"All heroes are shadows of Christ." – John Piper
"I am Firestar!" my 8-year old yells to her brother stretching her hands to the sky. "I am Spiderman!" he yells back casting his invisible web. Oh, to transform myself into a super hero and use my powers to make time stand still or zap the dishes from dirty to clean!
Seriously, I wonder what super hero I would be these days though. Laundry Girl? The Stain-Fighting Ninja? The Incredibly Tired & Aging Spider-Veined Woman?
The other day, I asked my kids who their heroes were. I was surprised by their answers.
My 8-year old said a prayer warrior friend of ours was her hero because "she prays for us." My oldest referenced a "gutsy" relative who recently returned to parenthood to raise her grandchildren. I nodded my head to both. Then, my 9-year old stopped me in my tracks when she said I was her hero because "you help us and love us."
What? Me? Hero material?
A hero is born when frightening challenges and unwavering sacrifice meet. Sacrifice, however, is born long before that one moment. It is conceived and grown in the relentless, unglamorous self-denial of the everyday. We do this day in and day out as women and followers of Christ, but we forget that loads of laundry, prayers prayed at the dish sink, and constrained words on a computer screen are often the makings of heroism itself.