Saturday, September 3, 2011

Love can build a bridge

This morning as I passed through my living room, it was wall to wall boys, everyone seeming to sleep where they fell.  It's been like that a million Saturday mornings around here over the years...everyone crashing at our house after a football game or a big dance.  But never before has it been because we were up late getting ready for my son's wedding day.


Said son had apparently earned the right to sleep on the couch last night rather than the floor.  As I tiptoed by him, it hit me...this may be the last morning we ever wake up under the same roof.  


Oh, I'm sure he'll be around a lot.  It doesn't hurt that her parents live literally two blocks away.  But the possibility that he'll never again lay his head down in this house at night or open his eyes here in the morning is very real.  


If they were moving far away, perhaps the opportunity to have them spend extended time with us...whole weekends, entire holidays, summer vacations...would be more likely to present itself.  But since 'home' will be just a stone's throw away, we may discover we actually see them less rather than more.  


There's something about knowing you can get to a person any time you want in theory that often makes you get to them less in reality.  I have a best friend who lives just one street over.  I enjoy every moment she and I spend together.  I'm always amazed how many hours we can still burn on the phone.  But the truth is, we don't actually connect with each other very often.  Even my parents, the most incredible parents in the world may I add, who's house I drive by at least two or four times a day, do I rarely just stop in to visit.  When I do, I stay for hours on end.  I relish my time with them, but honestly, it doesn't happen as often as it should. 


The truth of the matter is two people can live in the same house and still not get to each other.  We get busy or distracted or disgruntled and the distance between our hearts can grow quite substantial even while we're sharing the same dinner table.  We figure we'll bridge the gap eventually, but before we know it, the bridge is burning behind us.


We take it for granted when someone is nearby that they'll always be nearby, that we'll always be able to reach out and touch them whenever we'd like.  We think there will always be time.  There will always be another chance.  But sometimes, there isn't.


So today and from now on, my husband and I will be steadily laying rungs of a bridge we pray will give our son and his wife a clear path to us.  And I hope they will be laying their own rungs from their end of it, so the distance between us...both literally and figuratively...will always be small.