Dear Sisters -

"Sis, is this yours?" I wasn't sure at first. I couldn't tell exactly what she had seen that would have provoked that question. After all, Mom's attic was packed. I couldn't imagine what my sister saw. Hidden among the clutter and the years of boxed memories and keepsakes, my sister spotted a mysterious wooden chest. We began to move boxes from on and around the chest. It soon began to take on a familiar look. I still was not sure it was mine. At first glance I told my sister that the chest did not belong to me. She insisted that it did. We hurriedly pulled every obstacle out of the way so we could take a look inside. The contents inside would soon reveal who the chest belonged to.

As soon as we opened the lid, the mystery was solved! The contents screamed that it was truly mine. My sister and I sat on the attic floor and began a treasure hunt into my past. We pulled things out one by one, analyzing each item and giving commentary description about them and puzzling over why some of the things were in the chest. It was obvious that my hope chest was stuffed with items connected with my life's journey. We found my tiny pink baby shoes with a single tiny pearl button on each strap. There were photos of some of my high school friends and keepsake papers from high school. I found a tiny gold bracelet and other special jewelry. We marveled over those special items. Then there were some crazy things like a soap dish shaped like a bathtub. Apparently that was a souvenir from one of our childhood trips. It is truly interesting what you choose to collect as a child.

My hope chest was stuffed with so many items, many of which were treasures from my Grandma's house. She was an antique collector. When we were little, she would invite us to go around the house and pick things we wanted to inherit one day. Grandma would follow us with her roll of masking tape and an ink pen. As we would select certain things from her shelves, she would pull the item down and then she would tear off a long piece of tape. We would watch her stick that tape to the bottom of the item and with both of us as eye witnesses, she would write our name on the tape. We would clap and dance with celebration and clutch our arms tightly around her waist and give her a big thank you squeeze. She would put it back on the shelf and say to us, "Someday this will be yours." She meant it, too. All these many years later my hope chest is filled with items she had labeled. What's even more special to me is to see her handwriting. It gives me a warm memory about this amazing woman.

I can actually remember where some of these items came from in her home and remember standing there as she wrote my name, claiming the precious gift just for me.

My hope chest was filled with some valuable items, some silly ones, some funny and some beautiful. Every single item was put in there by me for a very special reason. Amidst the variety of things and at the center of it all was the reflection of my heart's sweetest passions and sentimental intentions. It contains many of the things that were important to me at that time in my life. Generations ago the hope chest was used as a place to collect necessary things that young girls would need for getting married, such as linens, bedding, quilts and bridal gowns. Mine was used to keep childhood keepsakes safe until I left home and to hold safe the treasures from my favorite place, Grandma's house.

I didn't fill my chest in the typical sense, that's for sure. The adventure of unveiling the contents of the chest now as an adult took me down a very special memory lane. I have unpacked the chest and carted everything to my home. I will soon go back to my Mom's attic and bring my chest home. But, for me, it will remain empty. I plan to use the things in my chest and put them to practical use, yes, maybe even the bathtub shaped soap dish, just for fun.

My hope and heart strings have changed. Though I love the song my hope chest sang inside, my heart sings a new song of hope. Now it's time for someone else to fill the chest with a new song. It's time for my daughter to begin a collection of her own hopes and dreams. I don't know what kinds of things she will choose to save. My guess is that she will look back many years from now and marvel and laugh and cry at what she sees in her chest of hope. She will most likely have a similar experience just like I did. But, at the end of the day, it won't be about the stuff inside. It will be about an old song of hope. Because she is a Christian, Christ fills her hope chest of life with a Living Hope. His song to her might be a different tune and maybe different rhythms, but the lyrics, well, they will be exactly the same

"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. According to His great mercy, He has given us a new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that is imperishable, uncorrupted, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who are being protected by God's power through faith for a salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time." - 1 Peter 3:3 - 6

Now, that's an inheritance worthy of taping your name to, with the handwriting of the only One who really matters. How about sticking that in your hope chest, sisters!