Bucket Fillers

We talk from time to time about bucket fillers at work.  The bucket is you.  The fillers are what goes inside to fill you up.  The fillers are different for everyone.  What fills your bucket?  My bucket has leaks.  I think everyone's does.  Why else would we have to try so hard to fill them?  Let's face it, a lot happens in my day and being pulled to the ground by my hair in the middle of the street could put a hole in the sturdiest of buckets, right?  Right.  True story, by the way.  I like to give from my bucket; it's what I do.  But I need to replenish the water supply eventually.  Lucky for me my job is good for both poking (or sometimes punching) holes in my bucket and filling it.  A perpetual struggle you might say. Last week was rough at work.  The hair pulling incident happened on Friday.  After a hard week an incident like that could pretty much empty my bucket.  But not this particular Friday. Even with all of those holes, I had an experience waiting for me at the end of the day that I knew would fill me up.  

I always tell people that I am rarely frazzled by the kids at work.  That is true.  They are generally my bucket fillers.  But I also consider it a great privilege to supervise the direct care staff.  They can be bucket fillers too.  I have had some amazing learning experiences with the staff I have supervised over the years.  They fill my bucket with youthful energy, endless ideas about how to best care for kids, and an amazing desire to learn.  They might poke a few holes every now and again just like the kids do.  A perpetual struggle you might say.  The struggles are the best part though.  Right in the middle of the whole mess, just when I think there is not enough water to make up for all of the holes, it is the struggle that pushes the most water into my bucket.

On Friday that perfect struggle happened.  A small group of some of my most memorable former staff members and a special client on her way out the door.  They had seen her through some of the roughest times and she had trusted them with her life.  Friday was a time for not just goodbye, but good luck and closure. The actual exchange was full of childlike silliness, awkward silences and adorable moments.  It is always bittersweet for us to say goodbye when we have seen a child grow so much.  A struggle.  It is the ultimate emotional learning experience for them to sit with the conflicting feelings of happiness about moving on and sadness about the relationships they must leave behind.  A struggle.  It all happened in the hallway in front of the elevator.  And as she gave her final hugs and and we walked away, her shoulders dipped and she began to cry gently.  

I left her with these words in her memory book:  "You are like the ocean.  Sometimes fast and sometimes slow.  Lots of ups and downs, but always moving forward.  Always beautiful.  Please remember all that you have learned and keep growing!"

And with the rolling wave of all this struggle, my bucket overflowed.