I inherited my Aunt Helen’s cedar hope chest. I don’t know when or where she acquired it, but I know she outlived three husbands. I suspect it once held dishes, sheets, towels or bridal trousseau—traditional items stashed away by hopeful bridesto- be. Aunt Helen’s hopes of being a bride were fulfilled.
When the chest came into my hands it contained ribbon-bound letters, photo albums, scrapbooks, journals and various bric-a-brac— family history I treasure. I never had a traditional hope chest of my own.
My hope is stored in my heart, my chest—my spiritual hope chest. Pun intended. I’ve been betrothed to the Lord, my Bridegroom, for over sixty-five years. Many times I’ve added treasures to my hope chest—to return to when I need help keeping hope alive. I long for the waiting to be over—for the Marriage to take place.
Closing my eyes, I lift the lid of my cache of memories and scroll through the years of correspondence with my Bridegroom. His Book, His letters, and my journaling of our conversations have kept us in steady touch, keeping me secure in His unfailing love. He has promised to come and take me to be with Him.
As the Psalmist wrote: So each generation should set its hope anew on God, not forgetting his glorious miracles and obeying his commands. . . The Lord’s delight is in those who fear him, those who put their hope in his unfailing love . . . I am counting on the Lord, yes, I am counting on him. I have put my hope in his word.
I’m now compiling a book of stories of His miracles and faithfulness that I’ve stashed away over the years of waiting for my Beloved. I'll leave these treasures behind in Aunt Helen’s hope chest as an inheritance for my children . . . and their children.
Psalm 78:7; 130:5; 147:11 NLT