My Heroes

Doug watches a show on TV called Heroes. It’s one of those bizarre, way-out-there shows about people with special “abilities.” I never got into it. Doug also watches Smallville, a modern-day tale about Superman in his younger years. Not being a fan of science-fiction or fantasy, I don’t watch that one either. I did watch the old Superman TV shows – who didn’t? Who could resist a guy who could always find a phone booth where he would transform from mild-mannered Clark Kent into a superhero who was faster than a speeding bullet and could leap tall buildings in a single bound? I always thought it was pretty funny that no one recognized him as Clark Kent just because he wore glasses, but I once failed to recognize an old friend after he shaved off his beard, so maybe I would have been just as unobservant as Lois and Olsen. (But then they were reporters, after all.)

In the past few years, there have been more movies made about superheroes than I can count, and for my husband’s sake, I’ve endured many of them, though I drew the line at Transformers. I’ll admit that I even liked Spiderman – that one had a real story – and Iron Man was pretty funny. But I prefer real heroes over fictional ones.

Like Julie. Julie is a fellow church member. Her husband Keith is disabled and spends most of his days in a wheelchair, even though he is about my age. He cannot work and neither can Julie, whose full-time job is taking care of Keith. Needless to say, money is scarce for them. Keith’s last bout in the hospital left him with an extremely weak immune system, so they have been quite isolated the past few months. Their main companions are the cats they love and the alpacas they raise on the little bit of land they own. We were all surprised this past Sunday when Keith came into church with his walker, wearing a mask to avoid catching germs that could be fatal for him. He and Julie came in late and sat in the back. The woman sitting next to me in choir nudged me when she saw them and said, “That is just sad.” But Julie always has a sweet spirit and a genuine smile on her face.

Then there is Henry, another church member, and his wife Linda. Henry lost his first wife to cancer after faithfully caring for her for many years. Later he met and fell in love with Linda, who is about two years older than I am. Shortly before they were to be married, Linda discovered that she also had cancer, and it was bad. Not wanting Henry to go through that again, she lovingly tried to let him “off the hook,” but he would have none of that. They married and have been a sweet and loving couple that always hold hands and exchange loving glances while sitting in church on the pew in front of us. It’s been rough. Linda has been through chemo twice, and now it looks like she won’t win this fight. But Henry is right there by her side, and her faith has been an inspiration to the entire church. We all love them. When Linda lost her hair, all the ladies in the church wore hats one Sunday as a show of support for her.

I have other heroes, like my dear friend Vivian. Vivian is one of the most giving, unselfish people I know. When a single friend of hers adopted a special needs child, Vivian helped raise the boy, babysitting whenever her friend needed a break. She and Ken became his second family. Later, Vivian took her mother-in-law into her home and cared for her until she died of liver cancer. Now she has her own aging mother in her home and keeps her grandchild during the week while her daughter-in-law works. She has done all this willingly and without complaining. She is the best grandma I know.

All caregivers are my heroes. There’s my sister, who took her mother-in-law out of the nursing home she hated, and cared for until the end of her life, even though she was a difficult woman at times. And my cousin's wife Janice, who cares for her mother who has Alzheimer's, her grandchildren, and now her great-grandchildren. And my mother-in-law, who befriended an elderly woman whose children lived in another state and were uninvolved. She visited her in the nursing home faithfully until she died. My friend Charlise took a great-aunt into her home and cared for her many medical needs until the end because there was no one else to do it. Now her husband has taken over the care of their aging pastor who has Alzheimer’s. I’m not sure I could ever be so unselfish as to take on the care of someone I have no familial obligation to!

These people are true heroes. They don’t make blockbuster movies about them. They don’t get much reward in this life, but they have earned a crown in heaven. I only hope that when I find myself in the position of caregiver, which I probably will soon, I can have the same sweet spirit they have all possessed.