About a year after Jason and I got married we bought an old house that qualified for a historical marker had we pursued the paperwork. 

  
My favorite thing about this old house was the porch. It extended around the part of the house that jutted out in front. It faced our little street on the edge of town; a town so small that it was just made up of edges, no middle. 

Our porch had a white-painted wooden swing and two squeaky screen doors whose trim Jason's Papa painted the prettiest plum color. 

We spent nice afternoons on that porch, though looking back, I wish we'd spent more time there. 

We love the house we live in now, seventeen years later. This house lacks a proper spot for a porch swing; primarily because there's little porch at all. There's a covered spot leading to the entrance with a doormat and two sickly plants. There's just enough room for three people (tops) to squeeze in if its raining.  

There's no room for rocking chairs or coffee talk (not that I'm a coffee drinker). 

I wonder if we had our old porch back if I'd perch myself there in the evening hour watching the sun finish its final leg to the horizon. Would I be there waiting when neighbors walked by on brisk mornings with an eager wave that said "How's it going?"? 

We were busy back then. We were working jobs and caring for a toddler. We had family two to ten miles in nearly every direction whom we were going to see with hopes of bumming dinner most nights. We spent little time at home, much less on the porch. 

We're even busier now; still with jobs and with three kids. Our family and friends are scattered...and they're many. (And they're busy too). 

Had we a front porch now like we did in Iredell, we wouldn't have much time for sitting on it. Calendar-wise and square-footage wise, there's not enough space for that kind of front porch living in this season. 

I regret that this is the case, but it is the case, for us at least. We limit our kids activities. We're learning to say no to some things because there are ceaseless things to do and places to be. Still, our time is spent traveling from red light to red light and speeding through green ones.  We scurry like mice trying to get even our limited list completed. 

Having time to enjoy our surroundings and spend a quantity of time with people is difficult in this high speed age. We have blips of time. We must use them wisely. I like to think I put some of those blips to good use on Facebook. 

Facebook has become a new front porch. 

Before you do a face palm at such a statement, hear me out.

 Certainly Facebook doesn't substitute for face-to-face interaction. Facebook interaction, on its own, is superficial. We scroll, we like. Some times we click on comments and type in the "prayer hands" or "heart" emoji. If we're really touched, we tap out encouragement on the keys...a thirty word sentiment to cheer you on. 

 It doesn't have to stop there. Facebook is a setting, where sometimes, otherwise impossible friendships are forged. Just don't let Facebook be the whole of it. 

The front porch is where you wave. It's where you say to the person in passing..."It's a beautiful day!" or "Is your family well?" Most waved to from the porch will keep on going, glad for greeting. Some will mozy on over to where you are to engage in more meaningful conversation, especially if you invite them. 

I don't believe I'll ever say anything on Facebook that will have much effect on anyone's day, much less their life. But just like the old front porch in Iredell, Facebook is a place where a greeting or an encouraging comment can lead to so much more. 

I've had Facebook interaction that has led to meals with laughter. My engagement on Facebook has led to partnering in prayer with people, which does have the possibility of changing lives. I have developed friendships with several people I've never met; people with whom I have important things in common, people with which I can relate. I have plans to meet one lady in the next year whom I've prayed with for more than a year. She lives out of state, but we message each other frequently in hopes of encouraging one another. 

Facebook is a front porch with boundless possibility. Unlike the five-foot by five-foot slab out side my door, my electronic porch has grand dimensions. It reaches across oceans. Sure relationships aren't made of "likes" and emojis, but it can be a good start.
Purposeful relationships are for the taking and building, starting with your fingertips. 

Because even good things should be in moderation, I'm working on a post that includes smart Facebook guidelines. What would you include?

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