By Kelsey Scism 
I stand in my kitchen wishing for a superhero to swoop in and save the day. His cape flying behind him as he soars through the air and into my home to break up fights and restore peace. To administer justice and deliver fair consequences. To sweep me off my feet and whisk me away.
In the middle of my daydream, I hear the door open. I turn to see my husband, hands full of remnants from his day and work he’s brought home. “Daddy,” my little girl squeals as she rushes toward him. I listen as he greets each kiddo and asks about their days, his smile reflecting genuine excitement in seeing them.
He walks toward me and my wish for a superhero fades—because I realize I already have one.
My superhero doesn’t wear a cape, he serves his family.
He tackles to-do lists on his days off.
He changes the oil.
He mows the lawn.
He runs to the grocery store.
He does the dishes.
He fixes bike chains.
He drops off kids and picks them up.
My superhero doesn’t wear a cape, he raises children to love the Lord.
He teaches, coaches, loves, and leads.
He holds babies.
He hugs teenagers.
He disciplines in love.
He prays.
He seeks wisdom.
He plays baseball and board games.
He takes deep breaths when anger and frustration threaten to boil over.
He gives baths and clips little fingernails.
My superhero doesn’t wear a cape, he cherishes his wife and loves like Jesus.
He tells her she’s beautiful even when she doesn’t feel like it.
He tells her she’s beautiful until she believes it.
He brings home sweet surprises.
He works beside her.
He writes love notes on napkins and sticky notes.
He sends texts in the middle of the day just to say “I love you”.
He makes her feel appreciated and valuable.
He believes in her dreams when she’s too afraid to.
My superhero doesn’t wear a cape, he sacrifices for those he loves.
He drives a truck with a little rust and a lot of miles.
He takes leftovers for lunch.
He chooses a trip with the family over a golf membership.
He wears worn tennis shoes.
He doesn’t have the most recent phone.
He collects change and opens college savings accounts.
He watches YouTube videos and conquers DIY projects.
Not all superheroes wear capes.
Some wear a suit.
Or a uniform.
Or a nametag.
Or jeans.
Or scrubs.
Or gear.
Or company polos.
Or lab coats.
Or dress pants.
They don’t soar through the air or fight the notorious bad guy. Instead, they walk through the door at just the right moment to save the day in a thousand little ways.
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