I am grateful for a beautiful Friday morning in small town USA, where the windows are open and I am surrounded by a cool breeze.

I am grateful for an inviting unpainted porch swing, just begging for a visit at noon.

I am grateful for front porch evidence of grandchildren who visited, hanging on to the memories of fireworks snakes and chalky rainbows.

I am grateful for a kitchen porch on which to sit with Sam each morning, serenaded by catbirds and cardinals and mourning doves, while he enjoys his coffee and oatmeal and I read our devotions and we both just “ahhhhhhhhh…”

And I am grateful that in small town USA, we don’t care about impressions so much. We hang out wet jeans and robes on our makeshift clothesline, better known as the front porch railing, for all the town to see.