A Messy Reclamation

 Ladies and gentlemen.....may I present to you....our big fat mess.

In direct contrast to the idyllic shots of glass-flat water and breath-snatching sunsets and the wildflowers and blueberries that adorn our cottage property, in this meditation I will reveal the not-so-pretty spots we're contending with here at the cottage.

Yes, there are all those beautiful things.  But also, we are in the midst of a re-claiming project of family heritage property that now has come under our stewardship.  This is the current chapter of a rather long and at times convoluted story that, once everyone who could recognize themselves is dead, and with the addition of a few embellishments, could make for a 'based on a true story" epic novel.  (Don't worry.  I'm not going to attempt it.  For one thing, I'd recognize myself.)

So here it is.  The piles of lumber, the shingles growing moss, and the buildings barely standing. 

These things take time, and the big fat messy parts are on a list, believe me.  I particularly wish I could reassure some local folks who make comments as they go by in their boat (I can hear you above the sound of your motor by the way).  

But our decision to 'reclaim' as much of the older buildings as possible, requires a slower and more meticulous process.  We can't just hire some deconstruction crew or junk removal company to tear it all down and haul it all away indiscriminately.  Not until we prioritize, assess, measure and properly assign still-good wood, windows and frames, locks and hinges and antique hardware.  Like I said, this is heritage property, and there's a lot of value in the details.  

And in the process.  And how that process needs to include all of us.  Earlier this month we yanked down the old boathouse, which, considering the trapezoid nature of its leanings for several seasons already, was harder to do that we expected.  But everyone was here to witness this historic event.  The older kids even had the chance to click a few notches on the block and tackle that was employed to pull out the final supporting structures.  It was important to us that the whole family be part of this.  It belongs to us all.  And this chapter in the story features us in the leading roles.  And to include us all, at various stages, will take time.

Rebuilding.

That's the vision.

To reclaim, restore, rebuild up from the mess into something more fitting for a legacy.  A place for future generations to be family together and worship by the water.

And while it's a tedious and messy thing, we are convinced it's worth it.  We know it is.  Because we've done this before.  Not with property and buildings, but with life and family and relationships.  And every child pictured above, in front of the collapsed roof of the boathouse, is brilliant evidence of the outcome of that effort.

You likely have done it too.  Taken the time to sift through the rubble to see what's still good and meaningful and useful towards a vision of something stronger and better and more lovely.   Ignoring the comments of folks floating by who offer their thoughts and opinions without knowing your whole story or the enormity of what you're trying to attempt.  Writing out a new chapter in an epic novel that perhaps has had more than its fair share of tragedy and trauma, yet holding on with everything you've got for that better ending.  Not happily-ever-after, but true.

So that's our mess, more or less, and some of what's rising from the rubble these days.

For anything you're reclaiming, I wish you strength and tenacity and peace.  Take your time.