Rocking with Daddy

“Think of crawling up in God’s lap,” I wrote my friend, who was going through a difficult time in her life. “Just lean in on Him, like you’re secure in a daddy’s love.” In suggesting that word picture, I was thinking of my own dad and special memories of his favorite red tapestry rocker.

Though the memories are fuzzy, like the yellowed photo I have of him in that rocker, I still remember climbing into his lap for story time. I’d gaze at the book pictures as his voice rumbled the text and his foot tapped a steady rock. Before long, I’d fall asleep to the rocker’s comforting swing.

After I grew up and got my first job, I furnished a cheap apartment with a lumpy twin bed, a dining set mended with duct tape, and a sofa that had popped a spring. Because of warm memories of my dad’s rocker, I knew one more thing would make it “home”: a rocking chair.

On one weekend visit home, Dad took me to a local unfinished furniture store. An already-varnished floor sample rocker beckoned. I leaned into its high back and tapped a rock. I wanted it, but hesitated. I was already paying off a car. Reluctantly, I left it at the store.

Three days later, I called Dad. “If it’s still there,” I said, “please get it. I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.” The next night he phoned. “The rocker’s gone,” he said. “Oh,” I groaned. “It’s sitting in our living room,” he teased.

That rocker would follow me to three states over the next decade as I worked and attended college. Dad was always a phone call away for car advice, wisdom for troublesome roommates, and support of my career goals. I know he and my mother prayed for me.

I was 31 and still single when he died of a heart attack, six months after Mom’s death of cancer. As I cleaned out their home, I reluctantly sold his worn-out rocker. After all, I had now my own rocker. And in those dark months of grieving, I’d often go there to read my Bible and pray….and rock. At such times, I almost felt like God was holding me.

Three years after my parents’ deaths, I married. Within a few years, I became a mother and used that rocker to cuddle and comfort my babies. Eventually I sold it to make room for a mauve velour rocker, soft and big enough for two small children to snuggle on an adult’s lap.

On nights when my husband gathered our children in the upholstered rocker for bedtime reading, I’d watch and remember my childhood. I will never forget Dad’s welcoming, secure lap as we sat together in his favorite rocker. In that simple act of earthly parenting, he modeled the amazing father-love of God.

I am saddened when I hear of people who do not have loving earthly fathers. Yet that is God’s plan—that fathers deeply care for their children. In Psalm 103:13, David wrote that an earthly father’s compassion for his own children should be as God’s compassion on His spiritual children (“them that fear him”).

Even as an adult, I still need my spiritual Daddy. When my world becomes frightening or confusing, I know He’s just waiting for me to come to Him. And often, it’s in my current blue rocker, imagining the comfort of His loving arms as I read my Bible and pray, that I experience His peace.