tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41769508891455186132024-10-24T23:22:16.632-04:00This is a new chapter. Buckle up.Jon Porterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02231805375818633656noreply@blogger.comBlogger66125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4176950889145518613.post-53578650315079149512014-08-04T09:13:00.000-04:002014-08-04T12:02:55.537-04:00

3 Omelets That is my job.  Make the omelets.  They say I’m the best at it.   I think its just their way of making me feel needed and important.   After all, its just beaten eggs, cheese, and heat. But that is my assignment…make the omelets. Because this is kind of a big day.  First day of school.  The launch of our “best year yet”.   The promise of new

Jon Porterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02231805375818633656noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4176950889145518613.post-91331839397525952222014-07-29T15:49:00.003-04:002014-07-31T15:02:51.490-04:00

I’ve lost count of how many funerals I’ve officiated over the years.  But of all the funerals I’ve been blessed to be a part of one stands out to this very day. It haunts me. It resonates. I was asked to do a graveside service in early winter.  The kind of day that is bathed in grey and the type of cold that just sinks into your bones. I had no connection with the family.  I was

Jon Porterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02231805375818633656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4176950889145518613.post-23309498483635652372014-05-22T17:45:00.004-04:002014-05-22T17:48:56.813-04:00

“Am I the son I think I am… Am I the friend I think I am… Am I the man I think I wanna be…?” I Am – Train We will all come upon a time when everything is shaken.  And it is during these violent tremors that ripple through the hot mess of our lives that what yesterday was not even remotely pondered today becomes the 3:00 in the morning question that robs us of our sleep…and our peace.

Jon Porterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02231805375818633656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4176950889145518613.post-57086224029947726612014-05-06T11:33:00.000-04:002014-05-06T11:33:25.786-04:00

“It’s beyond me…” How many times when faced with seemingly impossible circumstances have we thrown up our arms and made that statement? Face those circumstances as a group and we can easily change the statement to the plural – “it’s beyond us” There is no humanly possible way we are going to be able to pull this off, make this change, restore this relationship, or move that mountain.

Jon Porterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02231805375818633656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4176950889145518613.post-16988364057373029622014-05-01T16:43:00.003-04:002014-05-01T16:43:27.768-04:00

Guest post today from my best friend, Kim Porter,  on the anniversary of her Grandfather's homecoming. One year ago today my Grandpa, James Barnes, went home at the age of 92.  He was a proud  veteran of WWII, a navy man, and a member of the Greatest Generation.  As his granddaughter I was privileged to hear his stories, jokes and wisdom.  I am

Jon Porterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02231805375818633656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4176950889145518613.post-56284062773120002082014-04-25T18:05:00.000-04:002014-04-25T18:05:50.001-04:00

But it only seemed like a few days, he loved her so much. Genesis 29:20b - The Message I think the mistake we make is we measure so much in the language and confines of years. What we fail to realize is that it is the moments that count... Moments of laughter Moments of tears Moments of expectancy And moments of uncertainty Moments of life and love Most of the greatest moments

Jon Porterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02231805375818633656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4176950889145518613.post-5427230005917889332014-04-23T10:36:00.001-04:002014-04-23T10:36:46.559-04:00

I am having a bit a trouble putting thoughts to words recently... Wanted to share this with whoever needs it today like I do. Peace

Jon Porterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02231805375818633656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4176950889145518613.post-78848198101096039032014-04-15T12:55:00.002-04:002014-04-15T12:57:52.136-04:00

I didn't want to.  I put it off as long as I possibly could.  I don't like to run.  At all.  But there I was, staring down the treadmill, trying to will myself to start. Who am I kidding? It took all I had to just stand up. But then I met Jane. Jane is a 8 year old hero of monumental proportions. Jane Richard was 7 years old when the bombs went off at the finish line of

Jon Porterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02231805375818633656noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4176950889145518613.post-22102536269460601202014-04-11T14:22:00.000-04:002014-04-23T10:59:52.531-04:00

