I find myself considering of late what it might be like to be a bridge. Have you ever considered the life of a bridge? Most likely you have not and if so, then the bridges you have known of or used have served their purpose. The greatest achievement a bridge could hope for after all, is to be so well trusted and often used that their existence becomes merely an expected extension of the surrounding landscape and therefore no more awe inspiring than the very ground underfoot. Bridges are created to serve the purpose of allowing people to cross what would otherwise be impassable or who's passage would come at great cost. Whether the bridge is made of humble rock and wood or hewn from fine stone or steel intended to stand as a monument to the civilization who constructed it, all bridges serve the same basic purpose of allowing individuals to travel to a location that was otherwise difficult or impossible to reach. What then is so special about a bridge that would make me consider how it might feel? Absolutely nothing...unless you happen to be some of the select few who first wondered at it's ability to safely carry you from the impossible wish into the hoped for reality.
Imagine for a moment with me that it's 7BCE, you're a farmer in the Roman Empire. For generations your family has had to make the arduous yearly journey from your village to the markets of Rome itself. Your family's survival depends on this yearly trip to sell grain to the government of Rome. It's a slow progression that can take several weeks due to the bypass you have to make around one particular canyon carved out of the volcanic rock of the region. Last year Caesar unveiled a stone bridge over the area. You remember seeing it towering above your caravan as you passed by on your last journey, its arches suspended high above your head were like delicate spiderwebs in the rafters of your home. 'Look at those fools up there!', your father had ranted, 'They think they can defy the gods and not be punished? They will see their folly soon enough when they have crashed to the rocks we safely walk on. Better to take the time to walk on solid ground than trust yourself to the vanity of man.' But it had been a year now and the bridge stood strong, even with the Roman legions passing north toward the Rhine. The line of soldiers and equipment was so great it had taken the entire day to cross, but the stones stood strong beneath them as immobile as the cliff sides it clung to. This year the trip would be made more simple, the journey be made shorter by several days. This year you would cross using the bridge. Can you put yourself there? Can you feel the initial trepidation then amazement and wonder of such a structure and what it means?
Compare that sensation to what you feel today when you cross a bridge. Perhaps you have been on an especially beautiful masterpiece of structural engineering and wondered at it's artistry or at the skill of it's builders, but have you ever wondered at the marvel of what that bridge truly meant to you on a personal level? Have you considered in amazement that the simple act of the Brooklyn Bridge existing and reliably standing over decades has allowed for the growth and development of the metropolis that is collectively known as New York City? Have you ever stood in the middle of a bridge and considered that without it's existence you may never see or know what stands on the opposite side? And that even if you did, your interaction with what is on that opposite side would be significantly less than is allowed by the existence of that single structure. Would the San Francisco Bay Area be what it is without the Golden Gate Bridge? Have you ever looked at a bridge and thought, 'Because you are here I can go there.'? I am guessing you haven't and if you are the individual that has, it probably is a singular or rare thought stored deep in the recesses of your mind. And that is a good thing. It means most of the bridges we have experienced have been structurally sound and not caused us to question their stability or their ability to safely allow us to cross. Bridges that do their jobs are doomed to be passed over without a second thought by the vast majority of those who use them.
When I entered the Police Academy I had never before fired anything beyond a small bb gun once as a child. I grew up among farmers and scholars, we didn't hunt or even target practice, my experience with weapons was next to nothing. As we began the section of training on firearms I was pleasantly surprised to find I was a good shot. I did swimmingly well in all of the exercises and found myself having little sympathy for my fellow classmates should they struggle at all. I would think, 'I've never done this before in my life and I'm doing well, how hard can it be?!'. Then we had our first qualification shoots and quickly I found myself with my foot in my mouth. My scores plummeted into the dirt faster than well...at least as fast as a speeding bullet. I was completely dismayed and beside myself with stress. What was wrong?! The harder I tried to focus and do what I knew I could do, the lower my score seemed to be. Thankfully our instructors must have reached out to the firearms team at my department because I received a phone call from one of the firearms instructors. He told me he knew I was having a rough time and our final tests were coming up. To not pass these tests meant to lose my job and not become an officer. He set up a time to meet with me at the range and work with me. He coordinated time on his day off to meet with me and spent several hours on the range giving me individual instruction. He taught me different techniques to use during the test to keep myself calm and focused but most importantly he told me that good shooters having anxiety with the qualification was normal and his job as an instructor was to do everything in his power to give me the tools I needed to overcome my own anxiety and do the job he was confident I had the ability to do. He reassured me that he was with me and supporting me and would work with me as much as needed for me to feel confident. Step by step, through and past every fear lingering inside my psyche...he was my bridge. When the final test came, I was ready for it and passed without a problem. Because someone was willing to take their own time, skills and energy and lay it down over the vast canyon of my fears and concerns allowing me to safely cross over them. I am here in my job that I love today because he was willing to be there for me when I needed help crossing over from who I was into who I have become.
None of us gets anywhere in this life without the love and support of someone who was willing to be our strength in times of trial. Perhaps you would have made it without them, but not at the same rate and ability. Your progress would have been slowed as you would have been bogged down in the vast canyons of life. As literal bridges are necessary for the advancement and development of nations, so figurative bridges are necessary for our own growth. An internal landscape devoid of them is one that denotes a long and arduous journey.
In the battle of Passchendaele during WW1 the amount of shelling combined with a steady rain turned the battlefield into a quagmire of mud and craters so thick and deep that men began to be trapped and pulled into the mire as if in quicksand. If other soldiers attempted to pull them free they would soon slip into the muck and be lost as well. The problem became so prevalent that any ground gained was impassable and small bridges of wood known as 'duck walks' were constructed to allow soldiers to walk above ground without risk of disappearing into the landscape. Some bridges ease a journey, some bridges allow you to safely cross over certain death.
There is one such bridge, laid down as the gift of eternal life over death. Its construction is humble and to cross it requires great faith in the face of every fear, but its foundation is sure.
I am so thankful for those who have been willing to be a bridge for me and hope with all of my heart and soul to be a bridge for others who may need one.
