There's a Hole in the Bucket...

... dear Liza, dear Liza.

This is me when I run out of blogs to read.

Just kidding.

I'm not here to sing you a catchy song.

Or even to write a catchy post.

Instead, I'm going to let you take the spotlight today.

Yup. You.

I fear there may be a hole in my good ol' bucket o' blogs, because it's running dry.

And when I don't have many blogs to read, I get sad.

So whether you're young or old, rich or poor, a native to this blog or a new reader, I want you to leave a comment with your a blog that you're really loving right now.

It can be about anything. Circuses. Parades. Circuses in parades! I'm not picky, I promise.

Let me have it! And thanks in advance!

Concerning Mrs. Hatmaker

Jen Hatmaker is wrecking my life.

It started about five days ago.

Somehow, by some supernatural force, Mrs. Hatmaker weaseled her way into the life of one of our best friends. And somehow, someway, she convinced our friend to convince my wife to convince me to participate in the challenge presented in her book 7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess.

Jen Hatmaker is a very convincing woman, apparently.

When she wrote this book in 2011 she knew. She just knew that she was going to ruin me.

First of all, she's starting by taking away my sacred Sundays and forcing me to spend it resting. And actually going to church! Ridculous, I say! I'm American! I work every day, around the clock, and only stop for coffee!

And then there's this this prayer nonsense we're doing as a part of the chapter on stress. She's treating it like it actually matters. Apparently she missed the memo that we get when we become Christians that says, "We only say we'll pray - God doesn't actually expect us to do it." Who actually wastes time with such an antiquated ritual, anyway?

And seven times a day?! What are we, monks? C'mon, Jen. I have really important stuff to do, like checking my Facebook compusively throughout the day. If I'm praying seven times a day, how do you expect me to know every intimate detail of my friends' lives?

And while I'm thinking of it: I love the number seven. But now, something tells me I'm going to grow to hate it. Just one more thing to thank Jen Hatmaker for...

And this stinkin' book just. keeps. going. 

After the stress chapter I have to basically stop eating food for a month, only getting to choose 7 foods to eat.

And then after that I have to dress like a flippin' hobo, only getting 7 pieces of clothing to wear.

And then Mrs. Jen attacks my spending habits. And my sacred media. And my possessions. And my waste (which I obviously have none of - c'mon, Jen). This is my life, Mrs. Hatmaker, and I'm not sure why you insist upon ruining it for oh, so long.

Will the mutiny ever end?!

This is gonna be a tough one, people. I'm thinking I'm going to have to add this challenge to my 52 in 2012 (which I guess would make it 53). If I don't make it, you'll know who to thank. But before you do, let me be the first to say it:

Mrs. Hatmaker, you've officially ruined my life, and for that, I thank you.

... ... ...

Questions: What do you think about the idea of simplifying your life? Do you think we live in excess? What's so bad about having so much? How can you simplify your life today?


Interested in the book? I'm giving it my highest recommendation - a billion stars out of a billion. BUY IT! (And no, I get nothing for this - Jen Hatmaker and her publisher have no idea I exist)

De-Lurking Time!

photo credit: wizard - sxc.hu

Alright, people.

I know you're out there.

I have my ways - trust me.

With that being said, it's time to come out of the darkness for a moment. Just a moment, I swear!

Get out of that shell and leave a comment!

Say hello, let me know you exist, and then you can go back into hiding. And if you regularly comment, feel free to comment as well!

Let's make this an epic National Delurking Day get-together!

Use What You've Got

So the other day, we chatted about a dude named Timothy.

You don't recall that conversation? Check out this post from Monday.

Sir Tebow is a pretty popular dude - hence why I'm talking about him again.

You see, I highlighted something that T-squared said the other day, and I think that was pretty stinking important. However, there's something else he said in that same post-game interview that struck a chord with me. Something that resonated with my heart, that I can't let go of.

Here's the quote I pulled in full again, with a little different emphasis:

I’m very thankful for the platform God has given me… 

It’s special to have the platform of playing football because I have an opportunity to affect people.

I was very excited to have Bailey Knaub here at this game… Football is amazing, we love it, but the real win is being able to comfort a girl who’s gone through 73 surgeries before the game and get a chance to go hang out with her now. That’s the biggest win of the day, so they’re both exciting, but that’s what I’m even more proud of.

