The Hero's Creed

When I was training myself for Iraq, it was a exercise in physical and mental discipline.  During my daily workout, I would close my eyes and recite the Soldier’s Creed.  I have modified it for my use now.  I will learn it while I prepare myself once again.  Feel free to alter it for your own use.  It’s good practice.
The Hero’s Creed
I am Beesting.
I am a Protector and a member of a team.
I serve the people of my community, and live the core values.
I will always place the community first.
I will never accept defeat.
I will never quit.
I will always make a positive impact.
I am disciplined, physically and mentally tough, trained and proficient as a Protector.
I will always maintain my equipment and myself.
I am an expert and I am a professional.
I stand ready to patrol, engage, and stop, the enemies of my community.
I am a guardian of freedom and the American way of life.
I am Beesting.

What makes you so darn Super???

I think anyone who is serious about doing something with the RLSH concept should find their niche, the thing they’re passionate about, and build something with it.
I knew I wanted to do something; paying more attention to crime reports or humanitarian injustices gets me fired up, but then, it always has.  So it took some soul-searching to come to my “Super Epiphany”.
I’ve decided to make one of my first public appearances this summer at a youth camp for cancer victims/survivors.  For those children, one of them being my son, handing out food to the homeless or scattering drug dealers across a street corner might sound “cool” or the nice thing to do, but it has little to do with their underlying battle, and it doesn’t take much creativity to see it as everyone’s battle: FEAR.
Fear prevents two people from talking.  Fear makes tomorrow scary.  Fear makes rejection horrifying.  Fear makes sitting at home alone sound like a good idea.  Fear replaces accountability, decency, goodwill, ethics, morality, and everything else that keeps our soul attached to our skin bags.
I see my son rolling like a tank through softball-sized brain tumors, radiation… learning how to read braille.  His goal is to be an FBI agent, altered slightly from his previous desire to be a soldier like daddy.  He has no FEAR.  He plays soccer, paintball, rides his bike, and he can barely see shapes.
If an 8 year old boy can bound out of his own grave, and glide through a canyon on a zip line at summer camp, can’t each of us wipe away the apprehension that prevents us from being “Super”?
One afternoon at a checkpoint somewhere southeast of Baghdad I said “farewell” to FEAR when I used my body as a shield to protect a fellow soldier.  It made me ALIVE, reborn if you will, and solidified me as a servant to my brothers (or in that particular case, sisters, too).  I’m going to help others wave their fears “goodbye”.  That’s what SUPER means to me.