The name is quite fitting. Hopes are stored away in that chest. Dreams have nestled their way into the corners and will stay there for some time before they are awakened from their dormancy. Dust will continue to gather; new objects will be lovingly placed inside and sit...and sit.
But the name is fitting in another way. See, hopes don't always end up coming to be, and this is the risk in a hope chest. She piles it full of things that might be of use someday, but that day may never come. She expects to marry someday, of course, most girls do, but some are not set aside for this task. Some never unpack their hope chests. Some have another calling.
Hope is expecting something, anticipating in it. She certainly expects and anticipates marriage, but she cannot see the big picture.
For now, the dark wood gleams, and it is an admired piece of furniture, but it may not always shine. It may be tucked away in an attic somewhere, or used as a coffee table. It may be unpacked in a new home, with her husband nearby, and it might not.
But this isn't something to be scared of. "Oh, how sad!" one might think. No, certainly not sad. God's greater plan is much better than any we could ever have. He is the Master Storyteller, Who's stories always turn out best. Singleness would not be a punishment; not in the least, it would just be different.
The rambler is convinced that it's better this way. If we knew for sure, either way, we would do everything a bit differently, and the curiosity is half of the fun. Will she wed, or not? Will her husband even like the things she has so lovingly stored, or will they be replaced with newer things? How will her story end?
There's something about a hope chest... It is the object of hope, not certainty.
Over and out,