The Rocking Chair

By Gina Locke

Preparing for a move across the country left me with a number of decisions. One of them was what to take along. We were traveling by plane and owned few material possessions, so we planned to simply mail out a few of our most precious among them.

Whatever happened, our rocking chair was coming along somehow! That chair was purchased a few months before the birth of my oldest daughter. Shortly before her conception, I'd been diagnosed as infertile, and shortly after her conception, I miscarried. Then an amazing twist happened.

I was devastated, while the doctor was nonchalant and quoted facts and figures. However, my blood work came back abnormal, and an ultrasound showed what had happened. I'd miscarried a twin and was still pregnant!

After purchasing the rocking chair, I sat there trying to imagine myself as a mother. The idea seemed unreal. When she was born I was totally unprepared for the wonder of it all, and was amazed to find that I had it in me to love without reservation. That baby had my heart the second I laid eyes on her, and we spent many long hours in that rocking chair, singing lullabies and gazing at each other. She was the first person I told I loved and meant it with my whole heart, and it happened in that chair.

Her two sisters came along and also spent many hours being sung to and rocked to sleep.

Over the next few years the chair changed from a place to be nursed and rocked to sleep to a place to run to for comfort over a skinned knee, a torn stuffed toy, or one "those days" we girls seem to claim exclusive rights to.

After a while though, we all grew. My lap got shorter and the girls' legs got longer, but once in a while we'd still curl up in it and sing. Those moments got further and further apart, and the rocking chair got pushed into another room to make way for desks for our home school. It gathered some dust, but nobody really seemed to notice...until we started packing for our move.

A few short days before the big move the girls and I started talking about the chair as we moved it over during our cleaning. We laughed at some things, smiled at others, while yet other memories caused us to hold back sniffles. Suddenly I realized it wasn't the chair that was so important, it was our love for each other that counted, along with the memories. That chair could break or get burned in a fire, but it wouldn't change anything in our lives that was or will be.

Instead of taking the chair with us, I called the Pastor's wife at church and asked if they could use it in the nursery. They gladly accepted.

I am glad to know that other babies and mothers will get some use out of it. I can only hope that in the moments those moms spend with their babies in that chair, there will be at least one time when they look down at their little child and become overwhelmed with the sense of pure love and blessing that can only come from the heart of a parent when they realize what a wondrous gift the Lord has allowed in their lives.

"Lo, children are an heritage of the LORD"

Gina Locke writes from Grants Pass, Oregon. chipoet@gmail.com