That little boy (and girl) watches you in wide-eyed amazement.
Their dad is their superhero, but he doesn’t wear a cape.
He wears a dusty old ball cap, and a worn out pair of boots.
Their superhero works before sun up, and long after sunset, but never forgets to kiss their sleeping foreheads when finally walks through that door.
They see the work he puts in, and they take the long hours in stride. It’s all they’ve ever known.
They watch the sweat drip from his brow as he works in the hot sun, and they watch him thank the Lord for another day.
They are right at his side, day in and day out, watching intently. They ask questions and he never hesitates to satisfy them with an honest answer.
They never fail to jump out of their seats and run to the door when they hear that diesel truck turn into the drive. They don’t care that he’s covered in grease and grime, they’re just ready to be picked up and thrown into the air, shrieking with delight.
The world just sees a farmer, but they see a superhero.
And you know, I do, too.
This post originally appeared on Faith, Farming and Family
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