Resting is good, when needed. Rushing is necessary, when needed. I’ve not done the research, yet easy does it can be a predicted response. You are handed a wee child, maybe even a swaddled one. Your arms begin a back and forth motion as you bend over and make cooing sounds. If a sitting down place is required, one hopes the piece of furniture that calls forth peace is close by, a rocking chair. Anything more than rhythmic placidity is usually connected to a rambunctious young lad and the results are disastrous.
Comfort and purpose are tied to my early rocking chair memories. Ours was half of a pair that were foundational in our living room. One was a 1920’s chair with wooden arms and legs and a half top that matched the padded seat. The rocker was its twin except for the curves that enabled the motion that defined the chair.. Some adult sat in that chair providing me with a lap to settle on. I was read to or bandaids were applied or maybe I just rested a head on an available shoulder. In the winter my daddy moved it to the bedroom in front of the then permissible gas stoves. He rubbed vaseline into chapped hands and leaned forward to let stove warmth melt the grease and ease the stiffness of arthritic fingers. Scoot the chair back just a little and it was still close enough to provide a cozy spot to read the Baton Rouge Advocate to wind up the day.
Just a moment rocking chair remembrance is a time or two my preacher birth dad would take my brother and me though the swamp to a bleached wood house built off the ground to avoid flooding. A long front porch was lined with wooden rockers of the same bleached grey wood. Women sat in them and held small children. Men lined up propped up against the front wall by one leg bent to brace them, and their arms were crossed over their chests. We slightly older children sat at the edge of the porch and swung our legs in the darkness to the same rhythm of the rockers as we sang hymns like Blessed Assurance. No tune could outrun what would match the rockers.
Fast forward. David and I did get our own family rocker from one of his brothers as a wedding gift. I sat in it to do needle point and all the raising children chores. Middle son moved it to Corpus. It was stollen from the back of his truck in the return move and for a while we were without. I retired from Kinkaid and a rocker is the gift instead of a gold watch. The front has the emblem of the school and the back has a plaque that says “In Grateful Appreciation of Charis Smith.” Every morning before I dash into what rush requires, I sit and move slowly. Chair motion doesn’t disturb reading or writing or praying. I can lean forward for ease of getting up and going forth. At night it is waiting as a place to recall the actions of the day, always gently and quietly. The chair is part of making the place to accept the invitation that is offered.
“Here’s what I want you to do: Find a quiet, secluded place so you won’t be tempted to role-play before God. Just be there as simply and honestly as you can manage. The focus will shift from you to God, and you will begin to sense his grace.
Matthew 6:6
Let Me Tell Ya 