A Father's Tribute

I suppose every boy remembers the days when he dreamed of being the hero. Whether it is the blanket and safety pin used to make the cape, or the front yard where the World Series was won numerous times by one swing of the bat. Every boy wants to be the hero.

There is something inspiring about wanting to be the cowboy who rescues the lady from the villain; or the knight who comes to the aid of the fair maiden; or the superhero who rescues the lady from the clutches of the villain. Every boy wants to be the hero.

I am not too sure the boy ever outgrows wanting to be hero. The boy may one day become a man, but he still wants to be the hero. The cape may become tattered and the baseball fantasies fade into oblivion. But he still wants to be the hero.

For most of us, heroics are not borne on a World Series size platform. Heroic credentials are not given through death-defying feats of superhuman strength. There are no spotlights and television crews as he receives his reward and recognition.  

Rather, a hero receives his credentials as he does the daily grind of being a father to his children.

 For me, that begun 23 years ago today. Not with an earthshattering event where I swept in to save the moment. But by simply being the first one to cradle a little girl in my arms.

Today, my mind is filled with memories of holding her hand while she received stiches following a skating accident. I had the privilege of quieting her cry as she suffered from yet another ear infection. I was the hug she desired when that boy broke her heart. We wept together following the death of my father – her Pappy. None of these contained spectacular moments of death-defying feats where buildings were leaped and bullets were stopped. Nonetheless, when the eyes of my little girl captured mine, hers were written with the words “you are my hero.”

So you can keep your mask. I don’t need an ‘S’ on my chest. I no longer desire webs to shoot out of my wrists or a bullet proof car. I have been a hero. Her eyes have confirmed it.

Kendall, today you turn 23. You are going to work, pursuing your nursing degree, and planning your wedding. Your love for the Lord is an example for all to follow. Your beauty and grace encourage all who are around you. Your smile is infectious. My little girl has become a beautiful young lady. I couldn’t be more proud.   

So you keep pressing on. Keep running the race. My coming to the rescue may be less needed now than before. You no longer have dolls to fix or berets that need to be reshaped with a pair of needle-nose pliers. The training wheels have been removed from the bicycle and you can get your own bowl out of the cabinet. But just so you know, I will keep my cape close – just in case you ever need a hero.

Happy birthday baby girl.