Holding Out for A Hero(ine)

I’m really so sad about this man in the news.

Photo credit.

As you might know from this post we are obsessed with the Olympics. When Mr. Pistorius ran in London this summer, all five of us cheered until our voices cracked. I cried when I heard the humility and grace with which he handled the press.

And now he is accused of murder.

Mitch was absolutely frantic for an explanation. “Maybe he thought there was a bad guy in his house, Mom. I’ll bet that’s it. He probably thought he had to protect himself.”

I so, so hope he’s right.

This whole thing made me start thinking about heroes, how precious they can be, how much light they can bring to a kid looking for inspiration and hope.

Here’s one of mine.

Tracey O. Here she is gamely posing with the photo of a man who we wanted her to marry. She wisely did not, though she did humor a group of junior high girls by holding his photo and a fake bouquet. Note: 1989 was a rough year for hair. Tracey succumbed to the mullet, and darn it, I did too.

Note the height. And the floral turtleneck. I was VERY CONFIDENT in this ensemble. Teal gave me confidence back then. Teal and lots of White Rain.

So Tracey was a youth group worker at my church and she spent hours upon hours with me, mentoring me, laughing with me, praying with me. She taught me how to survive a shaving cream fight, how to laugh and ski down a hill at the same time, what to treasure in a friendship, and how to pick a good husband. She did it all, people.

I owe her. I look at my own kids and pray they will find a Tracey to guide them through the rough waters of middle school and high school. I’m planning on being here, too, but there’s just something about a non-parent mentor, right?

Thanks, Trace. You’re the rock star of rock stars. A heroine in the most complete, human sense of the word. I’m such a fuller, wiser, kinder person for having walked beside you. May the God you taught me to love rain down blessings on you for the gift you are to me.

(And may we never, ever give in to the temptation of a mullet again.)