Courage is such a big word, reserved for heroes who pull people from burning buildings, save little children from drowning, rescue coal minders stuck in the shaft, slowing smothering from the lack of fresh air.
Courage is for death-defying feats. Tiptoeing onto the thin ice, sliding the ladder out to the open water, calmly coaching the young boy on how to grab on. A dog barks but the man never loses concentration.
“Just grab on and you’ll be OK. Yes, son, you’re going to be all right. Be strong now, be strong. Here comes the ladder. Reach up. Grab the end. A little closer. You’re almost there, almost there. It’s going to be OK. I have you. I have you.”
Then screams of victory. Women and men crying. Dogs barking. The parents heaving, gulping frigid sobs as the EMTs wrap the boy in a sliver space blanket, lift him in their arms and run to the ambulance.
The courageous fireman puts the ladder back on the side of the truck. His buddies slap him on the back. They high-five.
Oh Courage, you strong savior. You’re Courage with a capital “C.”
The day-in, day-out caring for someone who is sick is courage, too, but small “c” courage. There’s no glamor. No big momentous event. No crowds cheering you on, slapping you on the back after you help the person you love inch his or her way into the bathroom at 3 a.m. Waiting outside the bathroom door, ready to help the person slowly, slowly get back into bed. This courage won’t make the six o’clock news. It won’t win special awards or recognition. It won’t even deserve a conversation when people check in with you tomorrow.
“How is she doing? Anything new or unusual?” they call and ask.
“No, everything is about the same,” you say.
They don’t know about small “c” courage. The courage not to complain, feel badly for yourself that you’re stuck sleeping on the couch so that you can jump up at 3 a.m. for bathroom duty. Courage not to cry in front of the sick person the next day because you’re so tired that all you want to do is sleep in a bed, not having that “help” antenna up.
This small “c” courage is Love. Love with a capital “L.”
Tags: caregiver