Benched Week 40: the far view

My son lives in Pittsburgh. Yesterday, on a sunny, spring day, we came to visit, to spend Easter with him – and to get him to take us up The Incline.

On previous trips, he had dismissed the landmark as too touristy.  It’s just two cable cars in which people can ride up and down a steep hill, overlooking the city.  But it’s a popular destination.  Alison prevailed, as moms often can, and he guided us there, where we met his girlfriend and rode up.

The view from the top was spectacular, taking in the whole of the city.  I could see why it was a popular place to visit.  Along the walkway at the top, hundreds of people strolled, stopping to snap themselves with Pittsburgh in the background.  The reflecting sun on the glass high-rises made it seem like the city was smiling for each click.



I found what I consider to be one of the least impressive benches in my journeys and we all sat. They chatted.  I did my usual listening and jotting of notes.  After a while, I asked Nathan and Christina what they best about living here.  They said that they liked the small-town feeling combined with the big city amenities.

This was something I had noticed.  Pittsburgh is broken up by the three rivers and frequent bridges into a collection of neighborhoods.  It’s a city defined by its distinctive pieces.  I find the whole geography of the place confusing, but I recognize its appeal.

Christina then said, “I hadn’t realized how beautiful a city it is until I flew back into it recently and saw all of it at once.”



That’s a statement that could be true for much of our lives.  We live in a series of little parts – segments of time, repeating duties, circles of friends – which we cobble together into another passing year. Those individual pieces may be enjoyable (or quite challenging) but we live them out with little thought to the whole. We sew each piece of fabric together and hardly wonder how crazy the quilt might be.  Sometimes, we need a view from above.

And taking a step back, that’s the real meaning of Easter. We get a far view on life. What we thought was the whole story turns out to be just a simple phrase – a mere sentence part – in a never ending epic that promises to grow richer and more fulfilling as it unfolds. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.

Just before we got up from the bench to ride the cable car down, a couple passed by.  He was wearing sunglasses and carrying a white cane – the one used by the visually impaired.  I caught only a sentence of their dialogue.  Referencing the apartment buildings behind us that overlooked the city, he said, “If I could live over here, I’d want to be in one of those!”

Exactly.  Even through a glass darkly, the far view is worth having.