In which Rich finally makes it to the bridge!
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The next morning Becky and I sat in bright sunshine at the base of the same single-lane bridge, which now seemed less foreboding. I set off to finally if Old Chain of Rocks Bridge was worthy of the effort and anticipation.
Chouteau Island turned out to be a redevelopment area. The previous night’s scary wilderness was a forest of construction projects.
Eventually I discovered the entrance to an impossibly narrow bridge. This thin ribbon of pavement, now open only to cycles and pedestrians, once constituted a portion of legendary Route 66, a major thoroughfare across the U.S.
Old Chain of Rocks Bridge is STEEP! (I worked hard to crank up an incline designed to allow sufficient clearance for river traffic), nearly a mile long, and features an unusual twenty-two-degree bend partway across.
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At the apex, I stopped and thought about what I’d noticed about the river as I traveled with it.
When you cross the river at highway speeds, it’s there one moment and gone the next. But travel along its length on a bike and you notice small stuff, subtle changes. The river has a life of its own, and you can only perceive its nature by being with it for a while. Drive-by encounters won’t do.
I think dreams look like that. Maybe the idea that seems crazy from the freeway makes more sense when you travel with it awhile. Maybe we should be slower to judge the worthiness of a dream when we cross it the first time.
The drive-by view explains partly why God-sized dreams shock people and make them nervous. Often those closest to you won’t understand, at least initially, because they haven’t lived with the dream like you have.
It’s okay. Dreams aren’t about what other people think.
God-sized dreams are about what God thinks.
To be continued…
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I’m excited to ride my bike this Saturday with a bunch of other people.
Thank you to everyone who has already generously supported our kids.
And here’s my invitation to join us in making sure all of our 22 kids remain free.
300 words a day 