Resting on top of the glider in our room is a pile of my clothes that I need to put away, hand-me-downs from our nieces that need to be parceled out between my kids, and my backup Halloween outfit. Now that it’s time for me to consider giving the glider away, I’ve realized that I’m way more attached to that chair than I ever anticipated….despite the fact that it’s currently only a place to throw clothes.
If you’ve ever read The Giving Tree, a favorite childhood book by Shel Silverstein, you know that it’s about a tree that gives and gives unconditionally throughout the boy’s life. While our glider is not nearly the same as the beautiful tree that symbolizes life lessons, I’ve come to realize that it’s similar.
That glider has given me a cushion to cry on as I rocked our girls for countless hours until they fell fast asleep. And for most nights during the first few months of life with twins, a frequent replacement for my actual bed.
That glider has given me enough comfortable space to sit with a baby on each arm as I rocked and rocked. And on the days when it was just the 3 of us, all day long, a perfect place to rock them until they fell asleep, and to stay until their next feeding.
That glider has given me comfort on the nights that I covered it with blankets, covered myself with towels and then snuggled in with my sick baby to sleep for the night, so as not to infect my husband or our other children.
That glider has given us numerous videos of our oldest child making her little sisters laugh hysterically as they tried to climb up to get to her, only to fall down as it rocked.
That glider has even given us the perfect setting for the age-by-month photos that we took as the girls grew.
What was originally an unknown necessity with my first pregnancy, has now become so much more than a chair in our room for rocking our new baby. Its significance is priceless. Not only have we spent innumerable hours in that glider getting to know our new babies, but it was given to us by a family friend, who has since passed, making it so much more meaningful even than just for its intended purpose.
That glider may only be a resting place for clothes today, but when I look at it, I see memories of the past four years. Sharing it with another family is our intention. In the meantime, using it as a “quiet place to sit and rest,” just like the boy does at the end of The Giving Tree, will become its new, and valuable, purpose.