Bridges

I read a poem the other day written by my friend, Guy, which was inspired by a photo of his grandfather standing beside a Harley-Davidson motorcycle. Guy’s grandfather never took the cross-country trip that he intended on the Harley. His wife deemed the ‘cycle too dangerous, as she’d seen someone killed on one.

It was the poem’s title, “Never Crossed,” and the idea of the adventure not taken that really got to me. I began to let my mind wander and then followed after it to see where it was going. The image that came to my mind was that of a bridge. I find bridges fascinating. There are all kinds of bridges and I’ve crossed a lot of them. I’ve traveled covered bridges (there was one near Statesboro, where I went to college), I’ve walked across footbridges that spanned creeks or ponds and I’ve crossed the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. Each time, I remember looking forward to the view after the crossing.

Bridges exist to help us get from one point to another. Without a bridge, some places would be inaccessible, and all we’d be able to do is stand on the edge of the world and wonder what it would be like to continue our journey and maybe see something we’ve never seen before. A bridge is a passageway to adventure. It’s a way to span a river or ravine and reach the undiscovered country. A bridge encourages us to refuse to quit, to keep going because something brand new and exciting may be just on the other side.

As I find myself getting deeper into this transition stage of my life, the image of a bridge is comfort, challenge and invitation. The comfort comes in realizing that where I am may not have to be where I stay. There is a way forward to another shore, to another road and to another part of my life. Let me tell you, that’s a great comfort! No one wants to believe that this (whatever ‘this’ is for them) is all there is. We’re not stuck on the edge of the chasm or the river. There’s a way forward waiting for us.

It takes some degree of courage to cross the bridge. That’s the challenge part. We just don’t know what’s on the other side. It could be the Emerald City or it could be a dark alley. It might be the same as it is here. There’s no way to tell without making the crossing. Fear of the unknown can keep us standing on the edge. We look longingly to the other side but never move toward it, afraid of what might be waiting for us over there just out of sight.

Then there’s the invitation. If a bridge could talk, it would speak to us both in whispers and in shouts, “Come on across – there’s something here you really need to see!” I can hear it when I’m driving, even with the CD player cranking out Springsteen or The Fabulous Thunderbirds. I can hear the voice of the bridge as it beckons me like a friend welcoming me to a home to which I’ve never been. The music of the bridge is a brand new song with a hauntingly familiar tune. It reaches deep inside and pulls me along to the new land, the new adventure. Do I dare move forward? Wrong question. Do I dare stand still?

Truly, the decision to cross the bridge can be momentous. It can change our perspective on life and the world. We’ll see things from a different place and that will give things new and different meanings. For those of us who are comfortable and snug in our current lives with their routine and predictability, making the crossing is uncomfortable and frightening. Still, there will come a time when each of us will face the reality that our lives cannot remain the same and that only an intentional move toward something new will give us the renewal and fulfillment we so desperately need. Others of us know that the time is now and that the crossing is eminent.

I’m there. The bridge is waiting for me. I really don’t care if it’s a giant Golden Gate-type bridge, or a rustic country bridge or even an Indiana Jones shaky rope bridge. The bridge is whispering and I’m listening. My life is waiting for me on the other side.