Receptacle: a container, device, that receives or holds something.
*bowl, box, holder, hopper, repository, vessel, wastebasket*
This word, receptacle, has been reverberating around in my head off and on for months now. It would fade away for a bit, but eventually it returned, one day quite piercingly. The thought in my head "You are just a receptacle..."
There have been many times throughout my adult life when I thought of myself as a receptacle. A vessel to hold others wanted and unwanted items.
When a small child has intrusted me to hold some small item they treasure, I feel honored in their trust.
When someone has a today-was-a-bad-day epic to tell me, or a sad woeful story to tell, or tears to spill and I become that needed receptacle for their anquish and pain, I again feel honored in their trust.
When someone has had an I-have-been-pondering-this story, or an epiphany, a stroke of utter brilliance, an I-had-the-most-amazing-thing-happened-to-me tale to tell, I am honored, pleased, joyful to be the needed receptacle.
But I have also had times when I felt as if I was a repository for someone's debris, a container for their residuum, or worse yet, deemed worthy for nothing but the very minor leavings of their life. ( I really hate that feeling)
I have this image of the receptacle I would like to be, actually images, I think I would be a large well-rounded wooden bowl with a slightly inward curving lip, aged golden oak in color, my edges smoothed from the oils of fingers and wrists that have slid over me to recapture some item that I have been holding in trust. Perhaps a few cracks or fissures appear on my surface, from age and use. But none are deep or detrimental to my usefulness. A receptacle that bore the items entrusted to me for safekeeping with love, honor, and protection until they could be retrieved.