Beyond the Porchlight: The Journey Isn't Over

For more than 25 years, I have had the privilege of packing my bags, boarding buses and planes, and exploring this beautiful world with some pretty wonderful people.

We've walked cobblestone streets, stood in places where history was made, seen breathtaking views, eaten things we couldn't pronounce, gotten lost a time or two, laughed until we cried, and made friendships that traveled home with us.

Now, as that chapter of my journey is coming to a close. JUST THE BANK TRAVEL..NOT MY DAY JOB AND NO, I'M NOT RETIRING, BUT yes, it still makes me a little sad.

But if travel has taught me anything, it is this: when one journey ends, there is usually another one waiting just Beyond The Porchlight.

What Travel Has Taught Me About Money

Over the years, I've heard people say, "I wish I could travel like that."

My answer has often been some version of: You may be able to—you have to decide what matters to you and plan for it.

My mother always told me, "You get to decide your lifestyle." The older I get, the more I understand how much truth is packed into those few words.

Travel doesn't always require being wealthy. It requires planning.

Maybe your dream isn't Greece, Italy, New York City, or Washington, D.C. Maybe it's taking your grandchildren to the beach. Maybe it's an anniversary trip you've talked about for 20 years. Maybe it's visiting family across the country. Or maybe your dream has nothing to do with travel at all.

Whatever your somewhere or someday looks like, money is a tool that can help you get there.

That means making a budget that includes more than bills. It means saving intentionally. It means understanding where your money is going, preparing for emergencies, reducing debt, learning about retirement, and sometimes saying no today so you can say yes to something you really want tomorrow.

And maybe that is where my next journey begins.

After more than 40 years in banking, I've learned that financial education doesn't have to be complicated or intimidating. Sometimes it just needs to feel like two friends sitting on the front porch talking about life, money, mistakes, dreams, and what we've learned along the way.

I want to have more of those conversations.

I want to talk about budgeting and saving. About retirement and understanding the financial words people sometimes assume we already know. About planning for the life we want to live—not just paying for the life we're living today.

And yes, I still want to talk about travel.

Because a big, beautiful world lies beyond the porchlight, and managing our money wisely can give us the freedom to experience more of it.

So while one chapter of my travel story is ending, the journey is not over.

There are still stories to tell, lessons to share, dreams to plan for—and perhaps a few more places to explore.

For now, I'm simply grateful.

Grateful for every mile traveled, every passport stamp, every laugh, every lesson, and especially every friendship made along the way.

The traveling may be changing, but I'm not quite ready to come in off the porch just yet.

There's still a whole lot of travel and life waiting beyond the porchlight.

Beyond the Porchlight: When History Becomes Personal

This was my third time traveling through parts of this itinerary, but our Celebrate America 250 Tour carried a meaning unlike any trip before it.

I attended a private Christian school, and I often tease that most of my history lessons were Bible-based, with perhaps a little less time spent on our Founding Fathers. While there may be some truth to that, I have learned something important during my more than 25 years of traveling with groups: travel opens the door to the kind of history lesson no textbook can provide.

It allows us to stand where history happened. To walk the same paths. To hear the stories. And suddenly, the names, dates, and events we once memorized become real people who made courageous choices.

At Concord, I thought about how many times I had heard the phrases “the shot heard ’round the world” and “the Minutemen.” I knew the words—but standing at the Old North Bridge was different.

Our local historian described the men advancing across that bridge and told us that this was the moment they were no longer simply British colonists. They were becoming Americans.

That statement stayed with me.

Several veterans traveled with us, and as I looked around at their faces, I could only imagine what was going through their minds. They understood sacrifice and service in a way many of us never fully can. In that moment, the distance between 1776 and today seemed to disappear.

History had come to life.

Our journey then took us to New York City, where another lesson was waiting.

When we first met our local guide, several of us quietly made assumptions based on his appearance. We thought he might be someone experiencing homelessness. Instead, he turned out to be our guide—and one of the finest storytellers I have ever had the privilege of hearing.

It was a humbling reminder that we truly cannot judge a book by its cover.

As he led us through the 9/11 Memorial, he shared personal stories of ordinary people who became heroes—young men who helped save the lives of others, some at the cost of their own. He explained that the swamp white oak trees surrounding the memorial were chosen because they are native to the regions of all three 9/11 crash sites: New York City, Arlington, Virginia, and Shanksville, Pennsylvania.

Those trees had been in our pictures all along, but now we knew the story behind them.

