A new year has arrived, a good time to examine the past, assess the present, and look to the future. In this post, written a few years ago by guest blogger Scott Newport, he looked into the future which has now come to pass. Reading it gave me a new perspective on life and death. Maybe it will for you, too.

The Bridge:
A Life and Death Metaphor

Today, as I was managing life, I stumbled over an unexpected confrontation on my road finding myself on the cold hard ground. My face took most of the impact; the rest of my body seemed unaffected.

The Obstacle

The place I was traveling through was not unfamiliar, it was just I had never seen that obstacle before. I guess I never looked or paid much attention because I usually keep my head up and eyes straight away, kinda on a mission. On this particular day as I traveled I had my head down, not concentrating on my every step, something else was on my mind.

After falling, I wondered if I should call the doctor. I even looked around to see if anybody had seen me falter. There were others around but I don’t think they even noticed. You know, everybody is so busy. Passing by, they probably thought I was bent over to tie my shoe or maybe was just taking a break. All I needed was a hand willing to help me get back up.

Shook up, scared and not wanting for this to happen again I wondered how I fell. I wanted to make sure it wouldn’t happen again especially if I was at the edge of my road where the bottom is a black hole.

The Bridge Between Life and Death

I guess I should back up a bit and explain to you that this story started the day I began my journey across a bridge. I had been on other bridges on my road before and have always been a little afraid to look directly over the rail. My fear is not the height but what may be lurking under the bridge. A place I don’t want to be.

The bridge I am on now is long and you can’t see the other side. I know it’s there, it’s just so far away, I think.

Some days the bridge is a great place to be. On those days the sky is clear, the wind is my friend and the path is dry. Some mornings, as I stroll along the bridge alone, I can see the sun rise on one side, on the other a giant white moon setting into the resting place. On those mornings every moment, every breath seems so clear.

Then there are those days it is dreary on the bridge. The path is usually wet and slippery. On those days your head is down, watching every step. Your mind is so consumed by the path nothing at all seems clear, especially the path itself.

The Journey

The other day when I was walking on the bridge I took a serious notice of the other people on the cement with me. I always figured they were going to the same place as me.  We seem to be going in the same direction. But I am not sure. Most people wear shoes but there are very few who wear hats. I wear a hat, but on the day I stumbled it fell off and it didn’t take long to dust it off and put it back on.

Maybe one of these days I will ask them if they are going to same place as me.  Actually I did ask once but the person didn’t want to talk about it. I have overheard others talking but their conversation is never about the other side it is only about the weather.

I bet if I could see the other side I could scream to someone on the shore and I could yell, “What it is like over there?” I know it’s not like the place we left……

Something funny just hit me. I have never, never seen anybody going the opposite direction. This definitely must be a one way bridge.

Before I go any further, let me paint you a picture of the bridge. First of all it’s very long and is something you might see between two foreign lands. There is absolutely beautiful blue water below and a great open sky above that looks like it could scoop you up at any time. The aroma in the air is sweet but at times the sweetness turns sorrow. The bridge is like a rainbow as it reaches to the sky and curves back down on the other side. Mind you I am not sure if this is the case because I am still on the upward portion of the bridge, I can only imagine. I can’t see the other side. For now every day is an up hill climb.

The Toll Booth

There are toll booths on the bridge. Each toll booth is unattended and displays a sign that reads, “You may pay now or pay later”. Attached to the side of the booth is a metal box with a slot for change. It is made out of cold stainless steel, the bottom lined with velvet. I guess the velvet is there so when you drop in your coins it softens the noise. I have been paying as I go along; I think it is easier that way. Others seem to be waiting till they get to the other side to pay the toll. There are no set rules on the bridge.

One day on the bridge there was a lot of commotion and talking. I overheard people comment someone had reached the other side. Most of the crowd was crying and just a few had a peace about them. A few hats came off that day. I wish we got together to talk more often but that’s not the way it works on the bridge.

The Dream

One day on the bridge as I was taking a nap I had a dream. The dream put me at the summit of my journey. As I tipped over the top of the bridge I could see a grey haired elderly man in a small shelter just set on the edge of the bridge. “Ahhhhh ,” I whispered, that must surely be the bridge keeper. I now had a sense that I’d finally found someone on the bridge who knew what was going on.

He reminded me of one of those guys who raises and lowers the bridge when needed. He is like the protector of the bridge.

Anyway as the dream continued a group of children and adults came up behind me. They passed me and headed straight for the bridge keeper. The old guy reached out his hairy arm through a small sliding window and waved some to the left and others to the right.

It was a gorgeous sight as the ones on the right mounted up like eagles and flew gracefully to the other side while the ones on the left continued to walk down the path leading to the other side.

After I awoke from my dream I wasn’t sure what that all meant but I did have a sense of peace knowing there just might be someone on the other side who knows what is going on. And maybe when you reach the top there will be an ol’ guy who will guide you.

Oops, I forgot to tell you my favorite part of the dream. In my dream, one of the children who reached the top was guided to the right. He was a little boy and looked really weak and tired. He was the kinda boy any father would be proud of. When his wings picked him up with the blue sky above and the sun in the background, his curly blond hair glowed like a shiny crown. Before he was out of sight and the shadow of his wings left the bridge he turned his head back for just one last look and he smiled and then winked at me.

The Other Side

The dream gave me a feeling of hopefulness. I think if I am to stumble again, and I probably will, next time I will think of what the other side might be like. I will think of the bridge keeper and especially the smile the boy had. He looked so happy.

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