The Glider

The cool, damp air settled hauntingly upon my skin as I rocked back and forth in my brown glider. So many memories creak to the surface with each movement. This chair has traveled from one room to another, from one baby to another. It has helped nurse the children back from hunger. It has helped nurse the mother back to life.

In a dark corner of the nursery, it sat strong and steady. The leather was cold from a midnight chill as a tired mother climbed unwillingly into its embrace. The baby’s cries were loud and unrelenting, the mothers sighs were soft and defeated. They rocked until two pairs of eyes slowly shut only to wake to the dim morning light peaking through the curtain.

For months on end they rocked through the night. The dark was powerful and unkind. A poor, helpless child seeking the comfort of his mother and a tired, frustrated mother seeking the comfort of her bed. But as the chair creaked back and forth the mother and child slowly surrendered.

The child surrendered to sleep, and the mother surrendered to the growing pains of life. And with each rock back and forth, faith was born until the light of grace flooded that dark corner with joy. As the child grew to big for the chair, the mother cherished each passing movement.

One night, the glider stood still. There was no more crying baby or tired mother rocking him to sleep. There was only quiet. And in this quiet the chair understood that his job was complete. A child had been nursed and loved and a mother had been held and supported.