832AFC080808
A Bridge
If I could sit on the porch with God, the first thing I would do is thank him for you….
…because you have become a bridge that allows safe passage over difficulties and dangers, a bridge which keeps me on the path toward Home. It is only one of the many reasons why I love you so much.
Bridge Work
Bridges join things together
reaching across differences
in the common ground.
It is difficult to tell if they
reach fro one side to the other, or
reach from the center to the ends, or
reach from the bottom to the top;
but, they do
reach.
In a war, a bridge must be
secured ahead of us and
burned behind us. It must
be defended if it is ours,
destroyed if it is theirs.
A bridge is the weakest link
in most of our roadways.
Bridges are open, vulnerable,
easy to attack, hard to defend.
Even covered bridges are
exposed to what they span.
Bridges must be built, which means
they must be planned.
The best bridges are built by
the best planners and honest workers.
Natural bridges do occur and
are delightful to find and try.
They are usually dangerous
and suitable only for adventures
or travels of the citizens of nature.
Bridges are often perilous,
as we learned at San Luis Rey,
sometimes dangerous. More often,
though, life-sustaining. They may be
huge artworks of iron or stone,
they may be bamboo, or jungle vine.
They are usually utilitarian but
occasionally decorative,
sometimes both, but,
no matter what, they connect us.
A bridge always has at least
two ends and traffic passes
both ways, and by courtesy or design,
important connections in both directions
are made just as expected.
Bridges usually need support across the middle
and strong anchors at the ends.
As they reach across impassible obstacles
they cross a void, span a gap, unite
what nature made separate.
When support is columns or pylons,
the footing must be impervious.
When support is by suspension,
the anchors must be deep and strong.
Bridges are beautiful, even if not
intended to be so. They are easily
taken for granted — ignored for
what they cross or where they go.
We really only notice them
when they’re gone — washed-out,
blown-up, abandoned, decayed,
collapsed into the space they span.
If they’re really important
we try to take care of them,
but we seem to know, somehow,
that bridges can usually be rebuilt,
often better than before.
There are few substitutes for a bridge,
and most of these are unsatisfactory.
Where a bridge can be built,
little else does a better job there.
Commerce usually shuns the place
where a bridge cannot be built
to carry us past certain toil or injury.
What little traffic there may be
changes course in deference to an
indomitable obstruction.
Bridges change relationships.
Two sheer cliffs along a river canyon,
a coldly-separate double jeopardy,
become less threatening
when joined by a well-built bridge.
A previously arduous and hazardous crossing
becomes a treat to the traveler,
a pleasant memory to the visitor,
a changed perspective for the
one who lives the change.
Now, look here: Around this turn.
Once more from the top. Love
is a bridge.
832AFC080808
A Bridge
If I could sit on the porch with God, the first thing I would do is thank him for you….
…because you have become a bridge that allows safe passage over difficulties and dangers, a bridge which keeps me on the path toward Home. It is only one of the many reasons why I love you so much.
Bridge Work
Bridges join things together
reaching across differences
in the common ground.
It is difficult to tell if they
reach fro one side to the other, or
reach from the center to the ends, or
reach from the bottom to the top;
but, they do
reach.
In a war, a bridge must be
secured ahead of us and
burned behind us. It must
be defended if it is ours,
destroyed if it is theirs.
A bridge is the weakest link
in most of our roadways.
Bridges are open, vulnerable,
easy to attack, hard to defend.
Even covered bridges are
exposed to what they span.
Bridges must be built, which means
they must be planned.
The best bridges are built by
the best planners and honest workers.
Natural bridges do occur and
are delightful to find and try.
They are usually dangerous
and suitable only for adventures
or travels of the citizens of nature.
Bridges are often perilous,
as we learned at San Luis Rey,
sometimes dangerous. More often,
though, life-sustaining. They may be
huge artworks of iron or stone,
they may be bamboo, or jungle vine.
They are usually utilitarian but
occasionally decorative,
sometimes both, but,
no matter what, they connect us.
A bridge always has at least
two ends and traffic passes
both ways, and by courtesy or design,
important connections in both directions
are made just as expected.
Bridges usually need support across the middle
and strong anchors at the ends.
As they reach across impassible obstacles
they cross a void, span a gap, unite
what nature made separate.
When support is columns or pylons,
the footing must be impervious.
When support is by suspension,
the anchors must be deep and strong.
Bridges are beautiful, even if not
intended to be so. They are easily
taken for granted — ignored for
what they cross or where they go.
We really only notice them
when they’re gone — washed-out,
blown-up, abandoned, decayed,
collapsed into the space they span.
If they’re really important
we try to take care of them,
but we seem to know, somehow,
that bridges can usually be rebuilt,
often better than before.
There are few substitutes for a bridge,
and most of these are unsatisfactory.
Where a bridge can be built,
little else does a better job there.
Commerce usually shuns the place
where a bridge cannot be built
to carry us past certain toil or injury.
What little traffic there may be
changes course in deference to an
indomitable obstruction.
Bridges change relationships.
Two sheer cliffs along a river canyon,
a coldly-separate double jeopardy,
become less threatening
when joined by a well-built bridge.
A previously arduous and hazardous crossing
becomes a treat to the traveler,
a pleasant memory to the visitor,
a changed perspective for the
one who lives the change.
Now, look here: Around this turn.
Once more from the top. Love
is a bridge.
About Chick Todd
American Roman Catholic reared as a "Baptiterian" in Denver Colorado. Now living on Kauaʻi. USAF Vet. Married for over 50 years. Scripture study has been my passion ever since my first "Bible talk" at age 6 in VBS.
