The Prayer Porch

Tag: life

  • The Internet: The Most Transformative Invention of Our Time

    Daily writing prompt
    The most important invention in your lifetime is…
    View all responses

    The most important invention in my lifetime may not be something we hold in our hands, but something we live inside of every day: the internet.

    It has changed how we learn, how we communicate, how we work, and how we tell our stories. With a few keystrokes, we can access information that once required libraries, time, and travel. We can stay connected to loved ones across distance and share moments that might otherwise be missed.

    And yet, this invention is not without its weight.

    The internet brings voices closer, but it can also amplify noise. It offers connection, yet sometimes leaves us feeling more isolated. It gives us answers quickly, while quietly challenging our ability to wait, wonder, and sit with what we do not know.

    How are we being shaped by what we consume so easily?

    The internet itself is not good or bad – it is powerful. And power, like all gifts, requires wisdom. We are called to use it in ways that reflect love, truth, and presence, rather than fear or division.

    Perhaps the invitation is not to step away entirely, but to step back occasionally – to choose intention over impulse, listening over reacting, and depth over speed.

    Even in a world that moves quickly, God still speaks softly.

    God of wisdom,
    Thank You for the tools that connect us and expand our understanding.
    Help us use them with care, humility, and love.

    Teach us when to engage and when to rest,
    when to listen and when to be still.
    Guard our hearts from distraction and division,
    and anchor us in what is true and life-giving.

    May we remain present to You and to one another,
    even in a digital world.
    Amen.

  • Quiet Moments of Grief: Finding Guidance in Dreams

    Quiet Moments of Grief: Finding Guidance in Dreams

    I had a dream about a friend who passed away not long ago. In the dream, he was fixing a light fixture – focused, steady, doing something ordinary and familiar. It was the same kind of task I had been wrestling with just days before. Small. Practical. Unremarkable to most.

    His former wife sat with their children, the television on, life moving as it does. He tried to speak to them, pointing toward the light, explaining something simple and important – but they weren’t listening. I stood nearby, not intervening, just watching. Witnessing.

    There was no urgency in the dream. No fear. Just a quiet ache.

    Light has always carried meaning. It shows us where we are. It helps us see clearly. It makes a home feel warm and livable. Watching him tend to the light felt like watching someone do what they had always done – care in quiet ways, serve without spectacle, offer guidance without demanding attention.

    Some people love loudly. Others love faithfully. This friend loved the Lord, and he lived that love not through grand gestures, but through steady presence and care for the everyday things. Fixing the light feels like that kind of faith – humble, unnoticed, enduring.

    Maybe the dream wasn’t about being heard.
    Maybe it was about being remembered.
    Or maybe it was simply my heart holding onto someone who mattered.

    We allow these moments to rest as they are. We don’t rush to label them or assign meaning too quickly. We let memory, love, and grief sit together – quietly, honestly.

    Some lights don’t go out when a person leaves.
    They linger in the way we notice, the way we pause, the way we remember how to care.

    Who has helped bring light into your life in quiet, faithful ways and how might their presence still be guiding you?

    Loving God,
    thank You for the lives that continue to shape us even after they are gone.
    For the quiet ways they brought light, steadiness, and care into our world.
    Help us carry their goodness forward tending to the small things with love,
    and trusting that no light given in faith is ever truly lost.

    Amen. 🤍

  • Nurturing Yourself Through Seasonal Illness

    Nurturing Yourself Through Seasonal Illness

    Gentle care for seasonal sickness

    After a second bout of COVID, I was reminded of something simple but easy to forget: our bodies speak – and when they do, they’re asking for kindness, not productivity.

    Seasonal sickness is inevitable. Colds, flu, lingering viruses – they arrive whether we plan for them or not. And while we often want to push through, these days invite us to tend, not conquer.

    Here are a few gentle ways to move through sick days with care and grace.

    🕯️ 1. Let Rest Be the Assignment

    This is not the season for catching up or powering through. Rest is not a reward – it’s part of healing. Quiet, naps, and stillness allow the body to do its unseen work.

    🍲 2. Simple Chicken Soup for Weak Days

    This is less a recipe and more a method – forgiving, nourishing, and easy.

    Simple Healing Chicken Soup

    • Chicken broth (homemade or good-quality store bought)
    • Cooked chicken (rotisserie works beautifully)
    • Carrots, celery, onion
    • Garlic (as much as feels good)
    • Salt, pepper, and a pinch of thyme

    Simmer gently until everything is soft and comforting. This kind of soup doesn’t rush – it waits for you.

    🍵 3. A Gentle Tea for Comfort & Congestion

    A warm mug can feel like medicine all on its own.

    Soothing Tea Blend

    • Chamomile (calming, comforting)
    • Ginger (warming, supportive)
    • Peppermint (helps breathing, eases the stomach)
    • A little honey, if desired

    Steep slowly. Sip slowly. Let warmth do what it does best.

    🌿 4. Simple Herbal Supports

    Nothing fancy – just gentle allies:

    • Elderberry for immune support
    • Ginger for warmth and circulation
    • Garlic for its natural protective properties
    • Thyme for coughs and chest comfort

    Use what you already have. Healing doesn’t need to be complicated.

    🕊️ 5. Release the Pressure

    Illness has a way of stripping life down to essentials. On these days, enough looks different – and that’s okay. The emails can wait. The world will keep spinning. Your job is to heal.


    There is grace even here – in cancelled plans, in slow mornings, in bowls of soup and quiet prayers whispered between naps. Sometimes healing is not about getting back to life quickly, but about letting life hold us gently until we’re ready to return

    When your body asks you to slow down, what helps you feel most cared for – physically or spiritually?

    “For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven.”
    — Ecclesiastes 3:1 (NLT)

  • From the porch

    From the porch

    Subscribe to continue reading

    Subscribe to get access to the rest of this post and other subscriber-only content.