One of the most enjoyable aspects of our current home is the front porch. It is where I spend as much time as reasonable, weather permitting. It is my thin place.
Thin places are places of energy. A place where the veil between this world and the eternal world is thin. A thin place is where one can walk in two worlds – the worlds are fused together, knitted loosely where the differences can be discerned or tightly where the two worlds become one.
It is a venue that encourages reading, reflection, relaxation and observation. Opportunities for interaction and engagement with neighbors and others abound.
Coincidental to our location, numerous people walk down our street just a few feet from the porch. Over the years, it has become my habit to greet everyone or at least attempt to do so. Those encounters have produced varying degrees of relationship, ranging from casual greetings to extended conversations and some friendships. The demographic of those who pass by … age, gender, race, ethnicity, socio-economic and religion is amazingly varied.
Additionally, our porch provides a wide view of our neighborhood. The coming and going, the routines and rhythms, traumas and joys are readily visible and, I might add, audible. As a result, I have a familiarity with my neighborhood that would not otherwise be possible.
Beyond pedestrian traffic and neighborhood activity, there is also vehicular traffic. In recent years street patterns changed resulting in a significant increase in traffic. The demographic of vehicles is as broad as the people who walk by. Cars, trucks, vans, bicycles, strollers, skateboards, segways and handicap scooters. As with the neighborhood, observation of the vehicle traffic provides insight into the realities of people’s lives. (I would say that my ability/desire to develop relationships with people who drive by has been impeded by their propensity to ignore speed limits.) 🙂 The varied conditions of vehicles and their owners dramatically illustrates the existence of the increasing income gap in today’s society. From the vantage point of my porch I am able to see a microcosm of society in our community.
Over the years, I have come to realize how important the front porch is to my spiritual health. I suspect, in the absence of the thin place of my front porch, my spiritual transformation would be significantly different, and not for the better.
A front porch is not the answer, but it is a perpetual reminder of the reality of the world in which I live and the pressing need for hope and redemption. Front porches provide questions. Questions so profound and perplexing, that I am humbled and forced to abandon self-sufficiency for submission.
