I hate our “celebrity” culture, the one that exalts the “glitterati” who have contributed nothing, let me say that again, NOTHING, of significance or substance to our society.
I’m not talking about our collective fascination with who’s in or who’s out on American Idol. I get that. That’s just fun.
Nor am I critical of the attention paid to the minutia of our athletes’ or political figures’ lives. They have worked hard, dedicating years of practice or knowledge acquisition to get to the highest echelon of their craft. Good for them. We disregard their privacy in a quest for feeling connected to them, or “in the know” about them, as if we’re one of their closest friends. Silly. Delusional, really. But for most of us, most of time, harmless curiosity, harmless adulation.
They are not who I’m talking about. You know who it is. The people who show up on the cover of magazines and late night talk shows. They seem to come out-of-nowhere; overnight sensations, they get quoted as experts and regarded as authorities for no understandable reason other than their questionable skill to speak while on camera. Will you please join me in ignoring them?
My tolerance for them has evaporated, especially these days.
These days, I am surrounded by everyday American heroes.
People who are caring for their sick and dying loved ones, and still show up at work when they can, with a smile on their face. Persevering.
People who have lost their homes to fire or flood damage, and are thankful that all they really lost was “stuff”; they are THANKFUL that no one really got hurt.
I’m blessed to work among such people. I’m humbled by their resilience.
Last night, we went to a funeral, a common activity these days.
This one was different. Britta Grace Johnson was exactly twenty-one days old when she died. Her mom and dad, Kelly and Tyler, knew her time of grace on earth would be short. They lived her life to the fullest, holding her and finding pure joy in every moment they spent with her, inspite of the heartache. They were surrounded by hundreds of friends and family last night, celebrating with them the joy of sweet Britta and her triumphant arrival in Heaven.
Kelly and Tyler are not in the glitterati class, they aren’t wealthy, or athletes, so their story won’t be told anywhere but here.
But it should be.
The faith and strength of this young couple to hold each other together, and pray their way through this journey should be exalted and applauded.
And I bet, now that you know about it, you’ll join me in uplifting them with your own prayers. That’s what everyday American Heroes do.