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Dear Substack members,

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I completely agree Diana. A few years back I created small pillows, each unique, with a hand painted "Hope" on the front. My thought was everyone needs a little hope to hold onto. A friend texted recently and told me that the "Hope" pillow made the move. I think Jesus smiled with me.

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For /to me, hope is s kind of emotional/spiritual/visceral belief that sets you on a/they path to doing/agency: I hope, therefore I can (or, at the very least, I can try).

Another version, I suspect, of "S/he believed s/he could, so s/he did." (Attributed to RS Grey, a romance writer, in her YA novel, Scoring Wilder.)

Open to comments on this, however, so I'll be checking back o see what others have to say about the roll hope plays in...well, everything that actually gets done.

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Aug 8, 2022·edited Aug 8, 2022

Thank you. This was a lovely post. I have a practical question: which version of the Bible do you use/prefer? Thank you!

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Thank you so much. I wound up with my mother's "cedar chest," as she called it, with all of my sisters and my baby clothes in it, and some very similar mementoes, and she would unpack it much the same way. I never thought of it like that before. Thank you so, so much!

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When my father died, we four children sat around his treasure box, and one by one in turn we chose an item. It was a powerful experience for us, and when you, Diana, wrote "Things seen make real those things that are not seen" it described what I feel when I hold one of those little treasures in my hand.

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What a beautiful memory! I have always thought of a hope chest as a place a young girl gathers linens and trinkets to one day start to furnish own home. But now in my third third, with my daughter due to marry at Christmas, in fulfilment of *her* hopes, I shall start again with a brand new box of hopes and treasures! Thank you!

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Thank you, Diana. This brought back warm memories of my own mother and her hope chest which I enjoyed looking in it with her.

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Good post. Thank you!!

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What a great image, which I blatantly stole (with attribution of course) for this morning's sermon on hope.

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Aug 7, 2022Liked by Diana Butler Bass

Thank you. Your words opened up a sense of warm reverie that I had as a young girl in the goodness of life ahead. Your words also connect me beautifully to my own treasures that ground me in the families on both sides that I come from - life is never perfect, but memory evens out the rough edges, and your words bring me back to hope and faith in the goodness of life and trust in God.

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When I married my husband, his aging dad offered to build us something. I asked for a Hope chest. He sat with me as we sketched out details on graph paper and I got to help him put the finish on it. It accumulated mementos of our marriage and our 2 kiddos. 20 years later when hubs asked for a divorce he asked for the Hope chest - because his dad made it he wanted it to stay in the family. Sadly, I let it go. But it was the final broken link in the Hope that had been wearing away with every lengthier business trip he took.

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Aug 7, 2022Liked by Diana Butler Bass

Such timely thoughts ... I have felt a bit silly at times for the "icons" of faith, hope, & love that I keep - on my desk, on a stand by my bed, and in drawers or boxes. Small treasures from childhood that show the wear of 50+ years, momentos of simple moments and some moments that were life-altering (for good & ill). Well, silly no more! Thank you, thank you, thank you for reminding how hope, faith, and love can root in our experience and how experiences of them, however fleeting, are treasure!

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🐛🦋 Thank you.

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Thank you for this memory of your mother’s hope chest, one I share. Mine holds a remnant of my mother’s wedding veil, my children’s baptismal gowns, a frayed quilt and more — a hope chest that has become a treasure chest.

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Aug 7, 2022Liked by Diana Butler Bass

The symbolism of a hope chest has so many layers--and I've never quite thought of it this way. Thank you. It's curious, as I've kept a battered, green steel trunk that my grandfather gave me when I left for college. Now 35 years later, I still have it. For every move, whether cross-country or down the street, it's carried out, heavier it seems each year. Inside are the tens of diaries I kept as a teenager, then university student; also are photographs, letters, mementoes, and ephemera from here and there throughout my life. Mostly though it's stuff from my youth, and every so often, I open the creaky green trunk to peruse through what I wrote before career, family, experience. I'm always amazed at how idealistic--and hopeFUL--were my sentiments at that time, and it's a powerful reminder as to who I should continue to strive to be.

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