Like a Fist in a Bucket of Water

There is this little voice that I ignore most days.

Today, I could not ignore it.

This voice tells me that I am replaceable. That I am nothing but a butt in a chair. I am nothing but a faceless being.

A forgettable happening.

I know where this voice comes from.

It comes from my biggest fear. My biggest fear is dressed in a black coat, her head hangs down shielded from visibility and her face is drawn- emaciated from missed opportunity.

My biggest fear sits on an empty park bench, convincing herself she wasn't meant for anything more.

I filmed an insurance commercial last week. I was cast as a bride who was waltzing with her father on her big day. The location was the Schermerhorn Nashville Symphony ballroom, complete with marble floors, stately pillars, and vintage chandeliers that drizzled down from various points of the cathedral ceiling.

It was beautiful.

The only problem was that my "dad" couldn't waltz.

Well, let me rephrase that.

He couldn't snap his fingers, clap his hands, tap his toes, or even nod in rhythm. He wouldn't know a beat from a basketball.

It was mortifying.

It took us a trillion takes to go in one succinct waltz circle.

The voice that I usually ignore was screaming inside my head, "This is your fault! If only you knew how to waltz you could lead this poor man, and you wouldn't be blacklisted from any and every Blue Cross Blue Shield job in the future. Why are you so unprepared?"

However, every single person in the room, the dance instructor, the directors, the PA's, and even the guy whose only job is to blot sweat off of people (yes that is a job)- told me over and over, LET HIM LEAD!

And so I did. The problem was that this guy had no idea how to lead. And yet I still had to wait for him to get it.

In application, I am not saying that God doesn't know how to lead me, but I certainly have a hard time letting Him.

After many failed attempts, we finally got the take- long after blisters had begun to appear and my temples were throbbing from frustration.

I gathered my things and left the shoot feeling deflated.

My biggest fear was staring me in the face. Who knows how much longer they would have gone without replacing me- or cutting me out of the commercial altogether. The truth is, they still may.

Awhile ago I had my boss tell me something that to this day still plays in my head. Usually I hear the playback in the moments when I doubt my life's direction, when my biggest fear is being most vocal.

I was standing at the edge of his desk, feeling hot and edgy from his undeniable gaze of his scrutiny. He doesn't judge you outwardly, you just feel this constant squashing- its an action that is hard to define but so definite.

"It is so amazing to me that people think they are irreplaceable."

I wasn't sure if he knew I was a person- a part of the "people", and that by default he was referring to me, but I swallowed hard and nodded my head in agreement.

To his credit, that day one of his employees had ran a backhoe into the city of Paducah's gas line and shut down an entire section of the city's gas.

I would prbably be in a bit of mood too.

"You know what I say? Go put your fist in a bucket of water. If you pull it out and there is still an imprint of your hand in the bucket, then you are irreplaceable. If not, well, you aren't."

The law of physics would say that he is right.

However, I disagree.

If only for a second, the fist made a difference, no matter how small or for how long. And while the fist didn't leave a permanent impression, it still made one in transition.

Granted, I wouldn't want my "fist time" in this hypothetical bucket of water to be marked by endangering a corner of a small Kentucky town, but you get the point.

We are all in transition. We are all fists in a bucket of water.

And if my God is the God I think He is, there is a purpose for it. However irrelevant it seems, however minute, however deprecating- he is leading us to something. He is leading us to our purpose. We just have to wait.

Nothing in this world is permanent, except for the irreplaceable call that God has given to each one of us.

The truth is I don't plan on having my fist in a bucket of water for the rest of my life. I don't want my worth to be determined by how long I can remain still in a motionless vat of time.

There is an ocean of opportunity out there, and while my biggest fear tells me just to settle for the stagnate water of some beat up container- my hand is shaped into a fist.

And I am ready to fight for the life God has planned for me.

Hopefully waltzing isn't a part of the program.