“Hold onto my arm,” he instructs me.
I look up at him and grip his arm tight.
My husband and children are behind me and I can’t look back.
Instead, I trust this man and take my first step.
I am balancing on a suspension bridge 200 feet above a river; it is swaying as I take tentative steps forward.
I am dizzy. The valley is far, far below me…
“Do not look down,” he orders gently. “Just hold on to my arm and walk.”
My legs are like hardened cement. I can hardly breathe, my heart beating wildly; I really can’t move. What was I thinking?
Just minutes before, I was on the other side of the bridge reading about Old Khndzoresk, an ancient village built into cliffs. Over 8000 Armenians used to live in caves throughout the rocks and cliffs here. In order to visit the village, you have to cross this 525 foot long bridge, and I was debating about whether or not to participate in this adventure. My husband and children on the other hand couldn’t wait to begin.
“Come on, Mama, let’s go!” My little man pulled at my arm.
My husband encouraged me, “You got this, Babe!” He knew my fear was a heavy, lead weight.
“I will just stay on this end and let my children and husband go,” I decided, my heart pounding wildly. There is no way I can get on that bridge. I feel sick just looking at it.
That’s when Sevada appeared.
“Would you like me to give you a tour of my village?” he asked us.
And when he saw how afraid I was of crossing the bridge, he offered his hand.
“Let me help you.”
“I grew up here in this village and I helped make this bridge, ” he assured me. ” Just walk with me…”
I decided to trust him.
He is so confident. So strong and sure.
He helped make this bridge — this swaying metal chain-link-like bridge. When I look down, I can see right through those links, some of them rusty. I can see down to the water. I am walking on holes punched into metal.
“Don’t look down,” he says again.
And we walk. Swiftly.
He moves briskly, with certainty, asking me questions about my life, my children; we walk and move and go and I am feeling the wind pushing me and the bridge is rocking. My legs are like jello and everytime someone else steps on the bridge and it shakes, I gasp for breath audibly.
But I answer Sevada’s questions and I keep moving.
I hear my children’s laughter, my husband’s voice; I am far ahead of them, in the very middle, suspended in air between two mountains. “Mama, you are doing great! Mama! Mama! Hey! Look where we are!” They are exuberant and I dare not turn back to look at them. My eyes are fixed on the end of this bridge. I am not turning to the left or the right, up or down; I simply can’t.
I just keep moving one foot in front of the other, listening to Sevada’s soothing voice. Trying to keep up with his rhythmic pace. Breathe in, step, breathe out, step…the end is getting closer…
“And we are here,” he matter of factly announces. “Let me help you step off…” He calmly takes my hand and I stagger off the bridge and onto firm land. I can hardly believe it! I am shaking, almost crying, breathing heavily, my legs about to give. “See, you did it,” Sevada congratulates me. “Well done!”
“Oh, thank you, thank you so much for helping me, Sevada!” I finished! We’re here on the other side! I still can’t believe it. I am able to turn around and watch my family now. One by one, they stumble towards me, relieved to be finished as well. “You did it, Mama! You crossed the bridge!” My middle child exclaims. “Wasn’t that fun?!” My boy is jumping up and down, ready to run through the trails and see the caves. “Yeah, um, that was scary!” My oldest little lady admits. We all laugh.
We did it. We did it!
I am wiping tears from my eyes now. Oh goodness, why am I so emotional about this? I am laughing and I am exultant, a deep well of joy stirring up inside me. My husband takes my hand. His eyes are sparkling as he gazes into mine and nods. He knows how fearful I was of this. He knows how reluctant I was to begin. And he sees how much I just want to run and dance and sing right now, a childlike excitement bubbling up in my heart.
I feel like a colt set free!
“Sevada built this bridge,” I tell him breathlessly. “Sevada’s lived here and he knows this place and I just gripped his arm – there’s no way I could have done this on my own – and I kept moving along with him and I didn’t look down and I just kept going and I am here….” I exhale.
“I saw you do it,” my husband smiles and squeezes my hand.
*********
I am remembering this particular day – one of a multitude of days – on a trip overseas when our Father-God gently and lovingly exposed and crushed many of my fears, one by one. As I was reflecting on this day, I could sense Father God whispering to my soul:
I built this world. I sent my Son to live here. I know this place; you’re not meant to walk alone. Hold my hand and keep following me…
I. Love. You.
Tags: Armenia, Armenian folk music, Khndzoresk, Mariam Matossian, Suspension Bridge