Under the Bridge

   Crossing the causeway from Brunswick to the Island the other day, I made a mental note to come back one afternoon and see what might be under the bridges on this road. My thoughts were, of course, on interesting things to photograph, and so, yesterday, we went, turning off the roadway and coming to a dead end right under one of the elevated portions that pass over the tidal rivers that separate the mainland from the Island.

   A view from under the first big bridge.

   What seemed to draw my attention was the underside of the structure, the part that no one sees as they travel back and forth.

   As I stood there listening to the sound of vehicles passing overhead, the clickty-clack sound of their tires running over the joints in the pavement, I wondered what those drivers and passengers were thinking. That was all a mystery, of course, but the one thing that I was pretty sure of was that they were not thinking of a person standing under them, taking pictures.

   How many times had I passed over these same bridges, giving no thought at all about what might lie underneath the road?

   How many times do I go blithely on my own path, giving no thought to anything beyond my own agenda?

   Indeed, I do not even think of what is beneath me as I drive over, those pylons that keep me out of the marsh and the river. They are unseen but vital to my traveling life.

   Unthought of, unseen, but yet so important. How much of life is that way?

   When I think of my blessings, so much of the time I focus on the material items that I can see and touch. How much more blessed am I by God with those that are unseen and unthought of?

   God, please open my eyes and heart to really see.

   Even under the bridges of life....