I worry too much about summing up my life. Here is the truth: I can’t, and it’s none of my business!
I also waste time fantasizing about doing some great, heroic deed to try to make up, at least in some degree, for the great evil I’ve done in my lifetime. You know the sort of thing I’m talking about: rushing into a burning building to save a baby, rushing an active shooter, that sort of thing.
But such great opportunities rarely present themselves. The truth is that I have lots of opportunities to do good every day. Perhaps the heroisms of little things matter. And how do I know that I would rise to the occasion, if the occasion for serious heroism were to present itself? The horrible massacre in Orlando has provoked much reflection on my own lack of courage.
I was talking about these things with a friend as we enjoyed coffee outside a local coffee shop. I had just confessed that I doubted I would act heroically if the opportunity presented itself, when there was a loud explosion right behind me. I turned around, prepared to run in the direction of the explosion.
However, it turned out that it was merely a semi driver who had curbed his tire. The tire had blown out.
Well, at least in this case I was prepared to run toward danger, rather than away from it.
But the rest of the day was filled with little things. No more explosions. Helping my wife in the garden, reading, helping twelve-step friends, waiting tables in the evening.
Heroic? No, I don’t think so. But perhaps I need to redefine the word heroic. Perhaps the real heroes are the ones who consistently do what needs doing at any given moment. Perhaps it is precisely the people who will never be interviewed on the eleven-clock news, who are the real heroes.
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