I'm struggling here. Seems like I'm not a part of your world much anymore.   Taking a little getting use to.  Didn't use to be like that. Use to be you would plop the whole of your world right into my lap.   We would turn page after page after page. We would talk about all the places you'd go... and not forgetting the soap... and the perils of giving a mouse a cookie...&

Jon Porterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02231805375818633656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4176950889145518613.post-59051775199957946172014-04-01T12:49:00.000-04:002014-04-01T12:49:36.910-04:00

Sometimes dads fail. I did yesterday.  It was EPIC. I had been carrying the weight of circumstances around all afternoon.   I had chosen to marinate in the drama and it had soaked in.   I was fretting.  I was scared.  I was angry. I was ticking… What happened is irrelevant.  If I were to describe it I would inevitably try to justify my actions.

Jon Porterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02231805375818633656noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4176950889145518613.post-23819196197521464672014-03-31T11:14:00.003-04:002014-03-31T11:14:52.071-04:00

Hello All, First, I'd like to thank those of you who come by this site and visit the dysfunction that is the life of Jon Porter.  I hope you have, on occasion, found something that lifts you up, makes you think, and points you to see how God is in all of this thing we call life. Along the way, I have tried to stay as authentic and transparent as possible.  This is simply a journal of

Jon Porterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02231805375818633656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4176950889145518613.post-23264564668652792742014-03-20T11:29:00.000-04:002014-03-20T11:29:24.012-04:00

In honor of the Greensburg Pirates Basketball Team.  A repost from this time last year Benaiah son of Jehoiada,  a valiant fighter from Kabzeel,  performed great exploits.   He struck down Moab's two mightiest warriors.  He also went down into a pit on a snowy day and killed a lion.  - 1 Chron. 11:22 Benaiah has to be one of my favorite Biblical

Jon Porterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02231805375818633656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4176950889145518613.post-35188122116508090432014-03-19T13:32:00.001-04:002014-03-19T13:32:25.557-04:00

This is a revisit to a post from this same time last year.  The journey the Pirate basketball team has been on this season is just as exciting as it was last year, but for me, the real joy comes from all the moments that show the character of these young men Greensburg is so proud of.  This is about one of those young men and one of those moments... My high school alma mater's boys

Jon Porterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02231805375818633656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4176950889145518613.post-89040247713802431042014-03-11T17:00:00.000-04:002014-03-12T23:18:49.701-04:00

Dear Joseph, You don't know me.  We've never met.  We became aquatinted through my cousin. You don't know her either. You were trolling Facebook for a fight when you noticed her post. My cousin was very eloquently, humbly, and respectfully trying to start a conversation. A conversation.  That is all. Do I have your attention now, Joseph? Here's the deal... The

Jon Porterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02231805375818633656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4176950889145518613.post-76549341207017666322014-03-03T21:01:00.000-05:002014-03-03T22:05:33.196-05:00

FishStick. That is the latest nickname for our youngest daughter, FishStick.  The name was born from her latest athletic endeavor, competitive swimming.  When asked what draws FishStick to swimming, she answers with refreshing honesty..."you don't sweat". She's not the strongest.  Or the fastest.  Or the most successful. But I love to watch FishStick swim. I love the

Jon Porterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02231805375818633656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4176950889145518613.post-71056710615630099492014-02-17T14:55:00.000-05:002014-02-17T20:51:22.986-05:00

I’ve never been much of a Jay Leno fan.   I have nothing against him, just never really got into watching him.   I’ve always seemed to gravitate more towards Dave.   Maybe it’s our alumni status, bent towards sarcasm, or musical guests.   But even with that, when EVERYTHING got political I even drifted away from Dave. I watch a lot of ‘Diners,

Jon Porterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02231805375818633656noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4176950889145518613.post-58264471251901537672014-02-11T16:57:00.002-05:002014-02-11T16:57:50.129-05:00

