Bridges of Wood

So obviously, I can't get the bridge lesson off of my mind, hence post number two about bridges. Bear with me, though, God is teaching me some important things ... and maybe He's got a lesson for someone else who is traversing a bridge or two of their own. All I know is that last night out on the trail, God used a couple of wooden bridges to get my attention yet again. He knows me pretty well, I suppose, because He often recognizes that I need to be presented with what He wants me to learn more than once and in more than one setting. And then there are times when He knows that He needs to hit me over the head with the lesson ... like with bridges and bridges and more bridges.

There are two wooden bridges Ollie and I walk across each night as we make our way along the walking trail ... we walk across them on our way down the trail and on our way back home. That means we cross the bridges four times each evening. Remember yesterday's post when I said I don't like to walk or drive across bridges? These two bridges creak a bit when we walk on them, not bad, but they creak nonetheless, and it always creeps me out. It didn't take long after little Ollie became my walking buddy for me to notice something about him when we walked on the wooden bridges ... he absolutely loves them. Part of his obvious affection for the bridges is that he takes great delight in peeing on the metal posts on both ends of the bridges, and he is sure to pee on those posts every single time we walk. Of course, as I've mentioned before, Ollie is a pee-er, though ... he stops and hikes his leg and pees on just about every tree or rock or bush we pass. And yet again ... I digress ... back to my little hound's love of the wooden bridges.

Early on, Ollie would pee on the post when we came to the bridge, and then he would take off running across the bridge until he reached the end of his leash and it stopped him. I would walk at my normal pace behind him, and when the leash stopped him, he would turn around and look at me and wait for me to get closer and then he would run again until he reached the post at the other end of the bridge where he would stop and ... well, you know. Several weeks ago, something came over me when Ollie started to scamper across the planks of wood beneath his little paws, and I ran after him shouting, "Let's race, buddy ... come on, let's race!" Ollie took off in front of me and then he stopped and ran back toward me and then turned and ran ahead of me again. It made me smile to see my little hound running back and forth, so my spur-of-the-moment race challenge to him quickly became a nightly thing. Now, when we come to the bridges, Ollie pees and then he looks at me with his tail wagging like crazy waiting for me to race with him. And we've incorporated something new recently ... we start and stop and he runs back toward me and we start and stop and he barks nonstop as he plays with me on the bridges. 

It was really nice out last night, so Ollie and I walked a little longer than we normally do, sort of sauntering along, taking our time and enjoying the hint of fall in the air. By the time we approached the first bridge on our way back home, the light was fading and I picked up my pace a bit so that we could get home before it was completely dark outside. Rounding the curve in the trail that meant we were close to the bridge, I thought ... No chasing this time because it's getting dark. Ollie won't notice in the dark that we're at the bridge; he'll just walk and not want to play our game. Wrong. The minute he saw the bridge, he ran ahead of me and did his business and stood with his tail wagging in anticipation of our now routine time of play. I tugged on his leash and said, "Come on, buddy, it's too late. We'll play chase tomorrow night." Wrong again. My little wiener dog stood with his feet firmly planted at the end of the bridge refusing to move. I couldn't help but smile at him as I turned and walked back to where he stood and shouted, "OK, little dude ... let's race!" And with that, Ollie took off barking and stopping and running back toward me and barking and running some more, and the scene was repeated again when we reached the next bridge ... in the dark, by the way.

So here's the thing, the truth that God showed me as Ollie and I made our way home last night ... bridges in life aren't necessarily worthy of my fear; in fact, they may bring me great joy in the end if I allow myself to be open and willing to step out in faith. The pain of losing my little wiener dog J.R. made me more open to giving Ollie the wiener dog a chance with me and Julie. Ollie is playful and funny and makes me smile ... and he has a pink nose. I still miss J.R. every single day, but I know that Ollie is good for me and he's like medicine for my old girl Julie. If I hadn't walked across the bridge of J.R., I would have never had reason to meet Ollie ... and had I never met Ollie, I would have missed out on some pretty fun and special moments.

So here's to bridge crossing and running and playing and barking and laughing ... here's to a God Who knows the path He has laid out for me ... here's to walking with Him every step of the way.