My emotions led me here, my mistakes. They filled my loneliness for a time but then only created more empty space. Life is a drug itself. I continue on making decisions, buying things, making moves, thinking each will be the key – only to find the same result. A desire to do the same thing over and over again, continuing the cycle of frustration.

How do I break this chain? My faith teaches that it has already been broken, that in me lies to secret to contentment. I wish I could truly tap into that reality. I heard a missionary say that America and the rest of the first world are in the most danger of Hell because we are so distracted. We have it so good that we can’t even see what we truly need. Maybe that is the reality in which I’m living.

I then enter into a state of guilt- that I just don’t have enough thankfulness for the amazing life that I’ve been given. How could anyone in my position complain or even think of feeling sad about my life? It’s preposterous truly. Yet here I am, writing about my mistakes & loneliness.

I can’t help but think of Job. A man who had it all and thanked God for it. Yet he didn’t truly know God until it was all stripped away. This story scares me to death.

There is something about a front porch. There aren’t many here in the Midwest, but they are practically everywhere in the South where I grew up. This simple structure is, to me, a symbol of hospitality. Immediately when walking up to someone’s house, you’re sheltered before you even knock on the door. You are surrounded by hanging plants, chairs (preferably a swing), and a little table for iced tea. The front porch of my mind has a sawn baluster railing with white paint that has slightly faded over time. The roof over head is stained wood shiplap with an antique chandelier dangling from the center. There is a porch swing painted a bright turquoise and several rocking chairs surrounding it. There is a round, metal cafe table with a pitcher of iced tea with lemon, a few glasses, and a plate of brownies. The floorboards creak a little as you walk to and fro. It’s hot outside, but the ceiling fans whirring ahead and the slight breeze flowing through keep it comfortable.

Sitting on the front porch takes a good measure of vulnerability that back porches do not. You’re opening yourself up to whoever may be passing by. There is no privacy fence to block the view. The front porch invites a wave, a hello, maybe even a stop to chat and have a drink.

Do you have any front porch memories?