Suddenly, they were no longer simply part of the landscape. Each one seemed to carry a face, a family, and a life cut short. What had been a beautiful visual became something sacred. There were tears in our eyes as we stood there and allowed the weight of those stories to settle into our hearts.

Experiences like that followed us through Pennsylvania and into Washington, D.C.

At the Lincoln Memorial, these words from the Gettysburg Address stood out to me:

“The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here.”

Those words were written about another time and another sacrifice, but they seemed to speak directly to our journey.

We may forget dates. We may forget details. We may even forget some of the words spoken by our guides. But we will not forget how it felt to stand at Concord’s Old North Bridge, to walk through the 9/11 Memorial, to remember the passengers and crew of Flight 93 in Pennsylvania, or to honor those resting at Arlington National Cemetery.

We will remember what they did.

This trip reminded me once again why travel matters. It takes us beyond what is familiar and comfortable. It challenges our assumptions, changes our perspective and teaches us to see people—and history—with new eyes.

Sometimes we must step beyond the porchlight to understand just how much courage, sacrifice and faith were required to build the life we so easily take for granted.

For 250 years, men and women have stood in the face of fear, uncertainty and unimaginable loss to defend this place we call America. From the farmers who crossed a bridge at Concord to the passengers aboard Flight 93 who fought back on September 11, ordinary people have made extraordinary choices because they believed this country—and the lives of others—were worth protecting.

I returned home with a grateful heart, a deeper appreciation for the sacrifices woven into our nation’s story, and a renewed pride in being an American.

But as meaningful as the destinations have been during my many years of travel, the greatest gift has always been the people. Travelers may leave home as acquaintances, but somewhere along the road—through shared meals, laughter, tears, and unforgettable experiences—they become genuine friends.

Long after the suitcases are unpacked and the photographs begin to fade, those friendships remain.

That is the beauty of traveling beyond the porchlight.

You may leave home expecting to see the world, only to discover that the journey has changed the way you see everything.

Greece, Paul, and the People Along the Way

Beyond the Porchlight: Greece, Paul, and the People Along the Way

As we finally boarded the plane after a delay, the excitement written across each face made one thing clear — this would be a journey they would carry home and share for years to come. For many, this wasn’t simply a vacation. It was a dream years in the making—a chance to travel beyond their own porchlights and step into history, faith, and adventure together.

When we arrived in Athens, six of our travelers had arrived early, and the hugs we shared as we reunited revealed something beautiful — bonds had already begun to form long before the journey officially started. Traveling together has a way of doing that. It removes strangers and replaces them with stories, laughter, and connection.

Athens itself surprised many of us. At first glance, the graffiti-covered streets and worn buildings felt more “third world” than the polished images found in travel magazines. But as often happens in life, beauty waited beyond our first impression.

Standing atop Mars Hill, where the Apostle Paul preached his famous sermon recorded in Acts 17, I looked directly across at the Acropolis — towering above the city as a monument to ancient gods and human achievement. In that moment, Paul’s words became real to me in a way they never had before. Surrounded by temples built to false gods, he stood boldly proclaiming the truth. Looking across that landscape, I realized just how powerful his message must have been.

Many in our group climbed the Acropolis itself — no easy feat for a group of senior adults navigating steep, slippery stone pathways. Yet one by one, they made it to the top. Breathless, tired, proud, they could say, “I did it.” Honestly, not many people — young or old — can say that.

After Athens, we boarded a short flight to Santorini, where several travelers from across the United States joined our group of 25. During the flight, one lady experienced a sudden drop in blood sugar. Before anyone could fully react, one of the two doctors traveling with our group jumped from his seat to help this stranger. The compassion and gentleness he showed came from something deeper than medical training — genuine care for people. Throughout the trip, I watched her greet him with heartfelt gratitude every time their paths crossed.

And then there was Santorini.

Even with May 1, 2026, being recorded as the coldest May Day in Greece in over 70 years, the island still felt magical. We certainly had not packed for freezing wind, but the whitewashed buildings, blue domes, dramatic cliffs, and endless ocean views somehow seemed even more beautiful against the cool air and cloudy skies.

The landscapes were breathtaking, but the food may have rivaled the scenery. Everything seemed to float in priceless extra virgin olive oil. My favorite surprise came at a small local restaurant where the Greeks served what they called “Chicken Soup.” Being from the South, I thought I knew chicken and rice — until the rich egg-and-lemon sauce transformed it into something unforgettable.

