I don’t have a wide, wood planked front porch. I don’t have rocking chairs or hanging ferns or a porch swing. My porch is not cottage-y or farmhouse-y.
My porch is stucco-y.
And there are times that I really wish I had a bigger porch. Maybe a wrap-around one with ceiling fans and the perfect seating arrangement for sipping iced tea while watching the neighborhood happenings.
And while my porch doesn’t have any of those things, I’ll tell you what it does have.
It has a two-story high arch, creating a kind of enclosure. My kids have often referred to it as the tunnel.
And do you want to know something? That enclosed, tunnel-like space is perfect for me.
It’s perfect because it is where I go in the wee hours of a crisp, fall morning when it’s finally cold enough to see my breath and the incredible autumn sunrise.
It’s perfect because since it’s kind of enclosed and tunnel-ish, no one can see me standing there in my robe and slippers.
It’s perfect because I can lean against the wall and just…breathe.
The coffee I’m clutching in my hand has already begun to do it’s job but it doesn’t hold a candle to how awake, how alert, how alive I feel as my lungs are filled with the cool air.
More and more lately, I’m finding myself craving those moments.
Sometimes it’s because I’m needing breaks from book writing and a way to feel like I’m in touch with a world that exists away from my laptop. A world where the air actually moves around.
Sometimes, it’s because I need an escape from helping my son with 6th grade math since it regularly sends me back to that scary, dark time in my life where I had to pray my way through each math class and long for the days when I would never have to solve an Algebraic word problem ever again….or so I thought. In my opinion, having to help your children with the same school subjects you detested is one of life’s most cruel jokes.
Mostly, though, I’m just needing a moment. A simple, quiet moment.
One where I can take off my mom/wife/blogger/author/speaker/taxi driver/cook/housekeeper/homework helper hat.
One where I can just be…me.
A moment where, with the steam coming off of my coffee mug and the sun coming up over the hills in the distance, I am reminded of just how very small I am in this world. And yet, in that same moment, I’m reminded of just how very big is the love my Heavenly Father has for me.
Sometimes I get five minutes out there on my stucco-y porch. Most days I get closer to one minute.
But in that one glorious minute, standing there while the cool fall air envelopes me, I am refreshed, renewed and readied for the hours, minutes, seconds ahead.
And that, my friends, is really the most beautiful thing about my front porch. 🙂