It’s a gift to live in a place like Columbia. Whether on the trails, at the parks, by the lakes, or beneath the quiet canopy of Stephens Lake Park, we are a community that knows the value of getting outside. There is something about the springtime air in Missouri that subtly invites us to breathe a little deeper.
But if you’re anything like me, even when we get away from it all, we realize we are carrying way too much.
Imagine walking down Ninth Street carrying two five-gallon buckets filled to the brim with water. Each weighs about 50 pounds. You’d move slowly, eyes fixed on the ground, terrified of sloshing. Now, picture someone accidentally bumps into you near Shakespeare’s Pizza. You wouldn’t just be annoyed — you’d spill. And because those buckets are heavy, you’re likely to slosh water all over the person who bumped into you.
The thing is, those buckets aren’t really filled with water — they’re filled with the heavy burdens we carry. They contain our insecurity, pride, trauma, false narratives, anxiety, anger, and exhaustion. We don’t actually hold these buckets in our hands; they’re in our hearts. Although people can’t see them outwardly, they definitely feel their impact when they get spilled onto them.
Ever wonder why someone seemed to snap at you for no reason? That was their bucket sloshing over. Or have you been surprised by someone’s anger or hostility toward strangers? That’s a bucket running over.
Not too long ago, my daughter was quizzing me on some history she just learned, stuff I should know like the back of my hand. I found myself not just answering my kid — I was trying to prove I was smarter than a fourth grader. But I blanked and couldn’t answer. My daughter gave me that “Gotcha!” look, and I felt the weight of my own insecurity instantly. I am not proud to admit it: She got sloshed.
This struggle is at the heart of one of the most famous teachings in history. Jesus once summarized an entire way of living with a single principle: “Treat others as you would want them to treat you.” It’s a profound psychological and spiritual invitation to what I could just as easily call “bucket awareness.”
When my buckets of pride or anxiety spill on someone else, I don’t want a lecture, and I don’t want someone to spill back on me. I want grace. I want someone to see that I’m struggling with a heavy load and offer a bit of space for me to find my footing or even help me carry my load a bit.
Jesus’ teaching invites us to offer that exact same grace to the people around us. It suggests that the person who just bumped into you at the grocery store or went into a fit of road rage on Stadium Boulevard might be carrying a pair of buckets weighing 100 pounds. If we want mercy when we’re heavy-laden, the most transformative thing we can do is offer it first.
The weight of our buckets makes us move slowly and react too quickly. Yet there’s a relief that comes when we’re honest about what we’re lugging around. In my life, I’ve found that poking holes in my own buckets — that is, admitting when I’m fearful or insecure — actually drains the weight. It makes me lighter. When I am lighter, I am more prone to see the weight others are carrying and at times even have enough strength to help carry their load.
As you find yourself outside this month, enjoying all that our great city has to offer, look around at the people on the trail or the patio with you. We’re all carrying something. Maybe the best way to enjoy the great outdoors isn’t just to see the view or ride the trail, but to reach out a hand and help someone else carry their buckets.