Every four years the Olympics transfix me. And by transfixed, I mean I will watch sports that I soon will forget are played - for another 4 years. Seriously... Curling? Finally, a sport I’m built for! Did I miss the strenuous tetherball pool play? Is Duck, Duck, Goose a summer or winter sport? I miraculously now have an opinion on whether that landing was 'stuck' or if that

Jon Porterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02231805375818633656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4176950889145518613.post-49595664523836234672014-01-21T17:00:00.000-05:002014-01-22T10:14:53.511-05:00

This won't last forever... That thought popped into my head about 90 minutes into our trip.  A trip that usually takes a little over on hour, today will take us just under 3.  Winter won't let up.  I am the designated driver for my parents, shuttling my mom to an outpatient surgical procedure.  And we are running late.  And mom is worrying.  And letting me know

Jon Porterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02231805375818633656noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4176950889145518613.post-24279363330587024242014-01-13T15:52:00.000-05:002014-01-14T06:55:28.341-05:00

I knew what she was going to ask.  I'd been hearing her hint at it for the last 2 days.   "What do you want to do about church?"   These days, for me, that is a loaded question.   My responses border somewhere between social disobedience and civil unrest.   I didn't want to go.   I was really liking this whole 'staying in bed on Sunday' groove I had going. &nbsp

Jon Porterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02231805375818633656noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4176950889145518613.post-82209699867678849732014-01-07T14:14:00.004-05:002014-01-07T14:15:15.746-05:00

Tried to write something just now Even posted it Took it down Maybe I'm a coward Or getting wiser or a combination of both If the last post makes it out there...I'll own up to it If it doesn't...you'll think what you will. We're fine We're blessed Pray you are as well Maybe there'll be more later...

Jon Porterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02231805375818633656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4176950889145518613.post-70868286668507477942013-12-21T08:54:00.001-05:002013-12-21T08:54:50.286-05:00

When I grow up I want to be like this kid. Relax Breathe Love Merry Christmas

Jon Porterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02231805375818633656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4176950889145518613.post-35519296770813157992013-12-20T16:00:00.000-05:002013-12-20T16:00:00.416-05:00

(This was written when my oldest daughter, Kate, was a 6th grader.  She has recently completed her sophomore year as a letter winner on the cross country team.  And she still says she can go faster) I wonder if this is how God feels… It has been a remarkable season watching Kate (my oldest) run cross-country for her junior high team.  Remarkable in the sense that

Jon Porterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02231805375818633656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4176950889145518613.post-31568857501096963622013-12-20T10:40:00.000-05:002013-12-20T14:51:00.284-05:00

You don't know me. I hold no real position of authority. I have no leverage, influence, or any great wisdom that warrants you paying me any mind. I am nobody. With that said... Here's what I've learned from this past year… We really know how to hate the other guy. We are willing to accept behavior that we would punish our children for displaying  (well, some parents would -

Jon Porterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02231805375818633656noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4176950889145518613.post-74703787105024903592013-12-18T17:57:00.001-05:002013-12-18T17:57:43.696-05:00

Benaiah son of Jehoiada,  a valiant fighter from Kabzeel,  performed great exploits.   He struck down Moab's two mightiest warriors.  He also went down into a pit on a snowy day and killed a lion.  - 1 Chron. 11:22 Benaiah has to be one of my favorite Biblical characters, even though he doesn't get much publicity. Here's why... Benaiah did work. Day in, day

Jon Porterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02231805375818633656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4176950889145518613.post-50234690820480658632013-12-12T11:45:00.000-05:002013-12-18T18:14:23.374-05:00

Though only in my life for the past couple of years, Joe MacCrae quickly became my hero I would sit enthralled by stories of his youth When we were a nation of backbone, conviction, character, and courage Honor meant something to Joe He loved his wife his friends my girls and even me I would talk to Joe about Christ... about forgiveness about grace I asked Joe if he had accepted Jesus as

Jon Porterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02231805375818633656noreply@blogger.com4