Hero: a remarkedly brave man (or woman); superman; champion; conqueror; defeater (for our purposes we will state this as being Jesus Christ); somebody admired.

In this ongoing series, where I introduce to you someone I know or have met, for the sake of avoiding controversy, a ‘hero’ will fit the definition above and by common sense be nothing more than human, but an extraordinary one at that.

In the times we are going through – unemployment, rising costs all around, broken marriages, abused children, neighbors suing neighbors – it seems that there is nothing good, nothing positive to be seen or to be heard. At least that’s what it seems like.

The other day I was thinking about this and decided that each month I am going to introduce you to one of my heroes. A valuable player on the team in my game of life. But – what exactly is a hero – to me?

“You look beautiful today, Tamara.
And that’s not just because I want to use your iPod
and because I need you to get me water.”

A hero, according to Webster is a mythological or legendary figure often of divine descent endowed with great strength or ability, otherwise known as an illustrious warrior. It is someone who is admired for their achievements and noble qualities and shows great courage and has become an object of extreme admiration and devotion.

Now, I know this person is not a mythological character but, is of divine descent, being a child of the High King. Because of her heritage, she has been given and has shown great strength and abilities and has indeed been an illustrious warrior. I admire her for her achievements and how she can show great courage in trying times and yes, she has become an object of extreme admiration and devotion.

“So God took cells and put them togetherlike legos to make us?

Do you think He pretended the cells were legos?

I bet he did.”

One of my favorite heroes is – my daughter.

Many of you know that she took a job offer almost a year ago, in southern California. Tamara, my daughter, works in a group home for seriously abused children. She oversees a home of +/- twelve boys and other staff members. In the last nine months, she has become a mother to several children who, more than likely, have not experienced unconditional love, safety, and other qualities of life we take for granted, usually on a daily basis.

“Tamara what did I do to get to go with you?

Cause whatever it was I want to do it again so we can go again!”

One of the hardest parts of her job is ‘becoming involved’. Beginning to realize that there is a place in her heart for these kids. Even after she has been kicked, called every foul word there is, punched in the face, walked around the buildings for hours in the middle of the night, and more – even after all that, she laughs and plays with these kids. She tucks them in at night and prays together. When no one else will take them in, they find a way into her heart.

She affectionately calls him ‘Munchkin’. He was seven when she met him and he was still seven when she had to let him go. That was the day I got a phone call, listening as she emptied her aching heart in front of me. That was the day I helped her carry her broken heart to the feet of Jesus. All I could do was listen. But Jesus… I know he can heal the brokenhearted.

“I’m gonna sue you guys if you don’t give me snack now!”

Munchkin was moved to another home because of someone else’s neglect. When Tamara returned from having a day off work, she returned to chaos. Her little Munchkin had been hurt and sent for emergency care to the hospital. She hightailed it to the hospital to see him. When she finally caught up to him, he had a big smile waiting for her, surprised that she would come to see him on her day off. Just him.

That’s what happens when Jesus gets a hold of your heart – you give it away and often, it gets beat up and bruised, inside and out. The only one who can heal that kind of pain is the one who took hold of it – Jesus.

“Tamara enjoyed waking up her boys this morning by bouncing on their beds.”

Tamara begins her day of heroism at 6 AM and wraps it up anywhere after 10 PM. It can be a day full of tension, sacrifice, brutality, and more. However, in the midst of all of that, you can hear laughter and see tears of forgiveness and experience love. It’s a love, you could say, that surpasses the comprehension of most people. She loves those kids – red and yellow, black and white – without reservation. “Her kids” she calls them and considers them her own, as a mother hen is to her chicks.

She may not be a hero in the sense that she’s saving the world like Superman and she certainly has no red cape or blue tights, but she is saving the world, one little-sized heart at a time. And that is definitely making a world of difference.

Seven year old: “Tamara, if you can read minds what am I thinking right now?”

Me: “Um, food?”

Seven year old: “Nope. That you’re pretty.”