Bridges

I have a thing about old barns and front doors. Old barns hold much history. I enjoy thinking  about the people who owned and worked out of old barns.

I can hear the conversations between old farmers about the weather and the wayward ways of the youth. I can see the animals that were housed within and the hay bales that are stored in the loft. I inhale the sweet smell of corn and oats stored in bins and watch the children take turns swinging from a rope down from the loft to mounds of straw below.

Brightly colored front doors, unique doors, and ancient doors all have stories of their own. Or, at least, I’d like to imagine they do.

But lately, and especially during my visit with my friend, Michele, these past couple of days, I’ve been thinking about bridges. 

Sometimes distances need to be brought a bit closer. Whether it’s from one shore to another or one person to another. Bridges close gaps. They allow for easier travel over difficult passes. 

Bridges can be as unique as old barns and front doors. I prefer to see covered bridges, like where I live, or a stony bridge over a bubbling brook instead of an overpass on an interstate made of concrete and cold steel. 

Bridges can also bring people closer together. These particular bridges aren’t made concrete or stone. They are built by the heart and often sealed with tears. 

Sometimes, many times, we don’t even realize a bridge is being built until one day we see how a situation finally makes sense. When we step back we can see how the hand of God engineered the construction of the bridge between people. But even though God has the power to create a bridge on his own, He doesn’t. It takes the willingness of one to let go, and for another to accept, in order to complete a bridge. Building bridges between people is a matter of the heart so God doesn’t force His will on anyone. 

When my friend, Matt, was dying he asked me to care for his greatest treasures…his son, daughter-in-law, and little grandson. I promised him I would. I didn’t know all the ins-and-outs of what that promise meant. I didn’t even know these people until we visited in the hospital. I didn’t know if the commitment would be for a lifetime or short-term. I had no idea about anything…yet, I questioned nothing. I simply knew I would do my best to fulfill his wishes. And to the best of my knowledge and ability, I did. 

What is so fascinating now as I look back is that I clearly see how a bridge was being built over those weeks and months. A bridge that was not made with hands, but one built on love and trust. 

Michele is Matt’s sister. For whatever reason(s), they were not close in this life and a wall was built between the two. It is something I do not understand, but neither is it my business. It is not mine to own or to comprehend as I love(d) them both. I am sympathetic towards Michele, though, for her questions of why that still remain with her today.

Regardless, of the wall though, God had a plan. 

I love Matt’s son and family. They are beautiful people and they blessed my life in numerous ways. But realistically I could only help so much. Distance was an issue as I was three and a half hours away from them. At the time, I was seriously considering moving there, but now that I reflect upon it, it truly wasn’t what Matt would have wanted me to do. He knew how important my kids were to me and how I needed to be in close proximity to them, just as he was to his son and family. It wasn’t what God desired either. God knows that family is the best answer for family…as long as there is a willingness to love and open up to each other. Reality was that I was going to have to let go at some point. And gradually as Michele became a presence…trusting, loving, and communicating…she began creating a new bond with her nephew and his family. Just the way it should be.

As the bridge was discreetly being built, the wall was crumbling down. 

So a bridge was built, and a torch was passed from me to Michele. We carry the same love and desires for the ones Matt loved so dearly. And I believe that Matt would now embrace Michele for caring for his loved ones so deeply. This was an unexpected turn of event, but a welcomed one. And in my heart, I knew this was how it was supposed to be.

The bridge is still bittersweet to me. The sadness of the end of something I was blessed and entrusted with, but joyful in being able to witness the beauty of a renewed family relationships. 

During her visit, Michele jokingly asked when would I write a story about her. She left this morning so I thought I would write this post for her today.

Michele, the bridge could not have been completed if you weren’t willing to open your heart. You did not hesitate to answer this calling. And you are loved for this.

When you think about it, three bridges have been built. One was in the passing of my promise (to Matt) from me to you. The second was in you establishing a loving trust with Matt’s family. And the third bridge was constructed over a crumbled, brick wall. This is the most special bridge of the three as it was built solely for you and Matt. I hope you find your peace with this one. 

I am grateful for these bridges in life even when they are difficult and sad at times. Built with a loving heart and designed by the hands of God, beauty radiates on the opposite shore. 

♥️

Andi