Sometimes you need to just get up and begin to walk the bridge.
I poured the fourth bowl of cereal and urged the kids to hurry—another day and we were already running late. I rushed back upstairs, and that’s when I saw it. I missed my husband’s call.
I pressed speed dial and he answered. And we talked as I rushed about: packing backpacks, filling PE water bottles, and loading co-op workboxes. And as I worked, he talked … wanting to discuss major decisions. He asked me questions, and he needed details.
And out of necessity, my mind detached for a moment as I gave the kids the I’m-on-the-phone-so-you-better-do-what-I-said look, and desperately motioned with my free hand to hurry them along.
I re-engaged the phone as he was was still talking. And he wanted my input. He wanted to make a decision.
I could feel my face get red and my heart begin to pound.
Now?
Really??
Now is really not a good time.
Doesn’t he realize, I’m late … that I’m trying to get out the door?
And that’s when I lost it. Right. There. My mouth engaged without consulting my mind. And let me just say, it wasn’t pretty. And after that disrespectful comment, the conversation unraveled. With my words, I smashed the moment, and the momentum of the conversation screeched to a halt.
The air hung thick between us before the call ended, and after we hung up, I stared at my phone. My heart sank in regret as I replayed my words. I blew it. Big time. And now a chasm stood between us.
One thing I’ve learned in my years of being married: I can only be responsible for me. Because if I stand on my side of the canyon too long, the bridge begins to weather. And over time it can become impossible to cross over. Oh, how I know about that.
I got the kids settled in their co-op classes, and I walked outside to make the call.
To acknowledge I was wrong.
To just get up and begin to walk the bridge.
Humility is never futile, and forgiving is more for our own heart, than for theirs.
My heart raced as I dialed. And he finally answered. And just as I began to apologize, he announced he couldn’t talk. He was in the middle of a meeting and asked if we could talk later. I swallowed hard and said okay.
So instead, my fingers found the words and I typed them on my phone. And it wasn’t long, I got a message back. His fingers had found his own words—admitting he was wrong too. He had decided to get up and begin to walk the bridge too, right toward me.
A bridges spans the gap. It gives you access to reach each other again.
But you have to get up and walk.
Even if you’re the first one.
And so, when you find yourself on the other side of a canyon across from someone you love…
May you surrender to humility.
May you take responsibility for what is yours, and choose to forgive what is not.
And may you decide to just get up and begin to walk the bridge, one step at a time.
Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.
Colossians 3:12-14 (NIV)
Is there a canyon separating you from someone you love?
Is there wrongdoing you can acknowledge? Forgiveness you can give?
Will you choose today to just get up and begin to walk the bridge?
