Written July 2025
There is a store about two hours from Atlanta called Unclaimed Baggage. The store is exactly what the name suggests. It’s full of luggage that has been left at baggage claim for too long. Eventually, it’s shipped to this store in Alabama, where the team unpacks it all and resells the items inside. Sounds wild, right?
But think about it.
Think about the last trip you took. What all was in your suitcase? I had Lululemon joggers and a pair of Mother denim jeans, all things that would make for a great resale. Now imagine walking into a store full of those kinds of items, all at a discount. For my thrifty people out there, it’s a dream come true.
But here’s the real question we’re probably all thinking:
How in the world does someone forget to claim their bag?
I travel fairly often, and it’s never once crossed my mind to not go to baggage claim. I’m sure there are some one-off situations: canceled flights, emergencies, airline mix-ups, but still, you walk around this store and see it overflowing with unclaimed things and think: How do this many people forget to claim what’s theirs?
How do we forget to claim what is ours?
I think you and I leave things unclaimed more than we realize. Not suitcases at the Delta terminal, but the rightful things that belong to us if we are in Christ. Could it be that the very thing we long for the most is already ours for the claiming? I would never try to simplify the complexity of life or the pain we experience on this side of heaven down to just: maybe you aren’t taking something. But this quirky little store in Alabama has had me thinking: What invitation is hovering over my life right now? What is mine to claim? What is yours? Are we leaving it unclaimed?
“I always thank my God for you because of his grace given you in Christ Jesus. For in him you have been enriched in every way—with all kinds of speech and with all knowledge— God thus confirming our testimony about Christ among you. Therefore you do not lack any spiritual gift as you eagerly wait for our Lord Jesus Christ to be revealed. He will also keep you firm to the end, so that you will be blameless on the day of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is faithful, who has called you into fellowship with his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.” 1 Corinthians 1:4-9
For months now, I’ve felt creatively stuck.
What’s interesting, though, is that if you asked my coworkers, they’d probably say I’m creative all the time. And in many ways, that’s true. I have a job that requires quite a bit of creativity, ideation, and communication. So it’s baffled me, how can I be flexing a creative muscle so regularly, yet still feel so stale in my thinking?
But here’s what I’ve realized: It’s not that I’m creatively stuck. It’s that I’ve lost the wonder of it all. There’s a hesitancy to dream and imagine. Not just in my writing, but in general.
And yet, I ache for it. To create something not for anyone else, but because I find Jesus in that space. To spend hours lost at a keyboard, giddy as I piece words together. To lose track of time, because time stands still when I write. To write that one magical sentence, even if it means backspacing a thousand times before it. To think about the “what-ifs.” To try something out of the ordinary. To not be so calculated. To be confident in what I love. I know what all of this feels like. I have done it all before. I just don’t know where and when I lost it.
But this type of wonder…
this type of dreaming…
this type of imagining…
That is being childlike.
That is not something I want to leave unclaimed.
This is actually mine to reclaim.
Recently, I decided the spare bedroom in my house needed some color, so I painted the walls green. But it was more than just a color. The kitchen in my childhood home was green. And when I see green, I see the younger version of me, sitting at the kitchen table, scribbling in a journal. That little girl loved to write. She loved to dream. She had no issues saying she wanted to be a writer one day when she got older. I’m not quite sure where she’s been for the last few years. But we’re going to go find her.
I am going to reclaim childlikeness.
Why? Because my Father in heaven tells me that it is mine.
“For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!” Romans 8:15”
Go on, claim what is yours.