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“Listen,—perhaps you catch a hint of an ancient state not quite forgotten; dim, perhaps, and yet not altogether unfamiliar, like a song whose name is long forgotten, and the circumstances in which you heard completely unremembered. Not the whole song has stayed with you, but just a little wisp of melody, attached not to a person or a place or anything particular. But you remember, from just this little part, how lovely was the song, how wonderful the setting where you heard it, and how you loved those who were there and listened with you.” (T-21.I.6) On my front porch, the world breathes with me. It’s a mid-November morning in New Orleans, and the air feels like a soft embrace, cool enough to awaken but warm enough to comfort. The porch is old and weathered but alive. It sees countless lives and stories that have passed by its steps. The creak of the wooden rocker beneath me feels familiar as if it is an extension of my being. https://www.pathwaysoflight.org/index.php/Miracles_News/full_article/12374