The Old Chest
| Published March 30, 2014 |

By Michael Sigler
Thursday Review contributor

Deep in the woods, abandoned on a moss covered rock stands an old weather worn chest, looking very out of place among the shagbark hickory and tangled ground. In spite of its demise this old chest still retains a semblance of dignity as it holds court on its rocky throne.

If this old chest could talk, how its contents would be full of old stories and wonderful adventures; with great swellings it would tell of the time it shared a cabin with a sea captain, traveling distant lands, being filled with dozens of treasures from mysterious ports.

It would mention with happiness the days it once belonged to that very same captain’s children, surrounded with multi-colored toys, stuffed bears and the imaginations of a young child. As the children grew, it then became the hope chest for a young lady in waiting, filled with beautiful items for a joyful life. Sooner or later with sadness, the old chest outgrew its usefulness. Now with straps broken, hinges rusted and bottom rotted by a hundred rains and a dozen seasons, it sits in a forgotten corner of time.

How much are we like that old chest? In the beginning we start with God’s word bright and shiny, full of new adventures taking us to every conceivable corner of the universe. It becomes, for us, the hopes and dreams of a child with a toy, as we learn its familiarity. Soon it becomes the hope for the future, and even as we wait for the bridegroom, the expectant bride.

Somewhere along the journey that precious word is set off in a corner. Neglected and unused it gathers dust from years of inactivity. The dreams and hopes begin to fade and die so soon we can only speak of what could have been or what used to be, like an old chest, sitting in the forest.