Can a life be reclaimed? At some point have you passed too many junctures with no u-turns to ever go back to "the way things were". And even if you could, would you? In the tethering that we do that makes us adults, we also pick up things that make our life better, things we love, things we would miss.
But perhaps the idea of being reclaimed is not about reverting to a different time but re-purposing for a new time. For example, can lovers REALLY reclaim or relive those feelings from younger years?
I think about my husband, we met in college, and life was so light, free, unencumbered. We laughed and were silly. We loved hard because everything was possible, or at least it felt that way. Could we reclaim that?
Perhaps reclaimed in life, is about making current moments into younger reinvigorated versions of themselves. Taking time to sand off responsibility and to do lists, to polish moments, so that we set aside the weights on our shoulders, and live like we did before those things were there.
It means taking time to do something you love; for me, that is quiet Saturday reading Harry Potter and writing poetry. It is walks and picnics in the park with my husband. For me, it is less of work on my mind and less of past regrets weighing me down, and more of the current moment. It is listening like you don't have 50 other things to do. It is inside jokes, silliness and loud music.
I think people have the power to reclaim others. To see them as they once were, bright, beautiful, fun. To give them the chance to see it in themselves. To return life to someone who felt that the best had long since passed them by. These people look at you with eyes that believe in your possibilities in what you WILL achieve. My younger sisters sometimes look at me that way, and for a moment, I feel as if I still have meaning and purpose and opportunity. They look at me and turn my life into something of MORE value than before. Their faith in me reclaims me. It is a childlike faith, even though they too are adults. I hope they never see the truth, that I am weathered and worn, that I feel too far past to achieve big dreams... that I often live life going through the motions, without feeling the meaning behind it. They believe, and that makes me believe too. It strips away the past, and closed doors.
Yes, reclaimed is a powerful word. It is transformative, it adds value, it renews.
And it forces me to think, do I reclaim others, do I see them as they are or as they can be? Do I have faith in them when they don't in themselves? Can I help them to be MORE?
It is hard. Something about moving through adulthood narrows your vision. You tunnel in on what is, and what you have to do and forget the rest. You see the person who is and forget the person who was or who can be.
When I get feeling overburdened with family and household responsibilities, and stressed about work, AND frustrated with my husband, that is all I see, all that he is. I forget the man who drove two hours on a work night to buy me college textbooks I critically needed when I was too poor to buy them myself or the man who forgave me and said sorry at the end of a huge fight even when he was right and I was wrong (yes dear, it is now officially in writing!) :) He is right there in front of me, but at the same time hidden.
The same goes for the person in the mirror. When I get buried in my to-do, and should-do, and honey-do lists, I forget that I can do or be more; I can create, I can dream, I can invent, I can laugh, I can love. Sometimes the pressure of adulthood squeezes the view to nothing more than what we are at the moment, which is almost always going to be a day behind and a dollar short. But there is more, there was more. We need to be reclaimed.
The best example of this is the Savior Jesus Christ. He gave his life to reclaim all of us. But we learn a lot about how to do this in our own lives, by looking at his life. He walked among the broken, the poor, the outcast, the sinner. He believed in them, he reached out, he saw them for what they could be, not just what they were. He reclaimed them. He does the same for us, he can transform us. I know that because he continually does that for me. As I pray, "Why is my life so small?" "Why am I here?", "Why does this hurt so much?" "Why is this so hard?" He answers in my heart, again and again, with a powerful, burning peace that lets me know there is more, he sees more. I am transformed by the love he offers and the message, "If you will turn to me, I will use you. You are meaningful to me."
It takes work to reclaim. To salvage. To reinvigorate. To believe. But I can also see the beautiful results of salvaged lives all around me. Like old barn wood; extracted, stripped, sanded, polished... that efforts yields distinctly beautiful pieces that are sometimes even more special than they once were.
I have moments when I feel reclaimed. These tiny powerful miracle-like moments in my life make me believe. They are as palpable to me as parting seas or burning bushes, they are the fire that makes from the ashes and embers something more of my existence than what it is day-to-day. They make me believe that I, and others, can be and are something more. They make me dare to do something new, to laugh like the sound can drive all the cares away from my chest, and to smile more. They make me remember to live more like I used to, and to look at others in a way that let's them do that too.
Yes indeed, reclaimed is a powerful and beautiful word.
