We all admire strong people. We enthusiastically look at their photos on the covers of magazines, with interest read about them in the news. And sometimes we do not suspect that real heroes quietly live among us.

     Is the waitress, who is a single mother with two children, serves the visitors from morning till night, and still cares for the paralyzed mother, deserves less honor than the millionaire from the Forbes list?

     Is the cleaning lady of office who cleans rooms in the evening, who before that stood all the day long on a cold behind a counter in a market, has less heroism, than in the soldiers guarding our borders? 

     Is a woman who survived rape in her younger years, who supported her husband-freeloader, working at night to feed her daughter, who was also studying between several jobs and at the same time kept her cheerfulness, trust and love for people, does not deserve the title of the hero of our time?

     Is it not these fragile shoulders that held together our cruel world? It is not happy with them at birth, because, you see, parents want an heir. It squeezes them in a vice grip when they are little, because they are a bonne bouche for pedophiles. It exploits them as a daughter-in-law in the families of their husbands. It puts burden on them of raising children with irresponsible husbands. It tests them again and again. And they recover from the blow, as from the winter frost and thaw again, straightening their curled souls and again reaching out to light and warmth, believing that this time they will not be deceived or offended.

     These are our women. Heroic, persistent, gentle, defenseless, believing and forgiving.

     This hymn to you!

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