In Akrotiri, often called the “Minoan Pompeii,” we stepped back into the 15th century BC, walking among preserved pottery, wooden bed frames, and ancient structures frozen beneath volcanic ash. Later, we enjoyed traditional Greek salads and wine at a local winery before wandering through Fira, laughing as the powerful winds nearly pushed several of us straight down the streets.

There were so many moments woven between the famous landmarks: gelato shared between new friends, fields of red poppies along the roadsides, quiet shopping excursions, and evenings filled with stories and laughter.

At Hotel Famissi Eden, the small chapel offered travelers a quiet place for reflection. Later, Father Pefkis’ gallery in Trikala–Kalambaka introduced us to the fading art of biblical iconography. At the same time, the Holy Monastery of Varlaam challenged many in our group with its 177 steep steps. Yet one by one, determined travelers made the climb.

Historically, monks sought these mountaintops to escape the distractions of the world and draw closer to God. Standing there, it was easy to understand why.

Traveling along the ancient Via Egnatia — the Roman road that carried the Gospel into Greece — carried spiritual meaning all its own. Standing where Paul first set foot on European soil, visiting the prison where he was held, and standing beside the river where Lydia became the first Christian baptized in Europe made the scriptures I have read since childhood suddenly feel alive.

But as incredible as the destinations were, the people remain what I carry most deeply home with me.

One lovely lady on our journey had recently learned she had cancer. She had scheduled this trip two years earlier and was determined to walk this path no matter what. Another doctor in our group gently cared for my husband when he became ill during the final days of the trip.

One gentleman repeatedly said before the trip, “I want to go, but I’m afraid I’ll fall.” Yet he made it — every step.

Several widowers traveled with us. A few adventurous explorers came alone. Every person carried a story. Different backgrounds. Different journeys. Different reasons for saying yes to this adventure.

And somehow, through Greece, faith, history, cold winds, steep climbs, olive oil, laughter, and shared meals, strangers became friends.

As we all safely returned home, I realized once again that Beyond the Porchlight has never really been about the destination.

It’s always been about the people we become—and the friendships we find—once we step beyond the familiar and trust the journey ahead.

Until the next Beyond the Porchlight adventure.

Beyond the Porchlight: A Christmas Journey

 

Forty incredible ladies set out on a festive adventure to Atlanta, ready to embrace the Christmas spirit together. Our first stop was Ponce City Market for lunch and a little shopping. The building’s history is fascinating: once the site of the Ponce de Leon amusement park, it later became a massive Sears distribution center, and today, it’s a vibrant hub of shops, restaurants, and community life.

Next, we visited the iconic Mary Mac’s Tea Room, a Southern institution since 1945, serving up classic comfort food with a side of history. I listened as the ladies, of varying ages, shared laughs,  stories, and genuine connections. Giggles could be heard as we loaded the bus, while those passing us on the street wanted to join the fun. Afterward, we checked into our hotel just across from the Fox Theatre, preparing for the highlight of the trip: the Christmas Together Tour with Amy Grant, CeCe Winans, and Michael W. Smith.

The concert did not disappoint; it was magical. Amy Grant hula-hooped while singing Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree, bringing smiles all around. When CeCe Winans sang The Goodness of God, her open arms seemed to fill the theater with the presence of Jesus. Later, our group witnessed the theater stand still as the famous trio led us all in Silent Night, and flashlights glowing across the Fox created a moment that words can’t capture.

Before heading home, we enjoyed a little more shopping, but the real stories came from the women themselves. Some were battling serious health challenges, while others were facing quiet homes awaiting their return. The most moving moment came on the bus ride home, when our driver played "The Goodness of God" after a brief
 devotion. Voices rose in harmony, tears fell, and hearts were full—reminding everyone why this journey is truly called Beyond the Porchlight.

This trip was about more than music or sightseeing—it was about fellowship, hope, and the joy of coming together during the holiday season.

Merry Christmas,

Beyond the Porchlight: The Islands of New England By Lorenda Smith

 A Journey Beyond the Scenery

Our latest Beyond the Porchlight adventure took us to the breathtaking Islands of New England—a place where history, faith, and the salt air seem to mingle together. From the cobblestone charm of Nantucket to the sweeping views along Cape Cod, every stop held beauty. But, as always, it was the people who made it unforgettable.

Several of our travelers had never visited this part of the country. One precious lady came with her niece and a close friend—it was their first time traveling with me. A few days after we returned, they stopped by my office with a lovely gift bag and a handwritten card. Inside, their words glowed with gratitude and joy:

“This trip was a blessing. We can’t stop talking about the memories we made.”

