Heroes

Posted Jun 17, 06:16 PM by Kay Camenisch

The Webster’s dictionary says that a hero is a man of distinguished courage or ability, admired for his brave deeds and noble qualities. That’s a good definition, but I also like a recent statement I heard, “Our heroes are people that start out nothing but become great.” My father is that to me. He came from a family with twelve children that struggled to make ends meet. He started out as nothing, but he made a difference in the world. He became great.

He was my hero when I was a young child, but when I reached the age that my parents didn’t know so much anymore, I took the pedestal out from under him. It took some years for him to reach the hero status again. It was a gradual ascent. I’m not sure just when or how it happened, but I became aware of it in the year before his death.

He liked people, and was quick to make friends. However, debilitating strokes stole his ability to communicate clearly, garbling his words and scrambling his meaning. For fifteen years his words were often meaningless—he might call a boy a dog, a girl, or a baby—but that didn’t stop him from talking. People began to avoid him because they didn’t know how to respond. However, as frustrations abounded and his world shrank, he continued to be kind and friendly to those around. He didn’t let his handicap get him down.

As his ninety-second birthday approached, it became clear that Daddy’s life would soon be over. His body was no longer producing enough blood cells and he didn’t want any more transfusions. He was ready to go to his eternal home. Only God knows the number of our days, but realistically, it seemed he had two, maybe three, months with us.

We continued to travel to see and encourage him, thinking the end was near. But he was the encourager. He kept going like the Eveready bunny—even after doctors were saying, “I don’t know what he’s living on.”

The head nurse said, “I’ve never seen anyone with such a strong spirit.”

He was so weak he couldn’t sit up in his wheelchair, but he continued to get out of bed nearly every day. More than five months after he chose to not have more transfusions, I went for a visit. Thinking he’d be too weak to feed himself, I looked forward to the privilege of feeding him.

I found him sitting at the table eating his breakfast. He wouldn’t eat while I was there. He was too concerned about me, whether or not I had eaten, and would I like his banana. a piece of his biscuit, or something to drink. I had to leave the room so he would finish his breakfast! He died two weeks later.

I’m grateful for my father. He became great—became my hero—through his distinguished courage. He never gave up. He started out as nothing and he became something.

My father is not my only hero. I have another. But He started out great and became nothing. He started out at the right hand of God. In fact, He was one with God, but He laid that aside. He gave it all up so He could come to earth in the flesh.

Jesus became nothing so we could become something.
However, because He humbled Himself, He has once again been lifted up.

He says that the least shall be the greatest. If we follow His example, and humble ourselves, do you reckon we could become somebody’s hero?