My Grandma’s cedar chest sat underneath her bedroom window. On hot summer days I would sit on top to catch a cool breeze while reading a Nancy Drew book. The contents were a mystery my inquiring mind always wanted to solve. On occasion Grandma would unlock the chest and share with me beautiful pillowcases she cross-stitched, simple tablecloths, and even baby booties from a child lost. Grandma called it a cedar chest, some say hope chest. Young women in {Read More}