Memories from a Bridge in a Tiny Town and a Hope for Peace

September 16, 2001

One of the most captivatingly beautiful places in the world is the Lumberville walking bridge. It’s peaceful, romantic, fluid, silent, soulful and comforting. If you look long enough in the distant from that bridge you can see shades of blue and gray and brown and green and yellow and pink and orange and mist.

Local folklore has it that on the eve of hunting season the deer come down the Pennsylvania mountains late at night and cross the walking bridge to escape “the season” in New Jersey. It’s so quiet on that bridge at night the clomping of the hooves must compete with the rapids.

On the Saturday following September 11, 2001, a handful of Lumbervillians gathered on the bridge just as the sun was starting to set. My best friend had raised her two small children on the river, and we joined the villagers to pray for peace and remember those who were suffering.

It was such a beautiful night, and it didn’t seem fair. We each tossed a zinnia into the river and that’s when I  wondered:  how can it be that nature is so magnificent and mysterious and yet something so horrible and uncomprehensible had happened that week.

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Elizabeth G. Nathans is a concerned resident of our world who wanted to share this beautiful memory with we all!

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