My daddy built a bridge. It is a strong bridge with many yards of concrete, poured into its large forms; steel; and thick planks of wood treated to last a lifetime. My daddy built a bridge, a bridge to help us get to the other side of a creek that has the potential of raging like a river.
My daddy built a bridge. It was a strong bridge. It took years to build. It was made of faith, hard work, and self-sacrifice. It bridged from an old way of life (that had generations of poverty and addiction) to a new way of life (that centers on God, and education, and dreams).
My daddy has spent his life building bridges, and I am so thankful that he did.
g
Saturday, June 18, 2011
bridges
Posted by g at 3:41 PM
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