FARMHOUSE PORCH TALKS

The late 1950's had it's moments of magic. My world as an grade-schooler living a farm-kid life in Iowa was about the size of a postage stamp when placed alongside my present life as a coast-to-coast traveler. I am not sure if the magic superceded the melancholy or not in those distant days. Life was hard - filled with labor-intensive chores, and few extras to bring on a sky-high moment. Ours was a household of verbal barage - more than I care to remember. Conversations today with 'old-timers' will often elicit a dream-like comment such as, "Those were the good ol' days!" In many ways they were. Media influence was far less prevalent; family dinners around the table a staple of everyday life back then. If, however, abuse and degrading words were the hidden secrets of families, the days of old were far from good. Intermingled with those realities of my youth are also enough funny moments and average evening-togetherness to suffice for a smile now and then when remembering those youthful days.

The 8 ft wide wooden porch steps were splintered and weathered, mostly like the rest of the big square white country house I called home. No fine chairs sat on this porch. There were a few small floor-board holes a kid could peer through to scout out the cat that was hiding there, or a mouse or two. Plenty of make-believe happened on this porch through the years. Occasional props included a wobbly doll buggy, or a tea party setup on a big cardboard box hauled up from the dank musty basement. A few important conversations about the important things of life took place on these steps - like, 'Do you think Suzy hates me?' or... 'Will I get picked first or last when we play "Red Rover, Red Rover, why don't you come over" at school tomorrow?' This porch is where I'd often come to sit when life was boring. This is where my 'wondering' began, and where I first thought about the meaning of my life on earth and what happened after my heart would stop one day. Kids DO think about these things. And - big kids (adults) think about it too. I remember feeling scared quite a lot. The flavor of spirituality I grew up with dished out plenty of fear with a small pill of 'love' stuck in there somewhere. My cousin Don, who lived a stone's throw away on the other side of the road, was often my 'fellow wonderer' about these things. It's funny - the things one remembers from their youth. Even as I contemplate life in my 6th decade, I still remember the day Don and I sat on those front porch steps and asked each other, "Just what is the center of our being here in this world. What is beyond this world?" And, I now have some answers, but still, questions linger.

My God-focus, through christianity, Jesus and the Spirit have been nurtured through the years and my faith still moves - two steps forward, one step back. Books have been escapes for me, as well as stepping stones in my life and faith journey. As a preteen I escaped into the mystery world of Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden, as their stories transfixed me on those front porch steps for hours. This past week, a book at the local bookstore jumped out at me. I bought it - then devoured it. Proof of Heaven is a book written just a few years ago by a neurosurgeon about his near-death experience as the result of bacterial meningitis. I am by nature, an open-minded questioner. This read was a soul-fascinating cluster of chapters. Eben, the highly intelligent, brain scientist (author) finds his life transformed, his mission changed, after his week-long coma. Today's science-oriented doubters will be challenged in their God/Heaven beliefs after reading this book. Happy am I, to have been found by it! Confidence and comfort was mine as I closed the cover of this book.

Porches as a housing feature tend to be found in regional clusters. When I was rolling down the roads of the Carolinas on the East coast last month, I was intrigued by the number of houses that sported a very large veranda/front porch. When I contemplate the lifestyle and culture of these southerns, it is no surprise to me. Passing time on the front porch with the neighbors or family with big glass of lemonade seems to be a staple of everyday living down south. Now, as I travel the streets of Orange County, California, seldom do I see a front porch. Go figure - no surprise here. I confess that I have never watched the TV program, "Housewives of Orange County", but I'm told their lifestyle has little to do with passing time on a front porch! I personally would advocate for more porches in this world!

Speaking of rolling down the road - i was delighted to answer my 'cell' this past week when a South Carolina # showed on my ID. My insurance adjuster had good news for me. My RV is going to be repaired! Resurrection time! I've got a smile plastered on my face! Come January I should be reunited with 'Pedro' and on the road again in this pilgrimage journey of mine. How appropriate that this is the season of Advent - a time of waiting. I have been waiting to hear the good news for 5 weeks now. My 'Pedro' is being (re)born! Hallelujah!

I suspect that my Minnesota friends will not be sitting on their front porches for a chit-chat in the next few months. News of a midwest snowstorm has blinked on my computer screen. My hope is that a rocking chair or two will be drawn up by a big cracklin' fireplace in the coming weeks of family Christmas celebrations. I bid you - share your deep thoughts - share your joy - share your hopes for a spirit of peace in this world of ours.

From my rocking chair to yours -comfort and peace to you!

Intothewind,

Naturegirl