Superstitions are for the ignorant and irrational, or so I thought, until last Friday.
Last Friday, which happened to be the 13th, gave me my first clue into the paganistic view of folklore phobia and old wives' tales. The unbelievable, coincidental occurrences that happened that day were akin to a landslide of hot lava flowing down the mountain sides of a live volcano while in full eruption.
At 9 o'clock AM I sat in a dental chair for over an hour being fitted for an artificial bridge to eliminate that "snaggle-toothed" look I had after losing two front teeth in an accidental fall. Then, as soon as I got back home from that nerve-wracking experience, the phone rang and my son's teacher informed me that Skip had been hit in the face by a baseball and was at the local hospital.
Dashing back out to the car, I headed for the one and only bridge that would take me across the Ohio River from Ft. Thomas, KY to Cincinnati, OH. Traffic, of course, was wall-to-wall vehicles due to the only 'other' bridge being under construction.
By the time I got to the hospital my new expensive bridge-work was useless, as I had nothing to flash a toothy smile about - as the doctor informed me immediately that: "The bridge of your son's nose is broken and we need your permission to operate."
The 5 o'clock 'Rush Hour' traffic made for a long trip back home over the only bridge in operating condition; but Skip with his nose wrapped in gauze and tape, and I with my beautiful set of artificial teeth and ragged, jangled nerves finally arrived home...only to hear the telephone ringing as we opened the front door.
It was Mother calling, "Honey," she began, " What a day! Amy and I played bridge at the Club and lost every game, so I guess you know we had to pay for everybody's lunch. Can you believe....."
"Mother!" I interrupted, "If I hear that "B" word one more time today, I'm going to scream!"
"What "B" word? What are you talking about?"
"Oh, Mother, I had my bridge-work done today, I was stuck on the Ohio River bridge for hours, and Skip was hit in the face by a baseball that broke the bridge of his nose! THAT's the "B" word!"...then I hung up the phone after a quick apology for my frazzled nerves.
However, the next day I did hear the "B" word being sung by the Church Choir, and I did not scream; instead, tears filled my eyes and peace filled my soul as I listened to the last verse of a familiar old hymn:
"Sail on silver lady,
Sail on by
Your time has come to shine;
If you need a friend
I'm sailing behind
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind,
Oh yes, Like a bridge over troubled water,
I will ease your mind."
"Thank you, Lord," I whispered, "You bridged that chasm between Earth and Heaven long ago, and now, dear Lord....I can lay my troubles down."
Yes, it was on a Friday, a friday which Christians now refer to as 'Good Friday' - when Jesus took all our troubles, sins and burdens to the cross. Yes, it was a cruel, terrible and violent "Friday" for Him...but a wonderful, saving, blessed and forgiving "Friday" for us - the lost and wayward souls of Planet Earth.
So, what is a dental bridge, a traffic laden bridge, a broken bridge bone and a lost bridge game compared to "HIS" Friday, long, long ago - when He saved us by bridging that massive gap between Heaven and earth?
I'm ashamed that I even wrote about my few little incidental troubles last friday. Compared to what He went through on "His" friday...I had a Cinderella day of perfectection personified!
Do I hear a chorus of "Amens?"
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