Charlie & the pink chair ~ part 2

This is a picture of Josh Hall, two of his amazing kids, and Lauri, the missions director at Fair Oaks Church—the day I first met Josh.

Josh was the senior pastor at Fair Oaks Church, and Lauri had shared with him that she had begun working with a new nonprofit called Hattie’s House. As Lauri explained the needs we had at the time, Josh went home and had a conversation with his wife, Kelly, about something very specific—the pink chair.

The pink chair is one of those incredible gliders. The kind you sit in when your newborn is fussy. The kind that quietly holds countless moments—late nights, prayers, tears, and the gentle rhythm of rocking a child to sleep.

But this chair was different.

Kelly had a deep attachment to it. She had raised her three amazing kids in that chair. She had rocked them, prayed over them, and lived so many sacred moments in it. Letting it go wasn’t easy. But in her heart, she also carried a desire—that it would one day become a blessing to someone else.

When Josh told her about Hattie’s House… when he told her about Charlie… and when he showed her the picture, something shifted.

Kelly knew.

That chair had a next home.

And it was meant for Charlie.

In the weeks that followed, after Charlie was finally released from the hospital, there she was—sitting in that very chair. Rocked in the same place where another mother had once held her own children. Surrounded not just by her family, but by the unseen love and prayers of another family who had gone before her.

It became more than a chair.

It became a connection.

A reminder that they were not alone.

Isaiah 41:10 says,

“Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

That promise was being lived out in a very tangible way.

For Meaghan and Bert, for Penny, and for Charlie, the pink chair became a place of rest, comfort, and healing. But it also carried the love of Josh and Kelly and their kids—a family praying for them, believing for them, and standing with them from a distance.

And all these years later, we still talk about Charlie in the pink chair.

What started as a simple act of obedience—letting go of something meaningful—became part of a much bigger story. A story of how God weaves lives together in ways we could never orchestrate on our own.

Josh and Kelly, like Bert and Meaghan, have become such an important part of our lives and the journey of Hattie’s House. Josh has been a huge encouragement within the faith community in Sacramento, sharing the story and helping others see the impact of what God is doing. He even stepped in and served alongside us for six months, helping us navigate growth and all the little details that come with it.

It’s amazing how God uses something as simple as a chair to bring people together.

2 Corinthians 1:3–4 reminds us,

“The God of all comfort… comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.”

That’s what the pink chair became.

Comfort passed from one family to another.

Love extended beyond walls and distance.

A quiet but powerful reminder that no one walks these journeys alone.

And maybe that’s the heart of it all.

In the middle of uncertainty, fear, and long nights, God is always at work—connecting, providing, strengthening, and reminding us that His presence often shows up through the hands and hearts of others.

So when we think about Charlie in the pink chair, we don’t just see a moment.

We see a story.

A story of faith.

A story of surrender.

A story of families brought together.

And a reminder that even the smallest acts, placed in God’s hands, can carry eternal significance.