Having heroes is great. When we pay attention to people who have come before us, and made significant strides in this world, it helps us be courageous too. This week I had the fun of listening to a classroom of children who have been reading about memorable figures in history. They told interesting facts about those icons, dressed up like them, made posters of them, and celebrated their achievements. The range of fame stretched from the late eighteen hundreds to the most recent inauguration. The arenas of contribution to society spread across athletics, science, environmental issues, film, and royalty. The whole day was enjoyable for the children, delightful for the adults, and I will be so bold as to say satisfying for the heroes themselves. Surely on some level they sense that a third grader somewhere in Pennsylvania is emulating them. 

 

While no one mentioned it, most of us in the room understand that these people are not perfect. The trajectory between flailing in school and creating the most successful theme park in the world was not straight. Amelia broke records, but she died pursuing them. Diana was revered by millions of adoring fans, and yet perished in a car crash being chased by paparazzi. 

 

We can look up to heroes that live closer to home. Ones you will not find on wikipedia. There is a couple that goes on walks each evening, not so much for a destination but as a metaphor for their shared journey. When I drive by them it reminds me of the sweetness of having John by my side. My aunt was widowed for decades, and still held her husband as her best friend, one who influenced her every day. I hold her memory close to my heart, in the off chance that I too will be alone. The couples that first told me about marriage groups are my heroes, and impacted both our life but those of the couples who have joined one we invited them to. 

 

Then there are the heroes that are nine years old. The ones who are willing to dress up in goofy clothes just to celebrate someone they have never met.