Am I My Brothers Keeper?

Years ago, I made up a theory.

It is part armchair psychologist, part mom, and probably, part nonsense

. . . . it goes like this:

"The Bucket Theory".

When we are born, we all come with a bucket. Our bucket needs to be filled. Only good experiences, loving and nurturing, can fill your bucket.

Droplets are added with each kindness paid to you: diaper changes, hugs, tender words, and birthday celebrations. The level of your bucket raises when someone kisses your scraped knee, teaches you to ride a bike, reads you a bedtime story, or guides you away from bad influences. When you are a child, your bucket readily and rapidly accepts contents; the rate slows, as you move through your formative years. After maturity, your bucket level remains about the same; it becomes your emotional reservoir, tool set, unique outlook, for life.

If your bucket is full, you are confident, trusting and secure, with a realistic outlook and faith in mankind. In short, you are empowered to successfully navigate life.

There are some, like those severely deprived Romanian orphans (and my dog, Rembrandt, who was taken from his mother too early), who have very little in their buckets; and others, whose buckets are brimming. Most of us fall somewhere in between. My theory contends that, in general, our well adjusted behavior comes from what went into our bucket, and most of our issues, hang-ups and neurosis, are rooted in what did not go into the bucket.

Simple.

Except, we are all born with a unique spirit. Our spirit interacts with the bucket contents, creating varied, unpredictable reactions among individuals. Thus, the homeless child of an abusive heroin addict can, defying the odds, become a responsible, happy, contributing member of society. By the same token, some well nurtured individuals are a mess. However, these are exceptions to the general rule.

I developed this theory years ago and I, myself, have been the perfect proving ground. As much as I believe, and I do, in our ability to grow, repent, change and progress, I am still much the same person I was as a youth. Tempered by maturity, I still react the same way to criticism, I still like to be in charge, I still desire approval, and I am still a positive person whose realistic side, as I'll call it, occasionally has a bleak outlook.

After a certain age, it is time to accept what is in our bucket and own it. This is the time to release any blame we may be carrying; forgive, move on, and play the hand we are dealt. We must take responsibility for our own fate. After adulthood, change comes slowly; so we . . . . certainly I . . . . seem to deal with the same issues (weaknesses, neurosis, demons, slanted point of view, however you want to put it) over and over again.

Have I made it seem hopeless? Sorry, that is my realistic side talking.

Lest all hope be lost, I have found a remedy that works great, for me. It is found completely outside the bucket. The remedy is to utterly disregard what is or isn't in the bucket. Forget it.

Move on. You can't go back and fill it anyway.

Instead . . . . . . . . . . concentrate on filling the buckets of others.

Service. Love. Compassion.

Nothing sets me straight like getting outside of my little world and doing something for someone else. I can't say I am a shining example of giving service, I just know it works. It literally corrects my mood, heals my wounds and most importantly, places the contents of my bucket into perspective . . . . all the while, helping others. Win. Win. When I look around, there are limitless opportunities; dented, leaky, half filled buckets are everywhere. . . . we just have to be willing to think outside our bucket.

Then, the request to "feed my sheep" (john 21:17) isn't just about lending our help; in fact, when we bolster human spirits with clothing, food,comfort, or a listening ear, it is about filling buckets
. . . . . . even our own:

"as we give our love . . . we feast even more abundantly on the food of peace and joy"
(Barbara W. Winder Relief Society General President)


Even if you find my theory (like a bucket) full of holes,

You have to admit, we can all use more peace and joy

. . . . and the Christmas season is a great time to spread some.