The Bridge

Somewhere between Minneapolis and Kansas City, there is a bridge in the middle of a winding road through the hills. It sits over a small river that, if you follow it all the way to its end, you reach the ocean. If you follow the ocean to its end, you don’t reach anything. You go in circles. I digress. The point is this bridge sits all by itself over a small river.

Occasionally, the tired family that planned a fun “sightseeing” trip will cross the bridge. In the car is a tired dad, a mom who just wants to have an adventure, and children who just want an Internet connection so they can use their iPads.

Once, a photographer who was traveling the US stopped on the bridge. He took a beautiful picture of the hills in the distance, and then was on his way.

Ten years ago, a hippie group was traveling through the hills and decided they wanted to embrace their wandering ancestry, and proceeded to set up camp on the hillside. They parked their Volkswagen vans and unpacked their guitars and sang songs next to a campfire. These hippies could sing but they weren’t very well trained in the fire department. One of the rules of fires is that you never leave it unattended. Well, these hippies broke that rule. A spark escaped and burnt the whole hill down. Gone were the hippies, gone were their lime colored vans. All that remained was a singular guitar pick.

The hill slowly regrew its grass, and the charred remains of the vans became part of the landscape. The weary families continued to cross the bridge. The occasional photographer would come, and like them all, snap a picture of the same spot.

Then, 3 years later, a car drove up and stopped next to the bridge. A man, done with life, walked over to the bridge and looked over. Below him was the drought struck bed of the once magnificent river. As he stood there looking over the bridge, he found himself thinking of how that river was just like him. Once great, and now dead and broken. Once, he had owned the largest crypto company in the world. Now, he was broke and his family had left him. He stared down at the riverbed below and saw his shadow looking over. Suddenly, another shadow appeared next to his, another person looking over the bridge too. Startled, he looked next to him but saw nobody. Looking down again, he saw the shadow shake its head, and seem to point back towards his car. Then, it vanished. The man realized that something incredible happened and went back to his car and drove off.

Up above, the One who made the shadow, who made the hill, who made the fire, watched him drive away into the distance.