Out on the Front Porch

Sitting on a front porch holds wonderful summertime memories for me and holds such romantic invitations.

As a child I loved the sounds of cicadas, and the sunlight filtering through the bamboo blinds, and Velveeta cheese on fresh made bread on Grandmas’ front verandah. The grand stately old home I lived in from age 11-14 sat high on a hill overlooking the small town I grew up in – it had a wonderful full width front porch with an old fashioned glider sofa. The plump turquoise cushions surrounded my body as lay there on summer days devouring books on history or nursing. I used to dream of being kissed on that front porch swing! And it was the perfect place to watch a wild summer lightening storm.

The other day I was chatting with a friend who was swinging on her front porch. One day I will own a house with a wonderful front porch or perhaps a lovely porch off of the main bedroom. It is a place to hear the world yet to close your eyes and linger, listening in a different way to the heartbeat of your environment.

These chairs on the front porch where I work make me think of Africa, to hear the sounds of cicadas from childhood and at the same time to smell the roses that are so abundant in the garden that surrounds the Linwood House front porch.

Funny – this summer seems to be all about lingering, and the invitations that the Spirit continues to whisper in this season. God must so enjoy his front porch view too, just lingering and waiting, whispering invitations. 

Invitations

It never changes - the morning sunrise is always, always, an inviation to come and linger. Morning constantly invites me to linger and I hate the days where I must rush out without doing that. This particular morning, I sought out the sunrise and this was my answer. 

Woundedness and Worship

What we do in our ministry revolves completely around sacred space, invitations to experience extravagant love and grace, and walking the uncharted road to healing with the broken. It gives purpose and redemption to our own brokenness when we walk with others.

These last 3 days the daily devotions from Henri Nouwen's site have very succinctly given a picture of Jesus view of woundedness.

The Wounded Healer
"Nobody escapes being wounded. We all are wounded people, whether physically, emotionally, mentally, or spiritually. The main question is not "How can we hide our wounds?" so we don't have to be embarrassed, but "How can we put our woundedness in the service of others?" When our wounds cease to be a source of shame, and become a source of healing, we have become wounded healers.

Jesus is God's wounded healer: through his wounds we are healed. Jesus' suffering and death brought joy and life. His humiliation brought glory; his rejection brought a community of love. As followers of Jesus we can also allow our wounds to bring healing to others."

Tending Our Own Wounds First
"Our own experience with loneliness, depression, and fear can become a gift for others, especially when we have received good care. As long as our wounds are open and bleeding, we scare others away. But after someone has carefully tended to our wounds, they no longer frighten us or others.

When we experience the healing presence of another person, we can discover our own gifts of healing. Then our wounds allow us to enter into a deep solidarity with our wounded brothers and sisters."

Listening With Our Wounds
"To enter into solidarity with a suffering person does not mean that we have to talk with that person about our own suffering. Speaking about our own pain is seldom helpful for someone who is in pain. A wounded healer is someone who can listen to a person in pain without having to speak about his or her own wounds. When we have lived through a painful depression, we can listen with great attentiveness and love to a depressed friend without mentioning our experience. Mostly it is better not to direct a suffering person's attention to ourselves. We have to trust that our own bandaged wounds will allow us to listen to others with our whole beings. That is healing."

This morning I was re-reading Parker Palmer's thoughts on the "Circle of Trust" and how essential being present is. Nouwen's thought reinforce this truth of being present, staying present, in our own journey enough to be present with others' in theirs. In my early morning walk along the beach I find that being present brings my senses alive to the life that exists in the morning with the sea exhaling on the shore, the eagles watching from their perch, tall grass that sways and whispers in the breeze and a plethora of tiny birds that are filled with energy and song. What I realized this morning was that the Wounded Healer was so very present, and in that Holy Moment my soul was soaring in worship, while my feet kept a steady pace along the path. Being present was full with energy, with solace and with healing.