What Makes a Hero?

It's Saturday, and most people relax on Saturdays. But because I stayed up late last night finishing Mom's birthday present from Evan and I, I overslept. Oversleeping does not make me a hero because I almost missed my massage therapy appointment. An interesting development there was that a student was "observing," if by "observing" you mean poking me in the butt, the jaw and shoulder when Rhonda told her to. Interesting. That does not make her a hero, either.

This afternoon I had a friend come visit - Paul Hizo. He joined the Marines right out of high school, had amazing stories from boot camp and being stationed in Iraq. He was injured in Iraq and came home last year, has gone through extensive rehab and has an indomitable spirit. He was nearly the only Christian on his base in California - a position I can't even imagine, as I attend a Christian university. His faith has brought him through intense circumstances - things which would have turned me into a bitter woman had I experienced them, but he is happier and more pleasant than hundreds of people that I have encountered in my life. He specifically said to me that he does not regret joining the Marines, even though he will suffer from his injuries for the rest of his life. He'd do it all over again. That, my friends, is what makes a true hero.
He wants to go to college to become a Math teacher. I would love my kids to be in his class.

My last hero for the day is none other than Madeline Grace Forman. When her mother and I were talking about Grandma's birthday cake, Maddie piped up from the backseat: "I want my own birt-day cake, Mommy." Emily informed her that that was not an option.

Mom and I are leaving for AZ round about 6:30 in the morning tomorrow, hitching a ride to the airport with our dentist. Being in Arizona by noon will be worth it.