I’m floating down the Juniata River with my Uncle Bobby, and I hear my daughters say, “We can’t find the current!” when their inner tubes slow to a still.

“Make your own!” he says as he paddles happily down the river, using his arms as oars. 

I think about all we blame when we feel life’s not going our way. Instead of crying that I can’t find a good current, I make my own.