"Oh, he's a bucket filler!" exclaimed my six year old brother, with a big grin on his face.
"A bucket filler?" I asked, giggling, thinking he had mis-said something.
"A bucket filler, not an emptier," chimed in my 10 year old sister, and as she echoed his verbage, I pushed for an explanation. They explained that their class (I'm assuming at church) was learning about how everyone has an imaginary bucket inside of them, and there are people that either fill the bucket with good things, in a positive way. There are also people who are bucket emptiers--those who sap your joy, sap your energy, etc. etc.
My boyfriend, as my brother so boldly and correctly pointed out, is a bucket filler. He is helpful, cleaning my living room, folding my laundry, helping at my parent's house, choosing daily to love me in spite of my emotional outbursts, temper-tantrums, fears, and endless shortcomings. He is a bucket filler.
Over the years I have been friends with several bucket emptiers. Those who sucked me dry. They were demanding of my energy, time, money, joy, etc. They took and took without giving anything in return. They
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