When I was little, Superheroes wore capes and masks. They had hidden identities. By day they were average….living life, blending in to the every day. By night they were doing the extraordinary. They were saving lives and avenging the wronged. Rescuing the lost and making wrong right again.
I have a different definition of Superhero now.
He doesn’t have a cape. If given the option, he’d wear a baseball uniform. All day, every day. If my small people aren’t scrambling for his attention, they are reading stories about him…. or someone just like him. He works in the office upstairs. He can often be seen in our front yard throwing pitches, coaching swings, shooting baskets, helping with homework, taking out the trash, or cleaning up the kitchen after I cook dinner.
He gets up at 4:30 in the morning to head to the gym… getting in that rare ‘me time’ before the day starts so he can have breakfast with the kids and be around for dinner.
He coaches his small people on their sports teams because he loves it. Soccer. Baseball. Softball. Basketball. I watch him juggle these full teams of kids – their talents, their feelings, their love of the game, their love of learning, their love of being involved. It isn’t easy. He does it because he loves the kids. And he loves his kids – watching them play – helping them grow. And he is really good at it. He has a gift.
Every day he wakes up motivated not only by what he has done the day before, but by the opportunity he has in front of him to help our little ones learn right from wrong, to be grow from good small people in to good big people, to prioritize family the way he has and eventually to don capes of their very own.
Or baseball uniforms.