My Bucket List...

My Bucket List

All the water we used at Cloverly, my grandparent’s home, had to be drawn from the well and carried into the house. The well, dug by hand, sat in the back yard near the stone wheel that Granddaddy used to sharpen tools and knives. It was encircled with stones and covered with a wooden lid. A pulley over the frame above the well held the rope that let the bucket down into the well. Every morning and afternoon, Granddaddy let the bucket down into the well, the pulley creaking a little at the weight of the old oak bucket. He waited until the bucket hit the water and filled, then pulled up a heavy bucket full of sweet well water with the pulley squeaking loudly. Two white enamelware buckets were filled and carried into the kitchen where they sat on a table ready for use. The battered and dented aluminum dipper hung over the side of a bucket for quick drinks. Saturdays required four or five extra buckets of water for the wash tub bath in the kitchen. Water was a precious commodity. The well was always full and never ran dry.
This weekend a friend asked me what was on my bucket list, the list you make when you think about what you want to do before you kick the bucket. I thought awhile and then thought some more. I could name some things that would be fun to do but none of them were essential for my soul’s sake. Travel to other countries would be fun and educational, I am sure. Winning the sweepstakes would eliminate financial stress. Visiting the great art museums all around the world would be loverly. But the truth of the matter is that I have my bucket list already.
I am married and happy, a word that is too cheap these days. Happiness that is a slow flowing river of contentment, and thanksgiving for all I have been given in my relationships. Husband, mother, children, grandchildren and friends give me the gift of their presence in my life, a presence that upholds me when the river of life is rocky and dangerous.
I live on a farm like I always wanted to. Farm work keeps me close to God all year. This farm has beauty... sunrises and sunsets, fog and clouds drifting over the distant hills and settling in the valleys, the passage of the seasons just outside my front door. The lessons of nature are everywhere... life and death come in season, an animal bone drug up by a dog, the death of this season’s leaves, new baby fawns, kittens in the leaning barn, harsh winter weather that gives way to soft spring’s gentle winds, drought that seems to last forever, and the sure knowledge that nothing on this earth is permanent.
I have horses. A long cherished dream of being close to my own horse has come true. It is infinitely richer and more difficult than anything I ever imagined. I will be learning about horses for the rest of my life. They will be my teachers in the art of relationship with someone very different from yourself.
I teach. To teach others how to explore their own gifts of creativity and to do it well is a challenge and a gift. I am a good teacher. I don’t scare people who are struggling to find their artist inside. I know how to affirm what they produce and point out changes without overwhelming their tender child that lives inside. Work to do and pleasure in the doing of it...
My bucket list is more like Granddaddy’s bucket dropping down into the well, coming up full to overflowing. The well of God’s grace and presence in my life provides full buckets of thanksgiving and praise. Whenever I want to or need to, I can walk out to the well and pull up buckets of blessings given to me, not because I deserved them, but as a gift of grace. I guess my bucket list is a long one after all.
An old hymn written by Baptist minister Robert Lowell is my bucket list theme song for today... How Can I Keep From Singing. “My life flows on in endless song above earth’s lamentation, I hear the clear, though far off hymn, that hails a new creation. No storm can shake my inmost calm since to the Rock I’m clinging. Since Love is Lord of heaven and earth, how can I keep from singing?”