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Welcome to my front porch.

Portrait African American Nun and Priest in Office

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After more than thirty years of counseling, I’m retired now. No ceremonies. No counseling. No weddings. No funerals. Now I sit and relax, tending to what matters most—my wife, our marriage, my reading, and the quiet responsibilities of this season. I write from the rocking chair, not the pulpit, not the microphone. I companion through story, not service. And if you’re weary, wondering, or simply longing for a place to sit and breathe… Welcome.

The Porch

The Front Porch
The front porch is a threshold place—neither inside nor outside, but somewhere in between. It’s where rocking chairs creak, silence lingers, and stories find room to breathe. The porchlight glows softly, not to dazzle but to guide, a beacon for those who need rest or companionship.
Here, presence matters more than answers. The porch is a space of spiritual hospitality, where honesty is welcome and resilience is honored. It’s a place to sit without hurry, to share the ache of disappointment and the grace that carries us through.
The front porch is not a stage or a pulpit—it’s a place of belonging. A place where healing is slow, but real. A place where you are invited to sit, to be seen, and to know you are not alone.