Monday, I focused on the last sentence of Tebow's quote. And now, since it's the last day of the work week, I want to focus on the first thing Tebow had to say in response to hearing that he was a nationwide phenomena.

Whether you like Tim Tebow as a person or as a football player, you can't deny this: he's wise beyond his years. You see, Tim Tebow understands something very important about his life. He realizes that what he has is nothing more than a stage, to be occupied and used, but eventually vacated. So he's making the most of his set time, knowing that eventually, someone else is going to steal the show.

And suddenly, a couple of days ago, I realized the same thing.

I have a platform, just like Tim Tebow. It may not be the same, but it's a stage nonetheless - eventually, I will have to bow out. And I want to be wise with the short set time that I have. I want to make it evident what I'm about and where my heart lies. And when I think about my heart, the first thing that comes to my mind is adoption.

I don't have enough time or web space to explain why I'm so passionate about this subject. That's another another topic for another blog post.

So here I am, on the stage I've been given (for now), bearing my heart's passion to you. I want to use this moment, while I have it, to issue a call to action. It may be small, but the impact of this action may be immeasurable. So here's the plea I'm issuing:

I, in the most sincere and passionate way, ask you to sign this petition. It is a small step toward a push for an extension of a tax credit which would help families fully fund adoptions beyond 2012. 

Personally, I know of several families that were able to be formed as a result of this tax credit. And I know of several more are waiting in the wings, hoping that they too will receive the funds to fully fund their own adoption.

I know that petition signing seems like a loaded thing these days, but please consider taking a moment of your time to help support this very worthy cause. 

And after you sign the petition, you better get to steppin'. After all, you, just like Tim Tebow, only have so much time left on the stage you've been given.

... ... ...

Questions: What does your stage look like? What do you ultimately hope to use your stage for? 

Don't forget to subscribe to Life Before the Bucket! If you enjoyed this post, please use those fancy schmancy buttons down there to share this post with your friends and family!

photo credit: Raven3k - sxc.hu

A Longing for Fatherhood

This is a repost that is ridiculously relevant in my life right now, and I really wanted to share it with you. Enjoy!

A couple of weeks ago, I had the privilege of spending time with someone I care about very deeply.

I can't tell you her name, because it's complicated, but I can tell you about her (and I've been dying to do that).

This girl, she's about 5 years old. She's beautiful. She is usually high on energy and loves to talk. She loves playing, climbing trees, and putting together puzzles. In fact, she might even end up being smarter than me.

This girl isn't able to receive love from her parents on a regular basis. They don't have that right anymore. But she has her grandparents, and they love her well enough. They just weren't expecting to go through the parenting motions at this point in their lives.

Last time we visited this girl, we wanted to take her home with us. To let her know that she's loved. To prove to her that she has a home.

Instead (because kidnapping is frowned upon around here), we settled for having lunch with her, playing games, putting together a puzzle, and climbing trees.

I don't remember the last time I climbed a tree. And my lungs certainly don't remember either, because they were not very happy when I tried.

But it was for her. To show her that I love her. That I care. That I want to spend time with her and do the things she does and love the things she loves.

We climbed trees for what seemed like hours. She even climbed one that I told her she wouldn't be able to until she was bigger. She proved me wrong, and I was so happy for her.

Among the trees, she has a swing. And when we were done climbing, worn out and tired, she invited me to come sit by it. She told me all about how she swings, and how she has a pile of dead leaves that she collects next to the swing. She stood on the swing as it swung back and forth, telling me about how dangerous it was.

I added to her dead leaf collection that day. And though she probably doesn't remember it, that was a great (albeit silly) moment in my life.

She let me add to her life. To be part of it. To love and enjoy her company.

Someday, I hope I can do this full-time. I long to be her father. But if that day never comes, I know God is taking care of her, watching as she climbs those trees, climbing with her. I know he's there watching her swing and encouraging her to be a little more dangerous, even if it might hurt a little. I know he adds to her dead leaf collection from time to time. And I know he loves her.

I just hope that the day comes when I can join him in that.

... ... ...

Questions: What were your parents like? Were they able to play with you on a regular basis? Or did you have someone else in your life that filled that role?

Don't forget to subscribe to Life Before the Bucket! If you enjoyed this post, please use those fancy schmancy buttons down there to share this post with your friends and family!