This morning — after a string of beautiful spring-like days — we woke up to both rain and some troubling family news. I started thinking about easily we often stroll through life, following that winding trail and feeling like it must go on forever as it is — and then suddenly, a bridge appears before us, and it changes everything. This bridge, we are uncomfortably aware, marks the end of the trail and a transition to something entirely different. Of course, we knew we had been walking beside a stream for quite awhile, but somehow that bridge still manages to startle us. as we had let ourselves be happily distracted by the beauty around us, or worse, had taken it all for granted and not even seen the wonders on every side of the path.

I don’t want to cross the bridge; I want to linger on this beautiful path that I’m only now starting to fully appreciate. But my time is limited, and the only way possible is forward. In fact, the bridge is part of the trail I’ve been on. It was always there, always going to be there. I’ll walk across this bridge because I must. But as I cross it, I will pause and take one long, last look back.