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Saturday, June 18, 2011

bridges

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.

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