Back porch therapy

 

I remember this picture of me on our back porch swing at the Getaway Place.  The swing creaked gently as I rocked back and forth, watching the sun eventually dip below tree lines. At our country retreat, the evening air carries only cricket songs and the whisper of wind through the pines. It should be peaceful. In many ways, it is. Yet my mind churns with the weight of all we're facing as a nation.

I went there seeking clarity, or perhaps escape. The wooden slats of the old porch swing at my grandmother’s place must have held generations before me, each likely wrestling with the challenges of their own time. Did they also feel this peculiar mix of exhaustion and determination? This tension between the desire to retreat and the call to engage?

The thing about stepping back is that it allows you to see the whole picture more clearly. From this back porch vantage point, I can trace where we've been and glimpse possibilities of where we might go. The problems don't disappear – they're still there, stark as ever. But something shifts in how we relate to them.

Fighting for what's right isn't always about charging forward with flags flying. Sometimes it's about finding this quiet space where we can replenish our reserves. Sometimes courage looks like sitting still long enough to remember why we began this journey in the first place.

To those feeling weary in the struggle: I see you. I feel it too. The temptation to give up, to say "let someone else carry this burden" grows stronger with each disappointing headline. But history has shown us that change comes from ordinary people who simply refuse to stop believing in better possibilities.

As the evening deepens on my back-porch therapy couch and stars begin to emerge, I feel something steadying within me. Not a fiery resolve, but something cooler and more sustainable. A quiet certainty that while I may not see all the answers, I can still show up tomorrow. I can still extend a hand to others walking this path. I can still believe in our capacity to heal and grow as a nation.

The porch swing keeps its steady rhythm, and I realize that perhaps this is exactly where I need to be. Not to escape the fight, but to remember how to fight differently. With grace. With persistence. With hope that flows not from naive optimism but from a deep well of commitment to what's possible.  Tomorrow, I'll return to the work that needs doing. But tonight, I gather strength in stillness, knowing I'm not alone in this journey. And neither are you.

Be blessed and at peace. ~wcd