It’s rainy and cold this morning, but the grass is turning green here in our valley. Daffodils are blooming along the creek bank and the field down the road has been disked. Soon, seed will be pressed into the furrows and the growing season will begin again. Thank the Lord Indiana winters turn into Indiana springtime, making it worth the wait.
The last Son will be celebrating his transition from high school to Life with a party at our farm later this year, so we are tackling some outdoor projects as the weather warms. This week, a couple of Amish carpenters have been fashioning a bridge out of some wood my husband salvaged and a roof he snagged for $3 at an auction. It will span our creek, a means to hike over to the little cabin we recently placed at the north end of our pond.
I must admit, I was skeptical at first about this bridge project, but looking out the window now at the roof perched below our sugar maple tree, I’m catching my husband’s vision. Soon, the creek bank will come alive with swamp mustard, water cress, wild raspberry bushes and walnut saplings. And this bridge, already weathered, will look as though it’s always been there.
Building bridges that seem to go nowhere — is it worth the time, the effort, the sacrifice? I’ve thought about that as the men hammered outside my kitchen window this week. But looking inward, at the journey God’s placed me on, I wonder if we aren’t all in the business of “building bridges”.
Bridges in friendships — introducing a new friend to a long-treasured friend (“one is silver and the other gold”), I see a bridge fashioned to enrich each life with a new connection.
Bridges for escape — meeting a woman who has left an abusive husband to begin a new life and who will worship with us tomorrow at our church.
Bridges for a Son, taking a new path in life — as he touches base across the 400 miles that separate to say “All is good. Life is good.”
Today, I will walk across this wooden bridge built for us by skilled hands, and I’ll trust it will hold, that it will serve its purpose. The bridges we build in life are meant to do that, too.