Moments like that remind me that what we do is so much more than travel—it’s connection, it’s community, and it’s shared joy.

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The Spirit of Discovery

Among our travelers was a single lady, almost 80, whose zest for life inspired us all. A seasoned explorer, she had seen much of the world, yet New England was new to her. I watched as she spoke with locals—not just polite conversation, but real, heartfelt curiosity. She asked questions with childlike wonder, listened with kindness, and found beauty in the smallest details.

Our local guide, born and raised on Cape Cod, became a wonderful storyteller for our group. She knew the people, the seasons, the history—and even how to navigate an unexpected Nor’easter with grace and humor! It’s guides like her who make a trip come alive.

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The Lobster Dinner & a Sunset to Remember

One of the highlights of our journey was the much-anticipated New England lobster dinner—a true taste of the coast. As plates were set and each traveler donned their lobster bib with laughter and pride, it was impossible not to smile. Cameras flashed, laughter echoed, and the room was filled with that easy joy that comes when everyone feels part of something special.

Outside, the evening sky painted a masterpiece. The sun sank slowly over the water, filling the horizon with shades of gold, pink, and soft violet. It was, without question, one of the most beautiful sunsets many of us had ever seen—a perfect backdrop to a night we’ll never forget.

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From Strangers to Friends

By the end of the journey, best friends, couples, family members, and first-time travelers had become one big family. We laughed, learned, prayed, and shared meals together. The sound of the ocean seemed to echo what we were all feeling—peace, joy, and gratitude.

The landscapes were stunning, yes. But what made this trip truly special were the people—their stories, their laughter, their willingness to step beyond the porchlight and into something new.

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A Lasting Light

As I reflect on our time in New England, I’m reminded again why these journeys matter. It’s not just the destinations we reach—it’s the hearts we touch and the friendships we form along the way.

Here’s to traveling with wonder, to finding beauty in the unexpected, and to always stepping Beyond the Porchlight. 🌅

Beyond the Porchlight: Hawaii Through Their Eyes

 

As I flipped on the porchlight and stepped into the early morning darkness, I felt this journey was going to be something special. One by one, our travelers gathered to head to the airport — sleepy, but smiling — porchlights glowing behind them at home as we all set off for Hawaii. Even in the quiet hours before sunrise, there was a sound of sweet fellowship.

Our first tour was Pearl Harbor. The mood shifted as our group walked across the memorial, silence settling over the waters. For our veterans, this was not just a historic site — it was personal. One, a decorated Vietnam veteran, carried the memories of his unit with him as he stood there. Another, who had once been stationed in Hawaii on the USS Enterprise and was on PT when the ship exploded, was returning to the islands for the first time since. Knowing these men, I was struck by the weight of history, memory, and resilience. I felt only admiration and appreciation. That evening, fireworks sparkled over the infinity pool at the Prince Waikiki — a brilliant reminder of joy and celebration after a day of reverence. The pool itself brought smiles as some giggled at the lack of clothing and maybe thoughts of younger years.

The following day, we visited the ‘Iolani Palace, where the stories of the Hawaiian monarchy unfolded. Our group gained a new appreciation for the depth of Hawaiian culture. I laughed as I watched senior adults — who’ve seen so much of the world already — grin ear to ear as we stopped for colorful Waiola Shave Ice, proving that delight has no age limit.

From there, we hopped to the Big Island, where Rainbow Falls greeted us and we all sank our toes into the black sand for the first time. On that same beach, one traveler paused to watch a local weaving Lauhala baskets beneath a sign that read: “You buy the land, you get the people — land & people are one.” As she shared that with me, I carried that sentiment for the rest of the trip.

Lunch in Hilo was a treat — my bowl of rice noodle vegetable soup at Tina’s Garden Café might have been one of the best I’ve ever had. Then on to Kailua-Kona, where we made fresh leis, each flower threaded with care. Later that night, we wore those leis to a traditional Polynesian luau — a celebration that wrapped us all in the heartbeat of Hawaiian culture.

Morning brought the scent of fresh-brewed Kona coffee at Bayview Farm. Every bean is still picked by hand, every sip is richer because of the tradition behind it. Even those who “don’t drink coffee” couldn’t resist. Dinner at Lava Java was the perfect ending to the day, paired with a sunset so spectacular that no one dared put their cameras down until the sky gave its final glow.

