a tisket a tasket, a red and yellow... bucket

A bucket is a term I picked up from a guy named Rob Bell at the National Youth Workers Conference (NYWC) back in 2004. He suggested that speakers (and I'm also seeing a benefit as a non-speaker/minister right now) write down events, ideas, and/or memories that make an impression on you and/or show you something about God and the way the world works. He took 8 hours to teach us this wonderful fact and I gave it to you in a few sentences, so I'm obviously not giving you the depth of this idea, but you get the picture. I equate "buckets" with writing in a journal- just shorter and at first possibly no insight. As you dwell on what you have in your buckets, you begin to see how God works in your life, the world, and you can communicate that with others. Tonight, I'd like to share something I'm putting in a bucket (and maybe you can help me dwell on it).

Last week, at the public library in Jessamine County, there was a blood drive. Since I like to help out my fellow man, and more importantly, have known people who have had injuries that required the use of donated blood, I decided to help out. My wife and I got there about noon and found out it would be an hour wait, so we went, got lunch, and came back. We sat in a mobile home (the blood mobile) for 3 1/2 hours before finally leaving. Because Joanna had visited Honduras within the past four years, they had to do an extensive amount of questioning to make sure that her blood was good enough for them. (I started to tell them that I was a vampire and that her blood had worked for me for the past four years, but I let that small historical tidbit pass).

During that time, it was cold, cramped, was told I had low blood pressure, got stuck with a needle (in my finger and arm), and had blood drained out of me. I was not smiling like the girl in the picture. Afterwards as a thank you, I was given something to drink, a snack to eat, a mug, and a sticker that read, "Don't make fun of me, I've donated blood." (Doesn't that sticker just make you want to rush out and do it all over again?)

At one point, the nurse asked "How are you feeling?" Being the foresighted guy that I am, I had already pondered this question to try and come up with the appropriate response that did not make me look weak: "I'm feeling better looking. It is true that donating blood makes you better looking right?" I'm still not sure why the nurse looked at me like she ought to suggest a psychologist.

For the first few hours after the donation, I was a little light-headed because of the lack of blood in my body. Thank goodness my heart will pump out more to replenish the supply. Today, I can still see the mark where the needle broke through my skin and entered my vein. I also developed a bruise that has covered about a grapefruit size portion of my arm centered around the puncture wound.

I will let you dwell on this story for a few days and Monday (after I've thought about it more also) I will tell you some of my thoughts.

I'd like to hear your insights: Do you see God teaching me/us anything through these events? How do I/we fit into God's world that He's created? Ever had a "blood donating" experience?