Hope Restored

When I was 16 my parents gave me an antique cedar chest. In it, I stored the things that I made for my future household: tablecloths, napkins, a misshapen quilt, along with other bric-a-brack I had accumulated and decided that I would have one day in my home. Which, according to this vintage 1948 ad for this chest, that's exactly what you're supposed to do with it. For now and for always, apparently...

When the bottom dropped out of my life just two short years later, I would jokingly say that I didn't have a hope chest... I had a chest of broken dreams. And I have hauled that chest to seven different houses, lugging around ghosts of the past and heartache right along with it. Over the years, I have been neglectful of its contents. It kind of became a catch-all for crap I didn't know what to do with. The shelf on the inside, broken somewhere along the way.  

I've been going through The Artist's Way with my friend Dana. It's been an amazing journey, and I would have given up two weeks ago if it wasn't for her plugging along with me. But I digress. Here in week four I found the thought of that hope chest simply unbearable. It wasn't just the 'bad juju' I could sense was associated with it, but I really just thought the chest could be put to better use. I was literally seized with the search-and-discard impulse.

When I moved into Cliff's house, I had gone through the contents and purged a little here and there, but some things I just couldn't part with. Yesterday I found myself wondering what that Sara had decided was absolutely critical. I didn't have to go far. Sitting on top was an old shoe box stuffed full of old letters, and reminders of painful memories.

As I continued to dig through the contents, I found a few journals, all of which chronicled a dark time. A really dark time. I read through them, and I could almost feel my heart shrinking inside my chest. I guess I held on to them as little reminders of who I really am - lest I forget. As I dug deeper, I found a few things from my childhood: old stuffed animals, a lone Christmas ornament, and my prized Precious Moments coffee mug collection (ha).

Interesting that all of that pain, darkness, and heavy nostalgia has just been hanging out in our living room. A crypt. A shrine to my past giving a perverse homage to the awful things that happened, and things that never were. Now, I don't buy this new age stuff that goes along with The Artist's Way (I know better), but if I did.... I would say that the energy emanating from that chest wouldn't exactly be the most welcoming or nurturing to "goodness" or "spiritual light" or whatever it is that we're supposed to be opening ourselves up to. I do believe there is a powerful memory association with stuff, though. And there is a strong spiritual element that goes along with it.

Long story short: I filled two garbage bags to send to the dump, and hauled the rest off to Goodwill this afternoon. 

There were a few things that I did keep. My three little plastic Care Bears from the 80's. The dolls, letters, and patterns from my grandma. Old photographs. My Great-Aunt Millie's china. An afghan. A cross-stitched pillow that my mom made. And a smattering of other items that flood my insides with good memories, and yes... a little bit of light.

I stood there for a while and gaped at the completely empty hope chest for... a while. I don't remember the last time it was totally empty. The physical and spiritual weight of all that stuff just rolled away, like water off a duck's back. I called Cliff to look at what I had accomplished, and after examining the half-broken shelf, he took a hammer and nail to it and fixed it up. 

Just like that old chest, I feel emptied out and hopeful. There is plenty of room for lots of good things.

 

 

Comments

[Dana]

That's not an empty hope chest. That's potential. And I love that it's got a little bit of cliff in it as part of that potential.
And like you, I don't believe in no bad karma...but I believe in demons. That's one mean exorcism you had there.

Happy new life!

[Pattie]

I loved reading this, Sara. I loved that Cliff fixed the broken shelf. What a great metaphor!

Thank you for sharing this personal story.

[Sara]

Yep, yep. And AMEN.

[Sara]

Thanks Pattie Pie. I thought that was pretty cool too (Cliff fixing the broken shelf, I mean). God is good. Period.