I'm Married to Captain America

First things first... I photoshopped this image. My husband does NOT wear blue tights and red boots. Well, not in public anyway. I only allow him to sport that outfit in the privacy of our own home.

I'm just KIDDING.

He wears it at work, too.

Again... that was a joke! To my knowledge my husband does not own either red boots or blue tights. Or tights of any color, for that matter. (Here's a question... why do all superheroes wear tights? Men created them... Marvel Comics, etc... so why on earth did they clothe all these ultra powerful, mega-masculine men in the same thing ballerinas wear? I'm just sayin'...)

Moving on...

As Sunday school leaders, my hubby and I have tried very hard to teach our high school students that by nature we are all selfish creatures. We are human, therefore we are self-centered. We think about ourselves and our needs before others and their needs. And because of this we should constantly seek God's help in becoming more Christ-like, serving others and putting their needs ahead of our own. It's a tough lesson, and one that is extraordinarily difficult to put into action.

Unless, of course, you are Captain America.

You see, Captain America does not worry about his safety when fighting crime and saving children from bodily harm. He does not think about himself at all when he springs into action. He springs first and thinks about it later.

I am glad I haven't been there to witness any of my husband's feats of bravery. But there have been witnesses, my daughter being one of them.

This past Monday, we attended a JV game in West Monroe where Emily cheered. Hubby and I went in two separate vehicles because he volunteered to be one of the cheer parents to drive cheerleaders to and from the game. Their drive to the game was uneventful. But the drive home was full of excitement.

After taking the girls and the cheer sponsor to get post-game ice cream, my husband and his car full of witnesses ended up on the very busy Thomas Road thoroughfare, where fast food joints line both sides of the street. The hubby was in the far southbound lane of 5 lanes of traffic.

The cheer sponsor, who was in the passenger seat, exclaimed, "Omigosh! Look at that little girl!!!"

On the far edge of the northbound lane, a young girl who looked to be about 4 years old was running down the street waving her hands in the air. The hubby and his passengers couldn't tell whether the girl was laughing or crying, they just knew she could get run over by a car at any moment. Following her were a man who appeared to be her grandfather and behind him a grandmotherly-looking woman. Neither of the two elderly folks were gaining any ground in catching the screaming child.

So my husband quickly pulled the car over, put it in park and ran across 5 lanes of traffic toward the young girl. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the elderly gentleman. The little girl was laughing and carrying on as if she had just stepped off an amusement park ride. She asked to get on her Papaw's shoulders, and the two of them walked off into the sunset toward the grandmother who was still about 50 yards away and closer to the Chick-fil-A, from where the girl had apparently escaped the arms of her grandparents to run towards the traffic.

Now, I could launch into a lecture about how, had that been my child, I would have punished her spoiled little rear end right there on the spot so she would know never to pull that stunt again... But that's another story for another time. Right now I just want to talk about my very own Captain America.

Hero? Yes.

His only feat of bravery? NEG!

The Hubby does our grocery shopping (I know... I'm a lucky gal!) and had gone to the store one Saturday afternoon several months ago to pick up a few items. Emi and I were at home on this day, and after an hour or so we realized that he had been gone longer than usual. When he finally walked in the door, I could tell by the look on his face that it hadn't been a typical trip to the market.

Apparently, as my husband was putting his groceries into the trunk of our car, he heard a man hollering and looked up to see a disheveled middle-aged guy hurriedly pushing a shopping cart full of unpaid-for-beer into the parking lot. He was followed by a store manager who was yelling at the guy to stop.

Once again, Captain America springs into action, and races toward the guy with the beer buggy. Luckily, a couple of other male shoppers headed that direction, too, and together they grabbed the brew bandit and held him until police arrived. Nobody was harmed, the beer was saved and the bandit was hauled off in the back of a police car.

Even though it had a happy ending, this story disturbed me a bit because my first thought as I listened to it was that the guy could have had some sort of weapon on him. I realize the beer bandit could have been on that TV show, World's Dumbest Criminals, because he was quite obviously not the brightest light in the chandelier. And I also realized that the closest thing to a weapon the bandit owned was probably a bottle opener. But he was also, quite obviously, crazy. And take it from somebody who knows firsthand... you should NEVER underestimate crazy.

Thankfully, however, my hero-of-a-hubby made it home safely from both of these instances and I am very proud to say that he is my husband. He is human and thus imperfect, as we all are. But he really tries hard to put others before himself, even when it might hurt him to do so. He would also be the first to tell you not to give him credit for any of this, and that "anybody else would have done the same thing."

My husband may not have rescued me from the jaws of an evil villain, or scooped me out of harm's way on a busy thoroughfare. But he has saved me in so many other ways, by the sweet things he does for me every day and the way he takes responsibility for my child and our family. He's a servant. He's a friend. He's my hero.

Not every girl can say she is married to Captain America!


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