People start asking what you’ve accomplished. They ask about milestones, careers, houses, businesses, titles. They measure life by what can be counted.
Then my son Colin handed me a birthday card.
Inside he wrote:
“I think a hero is an ordinary individual who finds the strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles.”
— Superman
Then he added, “Happy 50th, Papa.”
This card has sat in front of me on my desk for months.
I’ve probably picked it up and read it twenty times.
Because somewhere along the way, your definition of a hero changes.
When you’re young, heroes leap over buildings.
Then life introduces you to mortgages, funerals, failures, disappointments, sleepless nights, raising kids, building businesses, making payroll, praying for people you love, getting knocked down more times than you’d like to admit, and somehow getting up the next morning anyway.
Turns out that’s where the cape belongs.
Not on the person who never struggles.
On the person who keeps showing up.
The older I get, the less impressed I am with talent and the more impressed I am with endurance.
Anyone can be extraordinary for a moment.
The rare people are ordinary on Tuesday morning.
They get up.
They keep their word.
They love their family.
They carry burdens no one else can see.
They choose integrity when nobody’s watching.
They keep believing when the scoreboard says they shouldn’t.
Maybe that’s what Colin was trying to tell me.
Or maybe he was simply reminding me that the greatest compliment you’ll ever receive isn’t from a stage, a client, or a trophy.
It’s when your son looks at your life and says, “That’s what perseverance looks like.”
If that’s what my kids remember about me someday, then fifty has been a pretty good start.
Thanks, Colin.
That card will stay with me for a very long time.