With the anniversary of the September 11th attacks and the ongoing war, the thought of what is a hero is often floating around in the old gray matter. Those men and women who are our public servants, fire fighters, police officers and teachers (to name a few) and those brave souls who are overseas facing gunfire definitely fall into the category of a hero. Still, when I think of a hero, I can't help thinking closer to home. In my family, we have one hero who may not be the most powerful person (yet) and he may not have an opportunity to save lives (yet). The fact that he's only about 3 years old may have something to do with that.

Jacob is my hero. Each day he undergoes his treatments and he takes his medicines, he doesn't put up a fight, he just does them. He's at an age where he's begun to notice that he's doing things differently than any of the other kids. And it really does interrupt his life when he has to be taken away from his big sister or cousins to do a breathing treatment. Still, he keeps a smile on his face and continues to act like it doesn't bother him.

I have seem and heard testimonials from older kids, teenagers, who talk about doing their breathing treatments and how the routine is just a part of their lives. This amazes me. I know that when I as a teen, I wanted nothing more than to fit in. I can't imagine what it must be like to have to take medicine constantly and set aside the time each day to do breathers. I guess it just become natural, at some point. Doesn't it?