Heroes

My dad is mine. He always has been, and always will be.

Here is why.

As a little girl, whenever I got the flu my hero would let me sleep in his bed, and as I rested, he had his hand placed gently on my tummy, as a reassurance that I wasn't alone and that he would be there to protect me. 

Also as a spunky little redhead, we would play this family game called "muffin child". I was a scrawny little thing and my dad would sit on the ground, and raise me above his head. Jamiin and Devin had to try and "get" me (whatever that means). They never "got" me because my hero always made sure that they couldn't. 

As a teenager, my hero always took an active role in getting to know my friends. He wanted me to be surrounded by the best people, and I am SO grateful that he did.

As a young woman, my hero has ALSO taken an active role in who I date. Even when I was attending college out of state, he would want daily updates on my love life. :)

On my mission, my hero sent me weekly letters that I desperately needed. Messages of hope, testimony and experience that gave me the push that I needed to continue when I didn't think I could. 

Since June 2013, when I returned home, I have seen some rough times, but my hero has always sent a meaningful text at the start and end of each day. 

Each of these experiences play into why my Dad is my hero, but there is one act, the most heroic of all, that I want to share.

Since October, my hero has been really sick. The tables turned to where HE was the one in distress....but I couldn't rescue him like he always rescued me. No, this time, we BOTH needed rescuing. I remember the first time I saw him in his hospital bed, October 15, 2013. I could hardly step into the room. My heroine, my Mom, had her arm around me and led me to my hero's side. I half expected him to open up his eyes and smile at me, letting me know he was ok. But no, his eyes didn't open....he didn't smile. I so desperately needed him to know I was there for him. I took his hand and said,"Hi Papi, I love you." 

I guess I didn't expect anything in response, and as I watched his face to see a flutter of his eyes, or a flicker of a smile, I didn't see anything. My senses were so acutely tuned to any physical response, that if they hadn't been they would have missed the softest, weakest three hand squeezes that he gave.

That is one of the ways we say "I love you" in our family. Three hand squeezes. He told me he loved me. With all that we found out about his health in the days that followed, it became more and more clear to me that my hero fought through pain, weakness, fear, fog, and even death just to tell me he loved me. And he has continued doing so for the past 100 days. 

The two greatest heroic acts that have ever been performed are these:

First, when my Savior gave his life for me.

Second, when my Dad chose life, for me. 

And that is that. I am one blessed gal. Today I am grateful to spend the day with my hero. He is doing so well you guys. We had a crazy hectic day yesterday, but today, he rocked everyone's world by walking 2500 feet in 25 minutes. WITHOUT resting. And, *spoiler alert*, there is talk of him going home, (with a boat load of assistance) in a couple of weeks. 

Yep. Thanks, once again, for listening. :)

With love,

The Baers

My hero and I, as he did his physical therapy today!