I am 4 years old, with short brown hair and big wondering eyes. I hold the hand of my mother as we walk toward the yard sale. I remember it was early and the sun shone down on a gorgeous southern morning. We head to the spread out blankets, and there I spot it. A little rocking chair just my size. It is cheap, beige, plastic, with a rung loose .I sit down and my little heart thrills with hope. I am instantly smitten. I sit and rock my baby doll . I am totally content and begin to sing a lullaby. I lose myself in my pretend world. I don't escape notice for long, my mother and the neighbor begin to talk to me, "what a sweet mommy you will be" said the neighbor. " Yes she will be a great mommy she rocks all her babies to sleep". I hear them and secretly thrill at their words, but I am content just to rock and imagine.
I am 9 years old ( and not nearly as cute as when I was 4) My hair is scraggly and and my teeth are very crooked. my brother and I are visiting my Grandmother's house for the summer. She has an old rocking chair. It is black with gold stenciling, it is covered with comfortable cushions. Just the ticket for rocking and listening to her tell stories of her childhood. We rock and she talks and I listen. Then I chatter nonsensically, and she listens, but it is the alone time with her that I treasure. Before I go to bed she braids my hair. It was such a simple act, but it made me feel like a princess. The chair now sits in my bedroom, and every time I see it my mind goes back to that summer when I had my Grandmother all to myself for a whole week. I will never get rid of it, it is an icon from my childhood and symbol of family that I cherish.
I am 20 years old and a new mother. My husband and I are in the process of settling into our new on base housing. One of our first purchases is a beige glider and ottoman. As soon as it is set up I rock my newborn son and slip into a comfortable rhythm. My son doesn't seem to care for the rocker like I do,and promptly deposits his lunch on the arm. It is OK I bought in beige to hide stains. The rocker and I have been together now for 4 years. It has rocked 3 babies and is now in shambles. My mother keeps dropping not so subtle hints like " Wow you need a new rocker." "David does't Briana DESERVE a new rocker" "Gee the cat really did destroy that pocket didn't she" "Is that another stain?!?!?" " Maybe we can recover it with new fabric?" "Lets staple the loose fabric back on." " That rocker sure is rickety." I haven't had the heart to tell her, rickety or not, the rocker is staying until it can't rock anymore.
If the rocker could talk it would tell tales of late night feedings, and teething, and sick tummies, of nightmares, and lullabies. Just last night, all three kids piled on my lap , and we rocked and read books until I was almost hoarse. I think the rocker would also tell a story about a mom who made peace with motherhood. It took quite a while for me to find that peace. I did not find it,reading mommy message boards, or listening to the latest child rearing advice. I found it when I took an honest look at my life, and realized that I am exactly where God wants me to be. I am also doing exactly what I have always wanted to do,building a family with the man I love. It isn't glamorous,and I am not particularly good at it, but I love it.
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