the Trigger-happy housewife

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Crossing the bridge.

on September 24, 2013

Imagine, if you will, that you are on a journey. You are happy and the earth is wet with dew. Flowers line the street and you simply KNOW where you are going. Everything is beautiful. Along the way you come to a bridge, looks old and worn, but you aren’t worried. It’s short, should be more than a few minutes on the bridge. Not to mention, you know it’s the only way. You don’t know why, but you know it is.

Happily you skip out onto the bridge and then suddenly a police officer appears and starts to yell at you. He is insisting that the bridge is too weak and you must get down, he is swearing there is an alternate route. He is convinced he is right, even though he has no idea who you are or where you are heading. Now you have stopped. You can’t go forward, you are too full of fear. What if you are wrong? What if you fall? Do you really think you know better than a trained officer? At the same time you know in your heart, and in your feet that you are in the right place, going in the right direction. You know there is no other way for you. So now what? Now you freeze, you can’t bring yourself to go backwards off the bridge and at the same time this guy has filled you with his fears and you can’t make yourself take another step. A quick bridge turns into the longest wait of your life.

THAT is where I have been most of my spiritual life. Frozen and full of doubt that wasn’t my own. Recently, though, I found the faith to take the next step and when the bridge didn’t collapse I took another. In the end I crossed as quickly as I should have long ago. With every step MY voice, MY truth, MY relationship with God – not defined by religion or all the things I have done wrong – got stronger, held more weight than some phantom’s doubt. My feet know the way to Him because they were created to seek and praise Him. Remove all the outside interference and they naturally follow Him.


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