By Becky Holland
Heroes don’t always wear capes.
Sometimes they wear little girl dresses, play with Barbies, giggle when they talk about becoming a teacher and have a smile that lights up an entire room.
My great-niece Heidi is six years old, and if I had to pick a hero, it’d be her.
Today marks the third anniversary of the last of three life-saving heart surgeries she endured before most children even learn to tie their shoes.
She is the only one of my great-nieces and great-nephews born with a rare and complex congenital heart defect. I know all of my greats are special in their own way, but watching Heidi’s journey has given me a front-row seat to courage unlike anything I’ve ever witnessed.
If you’ve ever met Heidi, you know exactly what I mean.
She has a big, bold personality and can absolutely hold her own with her big brother, Chandler, as well as her cousins and friends. She is fiercely independent, determined to do things herself and completely convinced that “can’t” is a word meant for somebody else.
Yet beneath that independent streak is a little girl who still loves being close to her momma.
She’s also a little misunderstood if you first meet her.
Some people think she’s shy. I don’t.
She just needs a hot minute.
Give her a few moments to decide you’re one of the good ones, and suddenly that mischievous grin appears, those beautiful blue eyes begin to sparkle and her personality fills the room.
Those eyes…
I’ve looked into those eyes while they’ve been full of curiosity, laughter and just enough mischief to make you wonder what she’s thinking next.
I’ve also looked at photographs of those same eyes closed after surgeries no child should ever have to endure.
Heidi has been poked.
Prodded.
Scanned.
X-rayed.
Hooked to monitors.
Surrounded by tubes.
She has spent more time in hospitals than most adults ever will.
At Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta, every procedure, every needle stick, every test and every hurdle earned her another Bead of Courage—small colorful beads that tell the story of extraordinary bravery.
To most people, they’re just beads.
To Heidi, they’re proof.
Proof that courage isn’t the absence of fear.
It’s showing up anyway.
I’ve seen grown men get lightheaded talking about heart surgery.
Heidi lived through three of them.
She faced what many adults would struggle to comprehend before she was old enough to understand what was happening.
And somehow…
She’s still just Heidi.
She still loves Barbies.
She still makes people laugh with the things she says.
She still dreams about becoming a teacher.
She still believes Jesus made her heart special because she’s a special kid.
You know what?
I think she’s right.
She does have a special heart.
Not just because of the way it was created.
Because of the courage it carries.
Today, on the anniversary of her final heart surgery, I don’t want people to remember the diagnosis.
I want them to remember the little girl.
The one with the bright blue eyes.
The confident pose.
The mischievous smile.
The determined spirit.
The little girl who reminds all of us that strength has absolutely nothing to do with age.
If I had to pick a hero…
It wouldn’t be someone famous.
It wouldn’t be an athlete.
It wouldn’t be a celebrity.
It would be a six-year-old little girl named Heidi.
And I couldn’t be prouder to call her my great-niece.
Happy Heart Anniversary, Heidi!
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