They were called “hope chests”—those large cedar storage chests where we hopeful young girls stored what we would need for our future households. In years past, preparing for our future included embroidering dishtowels and tablecloth sets, crocheting pillowcase edging and doilies, and knitting afghans. Filling our hope chests was an expected and honorable pastime.
We often started as early as 6 or 7 years old, coached in simple embroidery and crocheting techniques by patient mothers, grandmothers, and aunts. The time spent sharing the wisdom, experience, and knowledge of the older generations, provided the most valuable lessons of all.
Needlework skills were incidental to the love, encouragement, and confidence that were woven into the fabric of our lives during those sessions.
We prepared for our future days of the week by embroidering dishtowels with designs depicting a predictable work schedule, like a day planner on cotton. For example, Monday was wash day; Tuesday– ironing, Wednesday—mending, Thursday– housecleaning; Friday was for going to the market. Saturday was set aside for gardening and, of course, Sunday was for church.
Tablecloths and pillowcases were often designated in advance for use according to the month of the year. January required embroidering a scene with snowmen or ice skaters. February brought valentines; March sported shamrocks, and April included umbrellas and the raindrops that brought the May flowers, and so on—not unlike the calendar hanging on my wall. How neatly the days of the week and the months of the year were defined; how welcome and reassuring were such preparations.
This past month, I have been in a similar mode of preparation. Anticipating this coming year, I have been filling in my wall calendar, desk calendar, and my day planner. Like hope chests for the coming year, they help me organize and store my plans, obligations, celebrations, even my hopes and dreams.
I reluctantly admit that these same calendars will also hold the unexpected events of my life—some happy surprises, some times of sadness and pain. I confidently write in ink the birthdays and anniversaries of family and friends. I tentatively write in pencil projected vacation slots and other variables.
We do our best to prepare for the future, but life does not fit neatly into little squares, nor does it confine itself to twenty lines in a day planner. I learned early on that sometimes I had to use my Thursday dishtowel on Tuesday because my washing machine was full of diapers on Monday. Also, sometimes April umbrellas adorned pillowcases in February because I was too busy to pay attention to such details. But, that is also what makes life so wonderfully intriguing and the beginning of a new year so stimulating and enthralling. I may not be able to see the future, but I welcome, even embrace what comes, prepared and empowered by the faith, hope and love shared by family and friends—from the past, the present and those who will arrive in my future.
Renewal and fresh starts are often associated with the spring. However, for me, anticipation emerges in full bloom at the beginning of the year. Maybe that is what Robert Browning actually had in mind when he wrote, “The year’s at the spring and the day’s at the morn, God’s in His heaven, and all’s right with the world!”.
