Most people think bravery happens on battlefields, in burning buildings, or during headlines that make the five o’clock news.
The truth is, most bravery happens on ordinary Monday mornings.
A father getting out of bed before sunrise and heading to work. A mother worrying about her children long after they have become adults. A husband sitting beside a hospital bed. A wife holding a family together during difficult times. A son carrying memories of his parents who are now in heaven.
Love is what gives courage its purpose.
Without affection, bravery becomes recklessness. Without something to care about, there is nothing worth sacrificing for.
Eighty-two years ago, those young men climbed into landing craft and crossed the English Channel. They were scared, but fear took a back seat because they loved something more than they feared.
They loved their families, their hometowns, and the hope that future generations would live in freedom.
The same principle applies today on a much different scale.
The dad coaching Little League after a long day at work. The woman checking on an elderly relative who can’t get around. The parent helping a child navigate a difficult school year. The friend who answers the phone when someone is struggling.
None of these people will receive medals. Yet each is fighting a battle on behalf of someone they love.
As I get older, I have become convinced that the things worth fighting for are remarkably simple: faith, family, friendship, community, and country.
The older I get, the less impressed I am by people who boast about themselves. I am more impressed by people who quietly carry responsibility.
Because courage is not measured by how loudly a person talks. It is measured by what they are willing to protect.
… and every brave man or woman I have ever known had one thing in common, they loved something more than themselves.
Have a good Monday, Chalkheads. Make it count.
