Another Post from Sarah. . .

Sarah: On Saturday afternoon we left the poor thing with his dad--his dad who makes him do hard things. Harder things than buttering and syruping his own french toast. I left with a little bit of trepidation, hoping that dad would rub his feet and remember to brush his teeth and would be careful of his head.

Early Sunday morning my sisters and I headed down with Grandma Peck and Charlie's uncle Sheridan. When we arrived, Charlie was sitting up and eating his fifth bowl of fruit loops.

He was energetic and jokingly complaining about how terrible it was with dad! Everyone knows that our dad is the biggest tease, and having his jokester of a brother around only fed the fire. Things got louder and crazier after that. The whole neurotrama unit was rocking with the laughter and shrieks. Uncle Sheridan had us all in such stitches my sides started aching. There were jabs and counter jabs and Charlie more than held his own.

                          What did the tomato say to the mushroom? You look like a fungi.

Just as Charlie's pizza and milkshake arrived for breakfast, physical therapy arrived and made him get out of bed and into his wheelchair. After a few minutes of sitting up, happy Charlie disappeared. The low-pressure headache came back and he was crying and yelling that we had to lay him back down.

Apparently, dad talked to the doctors and today he was supposed to tough it out. So dad and his physical therapist held firm and made him stay in the wheelchair while we went for a walk--with Charlie crying and yelling the whole time. We checked out the rehab gym, which looks like quite the fun place, but Charlie was having none of it.

We were supposed to keep walking for a bit, so we wandered down to the first floor where a harpist was playing. All of a sudden, Charlie was silent. And peaceful. And we all just stood there around the harp and listened. And listened. And felt the peace that was almost tangible.

Charlie even talked about  it later, how impressive that harpist was and how beautiful the music is. One more reason Primary Children's is so great.

We stayed there until it was time for the 30 minute church service at the hospital. Charlie hadn't been planning on going, but he was so calm and quiet that we did. I haven't been able to go to church for about the past month that I've been in Europe, and I felt so good walking into that auditorium turned chapel. In my blue jeans, around other parents and family members of patients, I got to take the sacrament and remember the One who suffered more than even any of us combined could ever imagine. I realized again just what that sacrifice of His meant. More than just taking away my sins, He was the only one that could take away our pain. More than offering forgiveness, He is the only one that can offer any hope at all. Love conquers, life is renewed, families are eternal, and joy is everlasting through the life and death of my Savior.
There, amid the soft beeping of someone's IV pole, I felt God's love for me and my family.

Charlie didn't start yelling or crying again the rest of my time there. After more teasing and joking and laughing until I thought the nurses were going to ask us to stop bothering everyone, we had to say good-bye. Being with his dad is definitely good for him, especially when it comes to being tough enough to push his body to heal, but I take a lot of comfort knowing that he's missing my foot massages. :)