Ain't Life Funny Like That

First off let's start off with a question.  Why do you visit a blog?  For inspiration?  For a laugh?  Out of curiosity?  For an answer to a question?  Because you are a creeper?  what brings you back to a blog?  The theme of the particular blogger and his (or her) interests?  Maybe the fact that they are consistently talking about your interests?  Well here is a small confession...I am consistently inconsistent.  In my head is an organic pinball machine where my mind bounces from topic to topic sometimes quite rapidly... Don't laugh, sometimes it hurts.

Anyways, today's post is a funny story about my daughter, her love/hate relationship with swimming, and her role as a mommy to about 15 baby dolls of every race, gender, and level of clothing.  I grew up in Florida and it was unfortunate that every year a child would drown in a pool.   My daughter is 2 and loves the pool, or as she lovingly refers to it, "the big bath."  I don't want my daughter to be another number in some sad statistic.  So, being the proactive firefighter father I am, every time we get into a pool we play a game that was handed down from my dad.  It was a game of great fear and near death experiences...I thought at the time.  The game was quite simple, my dad would hold me under the arms facing him and slowly twirl in a circle, rhythmically bobbing me in the water, and singing "All around the mulberry bush."  The whole song was nothing but a climatic rise to the "pop goes the weasel" at which time my dad would bob me higher in the air and allow me to make a splash on my way down.  The purpose was to get me comfortable with water in my face and allow me to move on to swimming.  The game worked on me and was employed by the YMCA when my dad taught infant survival in the water...that fact does not impress my daughter.  She cries and screams every time (mostly as a show for her mommy, you see, my wife likes to "rescue" the kids from daddy while in the pool).

I know what you are thinking...so far not funny.  Well here is the "punch line."

I came home from work last week and was harassing my wife while she was cooking, as I usually do, when I heard the poorly pieced together lyrics from my past.  Lyrics that wrought fear in my heart.  I quietly sneaked into the living room where I found my daughter holding one of her babies in an ever familiar way, singing a two year old's rendition of "all around the mulberry bush."  After she stumbled her way to the end of the song she threw her arms in the air and kept shouting "POP GOES THE WEASEL!  POP GOES THE WEASEL!"  All of the sudden she stopped, turned her head my way, and and gave me the most mischievous grin that almost whispered " Ain't life funny?"

All I could was smile.

Our ever present flames

Flames.  Each and every day we face flames.  Some are quite evident and some are less observable.  Fire has been used for many years as a tool.  A tool to create, and a tool to destroy.  Sometimes a flame is an end of a phase, and sometimes it is a new beginning.  How we see these flames, many times, depends on our perspective.

Often we only see the negative attributes of the flames.We focus on the charred remains and fail to see the new beginnings lying just underneath.  We are so fixated on the loss we totally miss the hidden blessing.

The old adage "attitude sets altitude" should be our motto.  Let us remember to focus on the new and learn from the old.  Focusing on the past sets up failure in our future and an attitude of loss or defeat only increases the pain.

On this journey let us focus on the blessings that are often overlooked.