I've always been fascinated by firewalkers ... you know who I mean, those people who can walk across a bed of hot coals without burning their feet. Though I've read a great deal about the physics of how it can be done, there aren't enough scientists in the universe to convince me that it's perfectly safe to take a stroll through a bunch of burning rocks. Nope ... not happening ... never in a million years. That's one of those things that I'm more than content to watch others participate in ... one of those things I will never do unless I'm forced to do it. I alternate between having tremendous respect for folks who are brave enough to quite literally put their feet in the fire and thinking they are seriously off their rockers. But no matter which line of thinking is occupying my mind, I love, love, love to watch those guys and gals tiptoe through the fire ... yep I surely do.
If you've been reading along with me over the last year or so, you may recall that a little over a year ago I moved to a different desk after joining a newly created team at the company where I work. Moving to the third floor was difficult for me for many reasons, not the least of which was that it meant I was no longer on the same floor as my beloved office fireplace. My lack of proximity to the fireplace combined with an increased workload and adjusting to the dynamics of the new team pretty much nixed my fire-building last winter. It's so true that you don't realize how much something means to you until it's gone, and it's even more true that sometimes the only way you learn to appreciate the depth of that meaning is by losing it ... sad, but oh so very, very true.
A couple of months ago when the chill of winter began to fill the air, I couldn't help but think about how soon it would be cold enough to have a fire in the fireplace ... and I couldn't help but be sad that I wouldn't be the person building them. Or at least I thought I wouldn't be that person anyway ... but I soon learned that couldn't be farther from the truth; in fact, I was kind of ... ummm ... I was sort of ... ummm ... well, let's just suffice it to say that my feet were held to the fire in regard to me resuming my master fire building responsibilities. As much as I hate to admit it, my feet needed to be singed a little ... my feet needed to be held to the fire to force me to truly appreciate the warmth that fire provided, not only to me but to others as well. Yep, you read that right ... me building the fires isn't just good for me, it's good for other people, too.
I wish I could tell you that it only took a week or so of building the fires again for me to thank the person who held my feet to the fire, but the truth is that I finally offered up that long overdue thank you to the person just yesterday. And ever since the words came out of my mouth, I've been thinking about why they were so hard for me to say. Saying thank you for holding my feet to the fire was hard to do because it forced me to admit that the other person was right and I was wrong ... not usually the most fun thing to do, you know. There's something else that's been on my mind since yesterday, too; in fact, I'm not at all sure that it's not going to stay on my mind for a very long time. I can't stop thinking about all the other areas in my life where I need some serious foot singeing ... but that's another post for another time.
So here's the thing ... there's always a thing with me, right? Some people might say that making someone else's feet burn a bit isn't a good thing to do, but I must disagree. Remember those fire walkers I mentioned? The more those brave souls ... oh, that's good ... souls ... soles ... feet ... get it? Think about it ... the more those folks walk across those burning coals, the stronger their feet become. I don't know about you, but I want my feet to be strong, and lots and lots of times the only way for them to get strong is for someone to hold them really darn close to the fire. You learn a lot when your feet are burning, friends ... you learn more than you ever thought you could when your feet are held dangerously close to the fire ... more than you ever thought you could indeed.
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