Notes from the Porch: Still Connected
I read something recently that I have not been able to shake.
Scientists have discovered that a mother carries cells from her children in her body for decades. In her blood. In her heart. Even in her brain. And not only that, she can carry cells from generations before her too. Three generations living within one body.
It is remarkable.
But if I am honest, it is not surprising.
Because any mother who has ever watched a child walk away already knows this.
We have always felt it.
There is a connection that does not end when they leave the house. It does not end when they move across the country. And it certainly does not end when the relationship becomes strained or silent.
There is something that remains.
A knowing
A pull
A presence
You can be folding laundry, standing in the grocery store, or sitting quietly on the porch, and suddenly they are there in your thoughts as if no time has passed at all.
That is not weakness.
That is not you needing to move on.
That is how God designed it.
Scripture gives us a glimpse of this kind of connection.
Hebrews 7:9–10 tells us that Levi was “…still in the loins of his ancestor.” God has always seen generations as connected, woven together, not separate stories but one unfolding thread.
And here is where hope begins to rise.
Those cells scientists are studying do not just sit quietly. They help. They respond to injury. They even assist in healing.
A child’s cells have been found helping a mother’s heart repair.
Let that settle in for a moment.
Even when the child is no longer physically present, there is still something within her that carries life.
And I cannot help but think, if God designed the body this way, how much more has He designed the soul?
Because here is the truth we cling to on the Porch.
The Father who created this connection is not surprised by your story. He is not surprised by the distance. He is not surprised by the silence. And He is not limited by it.
While your child may be far away, God is not.
While communication may feel broken, God is still moving.
While your heart may feel the ache of absence, He is already at work in places you cannot see.
And just like those unseen cells that move toward healing, God is always moving toward restoration.
Always.
You may feel like everything is on hold. Like nothing is changing. Like the story has paused in a place you did not choose.
But heaven does not pause.
God does not stop working simply because you cannot see it.
And here is the quiet, steady hope.
The connection you feel is not something you need to fight. It is something God may very well be using.
To keep you praying
To keep you believing
To keep you positioned on the Porch with the light still on
Because love does not disconnect.
Not real love.
Not God given love.
It remains.
And if the body can carry life like that, quietly and faithfully over time, then you can trust this.
God is carrying your child even when you cannot.
So you sit. You pray. You trust.
Not because it is easy, but because the One who designed connection this deep has never once lost sight of the ones you love.
And on the days when it feels too quiet, too far, too broken, remember this.
You are still connected.
And more importantly, so are they.
And maybe you have noticed, it has been a little quiet here on the Porch.
Not because the Lord has been silent.
But because sometimes I have to step back and sit with Him myself.
This ministry matters deeply to me, but so does my own story.
I still walk through seasons of estrangement with my child, and there are moments when the ache is not something I can write my way through, only pray my way through.
Sometimes the most faithful thing we can do is be still long enough for Him to hold us, to strengthen us, to remind us that He is still working even when we cannot see it.
So if you have found yourself in a quiet season too, you are not behind. You are not forgotten. You are being held.
And when He fills your heart again, you will shine again. Maybe softly. Maybe slowly. But faithfully.
The porch light still shines.
