Rockin'

I'm writing from my rocking chair! It fits just perfectly in my room now. (see previous post) I love this chair. Matthew bought it for me when I was pregnant with Mackenzie. I've rocked and nursed babies in this chair for hours on end. I've read books in this chair, cried tears in this chair, and consoled myself with some serious rocking.

It's first home was our trailer in Graceville. That's where we spent the first six months of Mackenzie's life. This chair was where I learned to breastfeed and where I got through post partum depression. I can still smell the sweet smell of baby, and feel her sleeping all warm and curled up in a tiny ball on my chest.

Next, it moved to the Gapway house. There, it lived in Mackenzie's bedroom. It was a Paddington Bear nursery, and this chair sat by her bed and rocked her every night until after she weaned at two years old. We rocked through my dad's heart surgery and through spending our days caring for him. We rocked through three years on staff at a church with no pastor.

Next, it moved to the Galloway Road rental house. It waited patiently while we built our house. It also sat still, unused during a horrible time in our marriage when I could barely think or move. I now wish I had written during that time, but sadly I lost almost a year of life in a frozen emotional arctic. Not even my chair helped then.

It came out of retirement when it moved into our new house in Tropical Manor. It was placed directly into the baby nursery where it readily accepted the warmth of a new baby boy. I accepted that warmth too. It brought the end of a painful pregnancy and the thaw of that emotional ice age. There it rocked my Levi by his bed. I would nurse him and sing to him about trusting Jesus. Some nights I would rock both my babies. Five year old Mackenzie sitting on one side with her head nestled under my neck, and tiny little Levi in the crook of my other arm.

Then, it moved to seminary. It had to take a more prominent place as living room furniture then. But I held onto it. After a while, our seminary apartment was just too cramped and it moved to Matthew's office.

Our post-Katrina apartment had no room for it, so it stayed in Matthew's office. I visited whenever I could and still stole a few minutes here and there to sit with one of my babies or just by myself.

Now, it has moved again but this time it's all mine! The rocker is by my bed in my room in a perfect location for reading, praying, thinking, blogging, or whatever I happen to be doing. I actually came in here frustrated, intending to write a scathing blog about something else entirely, but the smooth, happy rocking motion got my attention instead.

If I've learned anything over the last few years, its that stuff doesn't matter and I really think I have a healthy attitude toward stuff. And if I had to, I suppose I'd let go of my rocker. But I really, really don't wanna. I love this chair. I love how it makes me feel. I love the memories it holds and the secrets it keeps. Every girl should have a chair like this.