Granny’s Cedar Chest

Granny’s cedar was like a treasure chest.
It was full of beautiful things.
Beautiful things she had collected over the years.
Beautiful things that were “too special” to use;
she was saving them for the perfect occasion.

Granny had an eye for a bargain, that is true, but more than that, she had an eye for things that were unique and beautiful.
She searched stores for many of her treasures, though many were family items.
When she brought something new home she took much care to place it in the “cedar chest” where it would remain safe;
where it would remain in perfect condition;
where it would be ready for use on that perfect, special occasion.

When my Granny died, I went through her cedar chests with my Father – she had several by now.
It made me cry to see the glorious treasure she had carefully and lovingly collected over the years.
Treasure she never enjoyed.
I suppose she enjoyed knowing she possessed it, but she never took it out and used it. I have wondered about this over the years.
Was this treasure of hers special to her just because she had it?
Did she ever own anything she wanted to use?
Did she look at some of her treasure and have a memory that went along with it?
Why was it so important to have beautiful things that sit like a treasure – unused?

I believe that Granny enjoyed the search for her treasure. I believe she enjoyed knowing it was there.
Though the thought of unused treasure – waiting for a special occasion – makes me sad, maybe just knowing it was there was all the pleasure she wanted from her treasure.

I look inside myself often these days.
I am searching for answers to questions about myself.
Why does it bother me so much that Granny never used any of these beautiful things?

I think about parts of myself I have hidden away like a treasure
“too perfect” to get out of my treasure chest.
I have spent years collecting my dreams and carefully placing them in my treasure chest.

Here in my treasure chest, my dreams will remain safe.
Here they will remain in perfect condition never to be found fault with; never to be shattered into a million delicate pieces.
Here my dreams remain a possibility.
Do I dare take them out?
Maybe if I just take out one of them and try it on for size.
Could I do that?
Could I trust myself to be careful with one of my precious dreams?
If the dream gets tattered or tarnished, I can still keep it.
It will still be beautiful in my eyes.
Maybe a bit of wear and tear will change it into something more beautiful than I could have imagined.
Maybe just taking it out and letting it have the opportunity for fulfillment will turn it into something incredible;
Something beyond my wildest dreams.


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