Then came Maui, the Valley Isle. Driving through Lahaina was sobering — a reminder of heartbreak and the unshakable spirit of its people. But the highlight awaited: the Road to Hana. With our local guides, Travis and Uncle Joe, weaving stories of heritage and humor, the road became more than a drive — it became a journey through heart and history.

And then came the waterfalls. Our travelers, from their 40s to 80s, let their voices ring out — singing “Waterfall!” each time one appeared. At Waimoku Falls, they didn’t just admire the view — they plunged into the icy water beneath it. In that moment, age melted away. There were no decades, only dreams being checked off bucket lists. Warm banana bread from Aunty Sandy’s fueled the adventure, and laughter flowed as freely as the water itself. If you’ve never seen seasoned adults fly down waterslides or leap into waterfall pools, including myself, you’re missing one of life’s greatest joys.

As the trip wound down, we shared meals, breathtaking sunsets, and stories that stitched us closer together. A few even donned henna tattoos, sending pictures home that made many question and wonder - who?

Travel is about the places, the food, the sights — but it’s most powerful when seen through the eyes of those who walk beside you, those you trust, and those who see you- the real you.

And so, porchlights once again are turned off as we return home — filled with memories, friendships, and the promise of the next Beyond the Porchlight adventure.

 Spain: A Journey of Beauty, Bonding, and Beyond

There’s something remarkable about stepping beyond your front door, boarding a plane, and finding yourself halfway across the world with people who begin as acquaintances and end as dear friends. That’s the heart of Beyond the Porchlight—not just the places we go, but the people who go with us.

My recent journey through Spain was more than sightseeing. It was a soul-filling adventure steeped in color, culture, and connection.

We began along the sun-drenched Costa del Sol, where our home base in Fuengirola welcomed us with stunning balcony views of the Alboran Sea. Mornings started with spectacular sunrises, and evenings ended with laughter on a moonlit beach where a few took a peaceful night cruise. Málaga offered us history and art—from the ancient Alcazaba to Picasso’s genius. We even found ourselves in the homes of gracious locals for lunch. The husband spent his typical work week in Madrid working in IT. However, he found himself at home due to the 2025 Iberian Peninsula blackout.  The beautiful home nestled by the sea, with the large windows open, offered refreshing cool air in the sunroom while enjoying home-cooked Spanish dishes. The lack of power didn't stop the conversation or the lovely prepared meal cooked on gas stoves. Without screens, we found ourselves more present, sharing stories and laughter.  The evening took us to Fuengirola for dinner at the Bar La Plaza. We didn't know what to expect with the electricity still out. However, we were all mesmerized by the service and welcome greeting; they seemed genuinely glad we were there. A few observed the local chefs cooking on gas grills with flashlights. I enjoyed a "Revuelto", a Spanish dish of scrambled eggs mixed with prawns, ham, mushrooms, and spinach. A dish I had never tasted, though I'm not sure why. It seemed simple, yet my palate felt like it had devoured a 5-star meal. We casually walked back to the hotel, unconcerned about the lack of power, simply living in the moment!

We crossed the awe-inspiring Puente Nuevo in Ronda and savored a wine and cheese pairing. Setenil de las Bodegas charmed us with its cliff-hugging whitewashed homes, and a flamenco show in Málaga brought passion and rhythm to life.

Marbella and Mijas swept us off our feet—literally—with a lively flamenco dance class, followed by seaside tapas and panoramic views from La Alcazaba de Mijas. We danced, we ate, we explored... and we bonded.

Granada was a highlight in every sense—the majestic Alhambra stole our breath, its architecture and gardens whispered tales of centuries past, and the snowy Sierra Nevadas stood sentinel in the distance.

From the coast, we boarded a high-speed train bound for Madrid. We navigated bustling streets and even busier metro lines, finding joy (and a few giggles) in every unexpected turn. Segovia gave us the fairytale ending we didn’t know we needed—ancient aqueducts, castle spires, cobblestone charm, and sunshine that wrapped us in warmth as we slowly said our goodbyes. But not before a lovely dinner at Los Galayos, where the meal seemed to go on for hours. Not because of slow service but because of continued tapas, savory delicacies, and spirits.

But the most beautiful part of Spain? The people I traveled with. They were kind, adventurous, and full of grace and humor. We may have come for the destination, but left with something even greater—deepened friendships, shared memories, and hearts that feel forever changed.

As I sit back home, porchlight turned off, I’m reminded that the real journey isn’t just across oceans. It’s into the hearts of those we walk beside, one unforgettable adventure at a time.

Hasta luego, Spain. You were a dream.