My heroes

A hero – The classic idea of a man who gallantly rescues a damsel in distress.

In some way or form, all of these men have been heroes in my life:

Heroes I’ve met:

  • My husband. With his calm, quiet ways, taking on this crazy, up and down, enthusiastic and sometimes troubled wife, working all day and coming home to help with the dishes at night. He always prays with and for me.
  • My dad. Hard working and STRONG. He has had some physical struggles the past few years, but is still that strong dad– and always will be in my mind. I think of His fortitude and dedication to his faith, my mom and the farm.  Perhaps the only person I know as stubborn as myself. (Well, maybe brother Fred, too?)
  • My Grandpa B. Another super strong man but with the greatest personality and so generous. He will get his own blog post some day, but it’s hard for me to think or write about him without a few tears, because I still miss him.
  • Steve Schlissel. I first heard him speak when attending “Concerned Members of the Christian Reformed Church” meetings. He spoke up bravely in the middle of a dark time in the CRC. I spent a couple of weeks visiting with him and his family in Brooklyn when fresh out of high school.  The experience opened up my world and changed my life.
  • Uncle Dave B. He faced cancer with courage and faith. He lost the battle at age 39, but won the victory. He comforted others (including myself) in his last days. “The Lord is my Shepherd…”
  • My brothers. When it all boils down, they are there for me. They have rescued me off the side of the road  with car trouble at one time or another, and helped me financially when I was going through the divorce. My former childhood arch rivals.
  • My friend Greg. Greg was a hero to me after my divorce. He was kind to me and brought me back to the  gospel and who I was in Christ. He kept insisting I attend his single’s group, where I met other guy hero friends and eventually met my husband. Also a former arch rival.
By chanter Angelos Akotandos (1400 - 1457)

St. George the Dragon Slayer by chanter Angelos Akotandos (1400 – 1457)

Heroes I haven’t met (yet):

Three of my great-grandfathers. They made the brave choice to leave their home country in the Netherlands and travelled by ship to the United States in search of freedom and opportunity.  I met one of my great-grandfather-heroes and remember visiting him as a child, but the other three died before I was born.

C.S. Lewis, my author hero.

St. George the Dragon Slayer.  His story has always intrigued me.

Heroes of the faith.  If I had to pick a few favorites out of the list they would be Abraham, Gideon and David.

Jesus.  My ultimate Hero of all heroes.

In my distress I called upon the LORD; to my God I cried for help. From his temple he heard my voice, and my cry to him reached his ears. -Psalm 18:6 (ESV)

If you don’t know Jesus, here is a good place to start:  The good news

 Note: Don’t think I am neglecting my heroines!  I am currently working on a couple of posts about my grandmothers, and look forward to sharing them soon.


Writing prompt leads to a random memory of Grandpa & Grandma B.

Rcently while attending a Word Weavers meeting, we were given the writing prompt  ”Just know that….”.  The timer was set for ten minutes, and we all began writing.  This is what I wrote, slightly edited:

Just know that it will be all right in the end.

Grandma and I were sitting on her back porch on a sunny spring day.  We each had a tall clear glass of lemonade with orange slices, and were looking at the garden and the bird feeder.  Grandma still had natural blonde hair with a little gray on the side.  She was always attentive, always ready to listen, and always ready to share a story from her own life.

This time we were talking about my upcoming marriage.  Grandma was helping  by embellishing  the wedding dress.  Not only was I getting married, but I was also moving far away from home to Atlanta, Georgia, where my to-be-husband lived.

Grandma had also moved as a young bride on the occasion of her wedding over forty years ago.  She grew up in rural Iowa, but when she was 19 she left Iowa and moved to Michigan to marry my Grandpa, Henry.

It was at this moment that Grandpa joined us on the porch.  He was wearing his classic blue overalls, dark gray short-sleeved shirt, and his black work shoes.  As he greeted us he smiled his huge, hearty grin and touched the brim of his hat, first taking it off, adjusting, and then putting it back on again.  He sauntered over to the table and Grandma scooted into the house to get him a glass of lemonade too.  It was 10 a.m., time for morning coffee (or in this case, lemonade).

Grandpa looked at me with his small sparkling squinted eyes and said “How’s my pal?”  I smiled back and said “Fine!”

When Grandma came back out he told us he had hauled two loads of gravel to Galesburg that morning.

Grandpa & Grandma B. enjoying a scooter ride.

Grandpa & Grandma B. enjoying a scooter ride.


Comments are always welcome and appreciated.