I was a “bucket filler” for Halloween this year. Problem is, I didn’t know what a bucket filler was until after I had already covered my shirt with confetti shapes and climbed into my very own bucket–a spray painted laundry basket with the bottom cut out.
“What are you Mrs. Chapman?” asked a curious student decked out in a Bulldog helmet and full pads.
“You’ll find out soon!” I answered, secretly hoping that I would too.
In retrospect, I really should’ve Googled the phrase or asked one of my fellow bucket fillers to explain. (Our fourth grade team of teachers dressed alike.)
But I was soon enlightened when we sat down as a grade level to read “Have You Filled a Bucket Today?” by Carol McCloud:
“All day long, everyone in the whole wide world walks around carrying an invisible bucket. You can’t see it, but it’s there.”
As the book progressed, I learned that bucket fillers are those who consistently pour into the “buckets” of those around them through kind words, actions and generosity.
The story was perfect for elementary students. It made me feel inspired and also a little overwhelmed, to be honest. All I could picture was my growing collection of spinning plates.
The author’s words were soon buried beneath a pile of unfinished tasks, lost in the busyness of work and home.
Until I was scrolling through Facebook a couple of days later and came upon a blog post by one of my favorite authors, Ann Voskamp. The article was about … buckets, of all things:
“Maybe empty buckets — are the fullest kinds of buckets.”
“Christ poured Himself out — to make us new vessels. And as we pour out the Christ in us — Christ makes new vessels all around us — and in us.”
Her words fell like raindrops on a thirsty heart. See, lately I’ve become keenly aware that my bucket is not emptied near often enough.
I’ve watched noble examples of the many people in my life who give of themselves until it hurts …
• The teacher who’s plate is over-full, and yet she makes time to mentor others.
• The hurting ones who set aside their own grief to comfort another.
• The pastor’s wife who takes the time she doesn’t really have to offer a listening ear.
• The husband who gives and gives some more, with no thought for himself.
• The mom who is generous, almost to a fault.
At the same time my eyes are being opened to the immense need that is present in my own circle of influence …
• That young student in a class of 18 who really needs some one-on-one time, and the other one who takes my attention by force for reasons I haven’t been able to sort through yet.
• The sweet daughter who needs everything, yet asks for nothing. I would do most anything to make her smile.
• The teenagers who struggle with identity and self worth and finding their way forward in a messed up world.
• The hungry ones and the broken. The hurting and those who struggle.
It is so easy to feel helpless. Then there’s me and my own great need.
I think sometimes the pain in our stories makes us want to hold onto what we have–especially those things that seem the most fragile and fleeting.
And when we fear we won’t have enough of something–whether time or money, moments of peace or the strength to go on–we start with the stockpiling and secret stashes.
It’s hoarding really, but that’s hard to recognize if you’re the one doing it.
Of course there is a balance to life that only God’s sweet Spirit can teach, but holding on for fear of running out just doesn’t feel like trust.
And in the deepest places of my heart, I so badly want it to be said of me, “She trusted God.”
I think of the widow in I Kings 17 who had “only a handful of flour” and “a little cooking oil.” She was asked to give the last she had, and through her obedience, God provided more than enough.
So, I’m beginning to believe that the answer to my need, and “theirs” too, is found at the bottom of the bucket.
That weakness makes way for God’s strength, and emptiness is where grace is found.
I remember that this is God’s way.
“If you cling to your life, you will lose it, and if you let your life go, you will save it.”–Luke 17:33
Teach me to be a bucket filler even when it’s scary. Help me trust that You will always be enough. When I’m tempted to hold on for dear life, show me how to let go. When my own story hurts and it feels safer to build walls, remind me that those walls will keep the love from flowing out. I believe that You are able to fill me up anew, even as I allow my life to be poured out.
In Jesus’ name,
“Pouring out your heart — is what will actually hold your heart together. Pouring out your life — is what will elevate your life.”–Ann Voskamp
“And remember, when you fill someone else’s bucket, you fill your own bucket too.”–Carol McCloud