On Super Heroes And A Super Secret Power

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As a boy, I would tie a blanket around my neck and pull a pair of white BVDs up over my flannel pajamas. I fished out a pair of my mother’s sunglasses from the basket by the kitchen counter and hid my face behind the rose tint.

I was ready.

Perched on the back of the couch, I would wait for my brother to come around the corner and then fly through the air, wrestling down the villain he was.

After a rough tousling, I would finally pin him down with my knees on his arms. Submission for the bad guy. Justice had won.

In my spare time, I would read the same comic book over and again, gobbling every word in the corner of my room with the red pillow cushioning my back against the hard wall. And when I had to put it away because of my mother’s threats, I would tuck it under the blankets of my bed. Later that night, the flashlight illuminated the colored pages, my eyes wide with wonder.

Back then I thought about superheroes – a lot. As a fat, slow kid I wanted to be lean and fast. I needed to be able to punch. And fly. I wasn’t asking much.

Photo from CMRF, via Flikr

Soon reality set in. The comic books went under bed for good after my first kiss from Jill. But I still thought about super powers. I thought about crawling up walls, jumping from buildings and making the bad guys pay. I wanted to stand up for everything that was good and just. I thought about flying. I still do.

The older I get, the more I realize that I’m extraordinarily average. I’m certain no super hero with super-human strength. Actually, I stumble over simple human tasks. I fail the most basic of tests. I struggle with the kryptonite in my life.

But I’ve got one Super Power up my sleeve that sits in waiting. I know it’s there because He’s promised it to me.

Joy!

And that makes me smile, which makes them wonder what I’m up to.

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