The All Too Tattered, Well-Used Rocking Chair

One of my favorite things about being a mom has been soaking up those precious moments snuggling with my daughters in the all too tattered and well-used rocking chair.

With a six-year-old and a three-year-old, our moments spent together in this chair are happening less often. Yet my husband and I still can’t bring ourselves to remove this piece of furniture from our home or our lives.

When we moved Abby from her crib to a big girl bed, we were forced to move the rocking chair out of her room.  There just wasn’t enough space for it there. Now it sits in our living room near my computer desk.

From time to time, my husband will plop down and rock, chatting with me while I’m typing away. And every once in a while I will sit there alone in my thoughts and sway comfortably in the sun that’s shining through the window over the cozy, torn cushions.

Our rocking chair definitely causes a profound reaction whenever my husband or I sit down in it. Both of us admit to always being flooded with sweet memories and emotion. The precious seat tells a story. Our story.

It tells of the very first time I sat in it when I was pregnant (very pregnant) with Faith. It whispers memories of sleepy breastfeeding and bonding. It reminds us of those middle of the night puke fests when our kids threw up all over us, all over our pajamas, all over the chair, and all over the floor. (Remember when there wasn’t an immunization for rotavirus?)

It tugs at our hearts when we think of the many countless hours spent reading bedtime and naptime stories, comforting, shushing, and rocking our little ones to sleep. More recently, my three-year-old and I have started rocking together again. It’s not about changing habits. It’s just lovely!

She has attempted to give up her daytime naps, yet still needs them so desperately. So I’ve convinced her to sit with me in the chair and work on High Five magazines together. It won’t be long before we’ll have to start with some serious homeschooling activities, but for now, we’ll stick to the magazine.

When we get through the magazine, she quickly drifts off to sleep and I get to either rock her and soak up the beautiful scent of her skin, the sound of her breathing, and the angelic peacefulness of her face, or I lay her down gently on the couch nearby and type blog posts about how much I love her. Sometimes I do both. Today is one of those days.

Years ago, when I first sat in this chair at the furniture store, I had no idea how permanent this purchase would be. Or how much of a lasting impression it would leave on my heart.

For that matter, I had no idea how much I would love being a mom. I’m so grateful to God for trusting me with our children. They will eventually grow up and leave home.  I dread that day, yet also dream of it, wondering who or what they’ll become. But even after they’re all grown, we will still never get rid of the rocking chair. Maybe we’ll save it for some rainy day activities.

Almost seven years (so far) of sweet, adoring, blessings have been poured into a simple piece of furniture. It’s our story. Our memories. Beautiful. Comfortable. Tattered. Precious. Unending and Unconditional Love.