For as long as I can remember, I had wanted a wooden rocking chair. I remember admiring their majestic grace when I was young, and I dreamed of the day that I might own one. To me, these grand chairs spoke of an established home with parents and grandparents who would take up residence in the rocking chair, and all would be well. While I was pregnant, I purchased a beautiful rocking chair from a friend, and looked forward to rocking back and forth with a newborn baby curled up tight and tucked under my chin. However, once my daughter was born, I found that this rocking chair was not as comfy or as conducive as I had hoped to relaxing nursing sessions where I might slip gently from wakefulness to sleep and back again.
A few months ago, I replaced the beautiful rocking chair with a second hand glider chair. It was well worn and previously loved by another owner, but I knew that it would be perfectly comfortable. This chair that rocks and reclines has become my favourite chair. It's the place where I sit while my daughter tries to climb up onto the windowsill and point at every house and car that she can see. It's where we sleep when she is congested with a cold and needs to be upright. I have prayed and sang and laughed in this chair, and while it might be a little ugly, I love it.