I can remember being a little girl and being mesmerized by my mom's hope chest. In my memories, it was a black chest with an upholstered top. I remember the top was an unappealing pattern, and we were often forbidden from sitting on it. I always stood in amazement when my mom would open that chest. I was convinced that she kept hidden treasures in there, and she did. She would often pull out special jewelry, blankets, or baby clothes. I loved dreaming about the contents of that hope chest.
When I finally got married and moved out I knew that one of the things that I wanted most of all was a hope chest of my very own. I had the perfect image in my head. I would look longingly at other people's hope chests and wish for my own. In Hawaii, it just isn't practical to buy one, and besides, most of them were not what I wanted anyway. My mom offered me hers, and while the idea was certainly there, it wasn't going to work to try and ship it out here. Thus the joys of living in Hawaii, where everything is more expensive, lesser quality, and so much further away. I was pretty certain that I would not be the proud owner of a hope chest any time while I lived in Hawaii.
Slight tangent here, but it will all come together in the end, promise....
I moved to Hawaii in 2005 right after Brandon and I got married. I HATED it here. I was miserable, and all I wanted was to get off the island, and fast. I was counting down the days that Brandon had left until we could get out of the Navy, or at the very least the island that was keeping me so far away from my family and friends. Of course, my HATE didn't last forever. For awhile, but not forever. I started to make friends, we started going to church, we started going to a weekly Bible study. I actually started to like it here, at least a little bit. I eventually got pregnant with Jared, and we made the decision to re-enlist in the Navy for 3 more years and stay in Hawaii (GASP) for shore duty. Of course, the longer we stayed, the more we got to know that people that we were around.
I know I talk about him a lot, but Papa Dan was one of the many people I actually started to get to know the longer we stayed. One of the things I learned was that he was a master cabinet maker back when he lived in Canada. He had made hope chests for both of his daughters back there. I loved to listen to his stories, and often dreamed of him making me a hope chest. It's a big favor, so the dream stayed just that, a dream. Except, one day, my dream blurted out of my mouth and I found myself asking Papa if he would help Brandon make me a hope chest. I was shocked that the words had been spoken, and waited with my breath in my throat for his answer. He smiled, his wonderful smile, and said "sure".
From there were spent some weeks just formulating what I wanted, how tall, what kind of wood, what color, what I wanted the top to look like, the bottom, everything. I never knew so much went into the making of a hope chest. Finally we went shopping for wood. He picked out the "perfect" pieces that he thought would look best. He brought over all of his wood working tools, and together, him and Brandon started the process of making my dream. I watched eagerly everyday as things came together. I was overly critical and sometimes unhappy with parts of it. They told me to go away and wait until it was done. But how could I????
They started in December, they ran into a couple of issues, but finally, on Friday, they finished it. It is mine! It is my dream. It is exactly what I wanted and I could not love it more.
Two of my favorite men fulfilled a dream I had had for years. I can't wait to start filling it with the treasures that I hope some day my children will love as much as I loved my Mom's.
My three favorite men, and my hope chest
The plaque on the inside
From the front
The drawer
From the side
Open from the side
The cedar on the inside
Isn't it beautiful!!??
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