Today, as I was tending to a sick neighbor on my front porch, it hit me how many different experiences I’ve had there. My front porch is not just a place you pass by to enter my house. It is the life of the house. It is what makes it a home. It is where so much of life happens. The front porch is where I greet people and say goodbye, it’s where I watch the world go by. I have hired people there and fired people there. I have eaten there, alone or with friends. There I have, taken out stitches (more than once), cleaned scrapes, removed splinters, checked temperatures, packed a wound, given out tablets, treated malaria and provided healthcare education of all sorts. I’ve read there, sang there, danced there, lectured there, and laughed there. I’ve mourned there, heard of births and deaths there. I’ve prayed there. I’ve witnessed history there. I’ve watched the sunset and the rain. I’ve been entertained by naked Liberian children, ridiculous construction workers and yelling Chinese men. There I have played games, put together puzzles and learned magic tricks. I’ve watched a fire threaten and heard gunfire there. I’ve had business meetings and family meetings there. There I have hosted dogs, cats, a chimpanzee, and a pangolin. Unconscious children have been brought there. I've entertained strangers there. I’ve yelled there, cried there, listened there and been listened to there. I have watched the lightening make the night sky shine. I’ve met God there. Friends have been made there. Family has joined there. Good memories and bad memories have been made there. My love of Liberia has grown there.
