Diocese of Covington - Messenger at 402 E. 21st Street, Covington, KY 41015 US - Believe, Teach, Practice

Almost every morning when I looked out my window I would see her. She would be sitting on her front porch reading her Bible. Her name was Tillie Stamper. She lived across the street from me when I was growing up. She was in her 60s. She wore faded old flowery dresses she had made herself from the materials on sale at the Bargain Barn. They were always a bit snug which she blamed on a bit “overdoin’” on cornbread and dried beans, and chicken gravy, homemade biscuits and tomatoes.

Her hair was always pulled back in a bun with a few wisps flying every which way. The sides of her black shoes were split intentionally, because “they just don’t make good shoes for people with bunions.” Her black rimmed “cat eye” glasses were constantly slipping down her nose. She had a mole on her chin the size of a green pea with a long white hair growing wildly out of it.

I loved this lady. She taught me a very powerful message. She taught me the pleasures and power of “porch sittin.’” Everyday, if the weather allowed, you could find Tillie Stamper just a sittin’ on her front porch swing. She always had a smile and a wave to share to those who passed by, and it didn’t matter if she knew them or not. Passersby would honk their horns in reply, and it didn’t matter if they knew her or not.

I would love to go over and sit on that swing with Tillie. She always was working with her hands ... shelling peas, breaking beans, knitting little doilies, petting her little dog Dusty who sat magically still on her right bosom, or she would be holding the Bible. She would tell the most fascinating stories. And if she really felt good, she would play the harmonica — “Amazing Grace,” “How Great Thou Art,” “The Old Rugged Cross” — and if she were in a really good mood, she would treat us to “Turkey in the Straw.” She had to be extra careful on that one because she had been known to lose her dentures if she got to going too fast. I only saw this happen once, but I remember all of us laughing so hard and her laughing the loudest of all!

Tillie knew how to laugh even at herself and it was contagious. And she knew about life. I would go to her with all the problems of a young boy and she would listen as if they were the biggest problems in the world. I would walk over and she could tell through my eyes that I was upset. She’d say, “David, looks like you and me need to do some serious porch sittin.’” She never made fun of how big the monsters were or how awful the beasts were in my life. She was the angel that came and comforted and waited on me. She made me feel special; after “porch sittin’” with her I could go out and face the world again — I was ready for just about anything.

Tillie knew Jesus knew something about “porch sittin,’” too. They each saw how important it is to get away from our usual routines and just sit and be quiet and listen to God. She used to laugh and say that porch sittin’ takes patience and practice. “For good results, best e-a-s-e into it. It’s not easy to just sit and listen. There are a lot of noisy distractions happening ... on the outside and on the inside. We get used to all that noise and it starts to feel kinda cozy and we find a sort of comfort in our predictable busy daily routines, but it never lasts.”

Tillie and Jesus saw how important it was to get away ... to the desert or to the porch swing ... to turn our eyes inward and examine our lives. As Tillie put it, “Porch sittin’ is a time to really look at ourselves and consider whether or not we like what we see.”

I learned a valuable lesson or two from this amazing woman. I try to heed her advice, especially when autumn comes. I would encourage each of you to do the same. Consider doin’ some “serious porch sittin’” for yourselves these next few weeks. I bet you will be quite pleased to experience the pleasures and power porch sittin’ holds for you, too! Oh, yeah, I almost forgot — remember, it takes patience and practice, so for good results … best e-a-s-e into it!

Deacon David Flynn is a member of St. Agnes Church, Ft. Wright, Ky. His column is another in a series written by deacons as an outgrowth of a Synod policy to give deacons another outlet to proclaim the Gospel.