Steeped in levels of cultural hero myth! We are, but I'd bet you've not thought that every day, there are moments of heroism, little opportunities, some missed, some fulfilled.
What is a hero... Someone told me a story today. A fellow I knew used to volunteer to be Santa Claus for the civic group he belonged to. He'd done this I guess for a few years and then this event took place.
He told me a story of volunteering, enjoying what he was doing. One day, before him stands a mother with five children. As Santa does, he greets each with the expected, but oh so welcome Jolly Santa smile and laugh, bades them to climb aboard the proffered knee. Each child in it's turn ready to share their secret hearts.
So begins the first round, the normal Santa small talk: "Well little one, Santa's so glad to see you. Come, sit here on Santa's knee. Do tell us, what's your name child? Were you a good boy, (or girl) this year? Obeyed Mommy and Daddy, did you? Well, what can Santa bring such a wonderful child for Christmas?
There's a small, but hesitant pause. The child, looks round a moment, leans over and whispers in Santa's ear. "Santa, what I'd really like is to have a home." This little one wears the expectant excited look of one who still believes in magic. Eyes glowing in a near state of grace. They are enraptured and enfolded in the promise we make to all the little ones in those days before that magic night.
I watch my friend as he relates this story. I stand and see the glint of something forming in the corner of his eyes. He relates making the awkward and painful promise to a child lost in the certainty of the true believer, that Santa will, "Do his best," to see it comes true. That day of miracles and grace for all children now worn like a crown of thorns round this young ones head. How do I know this? I see the pain and hurt in his eyes as he recounts those, oh so long and painful moments, as he fumbled for an answer, for this small one resting on his knee.
Did I tell you there were five children in this family. Each boy, each girl, asking for the same thing, asking each and every one of them, for a home...
Some where, deep inside me, I felt a wail, a pain in my heart as I suffered for those children, and hurt for them all.
In those last few moments as he finished, his eyes welled over, as did mine. I never want to hear a story like this again. Yet I know that there are so many stories out there like this one. How can it be, so many of us are oblivious to the pain of those who are so much like us, as to be us... "Am I my brothers keeper," was the cry of Cain. I can only answer, Yes, I am. Keeper, father, son mother, daughter to all those in my family of mankind.
How much longer my friend continued this I do not know. I am sure that on that day, in his effort to keep that dream alive for those children, he was as much a hero as any of us will ever be. Some how we struggle on to keep the faith, and in doing so help keep the flame burning for others... It's what a hero does!
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Oh yeah: my current site project/finished: http://vmcfalls.wix.com/verploeg-house
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