I want to tell you the story of when I went on a mission when I lived in Burundi to cover two cushions for my rocking chair. This chair is special. It isn’t just any rocking chair. I had it made in 1990, when my daughter Amanda was born. I rocked her and her siblings for many nights in that chair. At that time, I didn’t have cushions specially made for the chair. Because I had little money for cushions, I took two pillows and made do. I wasn’t fully aware of how important the chair would be in the days to come.
The Chair: Made in Zaire
The rocking chair was handmade in Zaire, now DRC, by an elderly man who painstakingly crafted each piece by hand. As I write, I am sitting in it, and I can still see some of the original marks of his saw on the arms of the chair. When we left Zaire, the chair followed me to Burundi, Zambia, the USA, Malawi, back to Burundi, and now South Africa. I tried, unsuccessfully, when we first moved back to Burundi in 2018, to purchase new cushions and cover them for the chair. The cushions first turned out to be too thin. I felt the slats pierce through the foam whenever I sat in the chair, making rocking an uncomfortable business.
Sweat equity for two cushions
It may not be obvious to you reading this on your device’s screen, but doing something as simple as covering two cushions is by no means simple in the developing world. I had to prepare myself for the process. Convincing myself that I would find exactly what I wanted for my chair, I bravely set out on my quest. After all, I’m not a novice. I knew that I would have to invest some sweat equity in the process. And I hoped, against hope, that I would be successful.
I began my quest by going to the “foam section” of our local market to get two pieces of foam cut to the measurements of the chair. Unfortunately, there were no cast-off pieces of foam for me that day. This forced me to buy a full mattress, from which I had the cushions cut. I left the market with cushions and leftover mattress pieces in tow and made my way downtown to where fabric is found.
Generally victorious
I visited store after store, struggling to find something gray. Unfortunately, I didn’t find anything I loved—just something I endured. By that time, enduring the fabric was good enough for me. I made my purchase and headed to visit a friend who wasn’t far from where I was in town. She was pregnant and could use the leftover mattress cuttings for her baby’s bed. I was more than thrilled that she was able to make use of the leftover pieces. Knowing her baby would have a clean mattress was more than enough payment for the day’s efforts.
I then brought the cushions to a local tailor and showed him the old cushion cover that had ties on the back. They were sewn in such a way that they could be tied to the slats of the chair, keeping the cushions in place. I explained that I wanted the same ties on the new cushions. He replied that this was a simple job, and he would be done the next day. This bit of good news lifted my spirits. I drove home and announced to my husband, Jamie, that I had been generally victorious in my exploits. The next day, we would see cushions on the chair; at least I hoped so.
I May Need A Chiropractor because of two cushions
As promised, the cushions did indeed find their way to me the next day. I gratefully received them, but I noticed something wasn’t right as I tossed them into the back seat of the car. The covers looked a bit misshapen, a bit loose, and frumpy. Back at the house, I set them on the chair only to find that they don’t fit as they should.
The ties I requested the tailor make to fit on the back of the chair were put in a strange place. They were just awkward, and I was unable to properly tie them to the slats. Since the cushions were a bit bigger than they should be by a centimeter or two, they sat at an uneven angle. This made rocking in the chair an uneven experience. I thought I might need a chiropractor to bring me back into balance after sitting in the rocker with crooked cushions.
They’re pretty bad
The only good news about the new cushions was the fact that I no longer felt the slats through the foam.
We stared at these cushions for a few days, both Jamie and I trying our level best to endure them. They weren’t really that bad, just off somehow. In addition to them being not that bad, replacing them would entail another trip to the fabric shops downtown. Who wants to go through that? I kept my mouth shut, knowing I got myself into this situation and should be the one who bears the load.
“They’re pretty bad.” Jamie finally spurted out.
“Yeah, we need to change those.” He declared with the force of a preacher (which he is).
Ready to pay extra?
This strange statement came from my husband, who has rarely said anything about home decor in our almost 40 years of marriage. Staring at him, I conceded that it was that bad and groaned inwardly. I wasn’t ready to go downtown just to cover two cushions again.
Realizing what I was thinking, he had an alternative solution.
“Why not go to the shop where we got our living room couch? They have nice materials. Let’s ask them to cover these for us. It can’t be that difficult for them to cover two cushions. I’m ready to pay extra!”
Ready to pay extra? My spirits were lifted, and a few days later, we hopped in the car and made our way to the shop. A young lady helped us pick a piece of fabric that would go nicely with what we have in our sitting room. I prepared myself to ask her if their tailors would be able to trim the cushions a bit so they would fit into the chair properly. Before I was able to ask, she said she would go and ask her boss if my fabric choice was acceptable.
That’s not how we do it
Acceptable? My “something is going to happen here” senses began to tingle. What could be unacceptable about covering these cushions with the fabric I had chosen? My senses kept tingling as she returned with her boss’s answer.
“As it turns out, you can’t cover two cushions with the same fabric as you want. You need to choose one color for the back cushion and another for the bottom cushion.“
We talked about the subject of cushion covers for a few minutes. I told her that if the chair was multicolored, it would look even more awkward than it already does. Why can’t it be one color?
“Because that’s not how we do it,” was her reply.
Fixing the chair
I left with my awkward cushions, resigned to my chiropractic fate, and sat in the car. I was desperate to find the good side of my misshapen and wrong-sized cushions. Jamie, knowing how much I love the chair, declared that he was committed to fixing it. His words brought tears to my eyes. I loved him for seeing me in that moment.
Jamie has disassembled and reassembled the chair many times over the years we moved around, knowing the memories I made while sitting in that chair run deep. Colicky tummies were calmed, prayers were prayed, and Christmas presents were opened while I was rocking my babies in that chair. Now that three of my four children have left the nest, the chair somehow keeps me close to them.
Looking a bit battered again
My sweet husband sees this and has always made sure we have taken care of the chair. We may never live in a fancy home or have a lot of money, but no one could ever love me more than this man who hears me before I say anything. Love like this is a gift from God, and it’s the gift of a lifetime.
As it turned out, the cushions did get covered in 2018 with a neutral gray material. Now that it has moved again with us, I’ve noticed that the cushions are looking a bit battered. The time is coming to recover the cushions.
“Devotion is as unyielding as the grave. Love’s flames are flames of fire, flames that come from the Lord. Raging water cannot extinguish love, and rivers will never wash it away.” Song of Solomon 8:6b, 7a GW
