As a little girl growing up in the South, I was in awe of the lovely, perfect front porches framed by columns of big houses in comfortable neighborhoods. But it was my grandparents' back porch,extending from their small, wooden frame house in a modest neighborhood, that beckoned me to sit, sing a tune with my Pap-paw, or listen to the stories that the grown ups shared. The back porch is where the real stories were told, without pretense, gossip, or talk of the weather. The back porch is where we learned and grew and laughed (or cried) at our funniest moments, our big mistakes, our family histories, and even the best things that had happened that day. I don't have a back porch on my actual house today, so I decided to build one here. I hope you will join me and my guests as we share stories about anything and everything that makes us human. I've come to realize how much all of our lives are shaped by the stories we tell, and the stories we watch, read, and listen to. What does it look like to share our porches, with people from all walks of life, as we lean in and learn to listen to one another's stories? We might find ourselves inspired, moved, encouraged. We might find ourselves determined to listen and learn more from the people around us, rather than the flashes on our social media walls or the endless, divisive news cycle. So, come sit, pull up a rocking chair, or find a place on the porch swing. Forget about the walls, the feeds, and the flickering screens for few minutes, and join us on the back porch. It might just change us all, one story at a time.