I’ll let you in on a little secret. I am terrified of bridges. Not the small bridges that are barely noticeable, but the really high bridges that go on forever. Enormous bridges give me the heebie-jeebies, if you know what I mean. My knees shake less if I take the wheel, stay in the outside lane if possible, and keep my eyes glued to the road.

I do not have to deal with those kinds of bridges on a daily basis as we have many small bridges that I cross as I leave the farm.

The East Coast of the U.S. has creeks and streams running in different directions, and most of those streams need a bridge to cross them.

The bridges in our area are plentiful and come in all shapes and sizes. Whether large or small, they are essential for accessing our farms and our businesses. Our day-to-day survival would be tough if we couldn’t use these bridges. Without them, our employees could not get to work, the milk would not get to the plant, supply and feed deliveries would be interrupted, and the success of our farm would be in jeopardy.

We have two small bridges on the north side and the south side of the farm. Both of them are tiny, and unless the floodwaters are rising and the rain comes down in buckets, most people probably do not even realize there is a stream running underneath. They are so commonplace that we don’t even think about them.

There was only one time in the nearly 40 years that I have been living on this farm that both of the bridges were not crossable because of flooding. Duane rescued a neighbor who was frantically trying to get home without floating down the newly formed river. He brought her back to our place until the waters receded enough for her to cross. It was a little scary for her to have family on the other side, but she was grateful for a safe and dry place to wait it out.

We had a long lane at my childhood farm, and toward the end of that lane there was a small creek and a bridge. I am sure the construction of that bridge was not up to state standards, but it worked for our farm. It had a dip, and when we were in the farm pickup, we would hit the bridge at a particular speed and catch a little air. Not that my brother and I ever did that, I’m just saying that if we wanted to, it was possible.

I have fond memories of the bridge. I always stopped there while walking to and from the bus. I had to see what was swimming in the water or if I could catch a glimpse of a snake sunning itself on the rocks. If I had time, I would throw a stick or leaf on one side of the bridge and wait for it to come out the other side.

That area of the farm was where I spent a part of my free time, and I know there was serious minnow and crawfish crop in that area.

Aside from the fun I had as a child, my farming family relied on access in and out of the dairy. I don’t know of many all-terrain vehicles that pick up milk at farms.

I guess what got me started down this rabbit hole is when I heard of a major bridge that was taken down. Suddenly, what was an easy commute to the other side turned into a major problem.

Our personal disruption meant that we had to drive a few miles further to get to the milk plant; however, the disruption was much greater for others, and we got off easy with a minor reroute.

This event followed a longtime repair of a local bridge on a rural road that disrupted a few farmers during planting and harvest seasons. Everyone was in a better mood when that renovation was complete.

Duane and I are relational to our core; we love people and the relationships attached to them. He has often reminded me to “never burn a bridge because you never know when you might need to cross it again.” In other words, it is important to take care of the relationships around me.

I may think that I am secluded on my farm and that I do not need to deal with anyone outside of the dairy or my opinion, but that thought is blind to the fact that I cross a lot of bridges that connect to others. People who make my farm a better place make me a better person. I may or may not agree with that person on certain issues, but the relationship bridge between us should be based on respect that allows us to cross over.

I recently came across a song with a stanza that said: “I know how fear builds walls instead of bridges; I’ll dare to see another’s point of view.” This song has since stuck with me.

Maybe it is not such a bad idea for me to grab my insecurities by the wheel and cross the high bridge that is in front of me. I may eventually need whatever and whomever is on the other side.