Hickam AFB 2008
…we arrived in Honolulu just a few short months ago. There are only a few boxes left to store under the house and a few to empty into my hope chest that is now stored in my son’s closet. We are in a home one-third the size of our last, but we knew what we were in for and it’s been well worth it. As I tear into one of the last five boxes that are stacked on the lanai, I see the folder with the emails I had given to Steve for our anniversary a few years back. I had forgotten I had done that. We are reassigned every two or three years and each time we unpack, everything has to find a new place. The good in that is rediscovering treasures, the not so good is sometimes there isn’t room. There may not be room for my hope chest in our bedroom, but there’s always room for the treasures it holds. My Maw Maw Mary gave that hope chest to me when I was a teenager and it has traveled with me to every place I have lived. Each year new treasures are added so that one day when it is discovered by my children and grandchildren my treasures, my story will be there for them to discover.
I sit on the edge of the bed and open the folder to find an index of love letters from a decade ago. As our story unfolds in the series of messages I wonder how Steve and I ever found one another. I guess God’s Plan is God’s plan…
…we arrived in Honolulu just a few short months ago. There are only a few boxes left to store under the house and a few to empty into my hope chest that is now stored in my son’s closet. We are in a home one-third the size of our last, but we knew what we were in for and it’s been well worth it. As I tear into one of the last five boxes that are stacked on the lanai, I see the folder with the emails I had given to Steve for our anniversary a few years back. I had forgotten I had done that. We are reassigned every two or three years and each time we unpack, everything has to find a new place. The good in that is rediscovering treasures, the not so good is sometimes there isn’t room. There may not be room for my hope chest in our bedroom, but there’s always room for the treasures it holds. My Maw Maw Mary gave that hope chest to me when I was a teenager and it has traveled with me to every place I have lived. Each year new treasures are added so that one day when it is discovered by my children and grandchildren my treasures, my story will be there for them to discover.
I sit on the edge of the bed and open the folder to find an index of love letters from a decade ago. As our story unfolds in the series of messages I wonder how Steve and I ever found one another. I guess God’s Plan is God’s plan…
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