We have a Magic Porch.
After two years of living in rented or borrowed space, our lives began to gain some semblance of stability, and we decided to take another leap of faith by pursuing home ownership. It was a buyers' market, so things were in our favor. Not wanting to overextend ourselves, we bought conservatively: a two-story built in 1887, one of the first homes in the vicinity, most likely on farmland but now with one foot in the ‘hood and the other, well, close to the ‘hood. Really close.
When Tara first walked into Liam’s room and started complaining of vertigo, I got a little worried. While Liam got his space ready, he set his longboard on one end of the room and it rolled clear to the other side. This would either be a charming and quirky space or our own real-life rendition of The Money Pit.
We didn’t go looking for The Porch. It just happened to be attached to one of the few houses on the market we could afford. And we certainly didn’t realize it was magic because, for a couple of months,
By this time, 3 Coffee & Roastery was in year two and looking financially grim. We had tried three different locations. To quote TS Eliot, we were going out “not with a bang but a whimper”. My heart for coffee and business had waned and was unexpectedly being replaced with a desire for ministry. It was at 3 Coffee that I began to engage relationships again. Customers would frequently tell me very personal things, many of them unaware of my background in pastoral work. Eventually, I quit griping, accepted it and embraced it. Saying “no” all the time to what God gently but persistently calls us just gets tiring after awhile. I knew I was going to lose anyway.
In the absence of the intimate space of the coffee shop, our L-shaped porch began to resemble 3 Coffee. Tara has created a space to write, her latest addition being a flavored laptop. A window and the front door open into a straight line. If I sit on my side and Tara sits on hers, I could peg her with one of our Nerf guns.
Two of our coffee shop tables found their spot in there. Soon my “pickin’ gliders”, oil lamp, an old tabletop humidor Tara and the kids had given me. Then my pipes. And finally a framed three-page letter my dear friend Dee Tillman had given me exactly five years ago today. It tells me every day what he believed by faith when I didn’t – that the storm would pass, that I’d get tossed and beaten by the waves, and that I’d eventually wash up on the beach of a beautiful island where God had built us a new home. This new home happened to come with a Porch and we have have flung the screen door wide open. The Porch has become a place of hospitality where many have found rest, good wine, lively guitar music, joyful laughter, sorrowful tears and rich soul conversation. We recently learned it has inspired our son Liam and his cousin Glenn to shape a Magic Garage of their own. I tested it out last night. Good to go!
People who sit on our gliders speak often of how they feel or what they experience in The Porch. And it was here that I embraced this next season of life – to walk with people as we journey through this beautiful and messy thing called life. And yes, sometimes even sit with them.
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