like my sinuses. Or my sinuses don’t like them. I think the feeling is mutual.

Also, all those bugs that have been napping all winter wake up and want to get all up in your business right away. Plus, this year two different kinds of cicadas will be invading the land. I get that insects are an important part of the circle of life, but I wish they could be important somewhere away from me rather than constantly flying in my face all the time.

But every season serves a purpose, as it says in Ecclesiastes. Winter, spring, summer, and fall all have a part in God’s creation. I may not like them all equally, but I can appreciate each one and find the good in each season. Then I can really celebrate fall and bust out all my flannel all over again . . . in about seven months or so.

A Good Weekend

/ Ragamuffingospelfan / Leave a comment

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As I stepped into my car to head home from a Sunday School class party, I could hear the hypnotic drone of cicadas and felt 10-years old again and ready for the next big adventure. That’s what life really is. At least for those who have their eyes open to appreciate the mystery and wonder in each gift God unwraps daily called life.

I still fondly remember running through the streets of downtown Nashville with my friend Katie to catch the next act at Live on the Green, Michael Franti. It was a moment I never imagined happening, yet if you were to ask what my all-time favorite moment was, this one would be climbing the charts. And no Gatorade ever tasted better than the ones from the Exxon convenience store on the way home.

How can I forget an impromptu Starbucks session of great conversation and good coffee drinks? I can’t remember two hours flying by that fast. It was yet another in a long line of unexpected treasures and blessings God has showered on me lately.

I remember Friday and Saturday in downtown Franklin, seeing some of my favorite McCreary’s people and savoring yet another beautiful summer night visiting my usual haunts and trekking my familiar path up and down Main Street. I especially recall how quiet it was in St. Paul’s Episcopal Church as I sat silent and still and expectant, waiting on a Word from God.

I finally fell asleep at 4:30 this morning after another night of tossing and turning. I think I’ll sleep better tonight. At least I hope I do. But even that time awake gave me time to reflect on all the little gifts that eucharisteo had opened my eyes to see.

I remember something my Sunday School teacher Derek Webster said. He said, “God believes in you even more than you do.”

I have to write that down somewhere. Oh yeah, I guess I just did. But I need it in a place where I can find it and see it every morning, because I know some mornings I’ll wake up and not be as excited to be alive. Those old self-doubts will creep in. The enemy will whisper, “See? Nobody really cares about you. No one would notice if you weren’t around. You don’t make one bit of difference to anybody.”

That’s when this Truth of God comes in. God says differently. To me. To you. To anyone who heard and followed the voice of Jesus. God said you do matter because I made you. Jesus said you matter because I thought you were to die for. You have a gift and a purpose that no one else ever in the history of mankind has ever had. Only you can play the part God wrote for you in the Great Romance He’s written out in history.

You being you makes God smile. You being who God created you is what the world around you needs to see more than any Billy Graham or Mother Teresa. You coming alive to your gifts and talents will be the ripple in the ocean whose effects will last far beyond your own lifetime.

Yep. All that from four days in August.