Anything can happen on a porch. Connection. Refreshment. Reflection. Rejection, sometimes. Even buying and selling.
As a child in the sixties, I had the chore of sweeping our small, utilitarian front porch clear of its weekly accumulation of dirt and spiders. Rarely do I remember anyone but company using that porch – and door-to-door salesmen like the Fuller Brush man. He stood his brooms and mops in the porch’s corner, opened his case and spread out his smaller wares on the small top platform. Mom hovered low to inspect; opening tins and sniffing soaps and ointments before choosing.
The fellow never left the porch without leaving a gift: a letter opener or shoe horn, even a comb or small plastic fry pan spoon holder), all embossed with the words “Compliments of your Fuller Brush Dealer.”
A big enough porch makes a convenient place to welcome family and guests. To enjoy a refreshing pause during the dog days of summer, alone or with company. To hello a passing neighbor, wave a long good-bye to a beloved guest. Or simply to stand and stare, perhaps utter a prayer, as a fire engine races past.
Got rugs to shake? Birds to feed? No better place than a porch for that. For watching the sun set, the moon rise, the stars wink. For shouting out pleasant words like “Dinner!” and less pleasant ones like an anxious call to a wandering pet or a stern warning to furry squatters.
Something happened on my porch at sunrise a few weeks ago. Overnight, the thermometer plummeted to twenty below zero, but Grace Cat insisted on ducking outside for his customary sniff of morning air. When he didn’t return after an hour, I started calling.
I called from the garage door. “Graaaa…..cy!”
I called from the back deck. “Here, Grace! “
I called from the front porch. “Come, kitty, kitty!”
The cat likely heard, but chose not to respond. Someone else did, though. Clear and pure as a silver dart, flew back the voice of a child who loves me. “I hear you, Nana!”
“I hear you too!” I called, tickled.
Benjamin Bean lives a block over. My voice floated to him as he stood in his front yard, viewing the sunrise through his family’s telescope.
The cat came back eventually. Days later, I still ponder the wonder of that responsive little voice, piercing the still, chill dawn and reaching me. God’s wireless network; a message transported on frigid Saskatchewan air alone. A sunrise surprise on my porch. I smiled all day.
Having the unexpected voice of someone who loves you waft like a feather and land all by itself on your porch, warms one from the toes up – even on a winter prairie morning. Makes you want to rush to that child and embrace him.
Imagine a porch in heaven. Imagine God there, calling. Imagine recognizing his voice. Answering back, heart full of eager. “Lord, I hear you!” Imagine his delight.
God never stops calling. Are you listening?
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Nostalgia Lane…
This 20 year old article details the memories of one Fuller Brush dealer, and the Fuller Brush company is still going strong!