I was a hero in another town. A small pretty town that blew chilly winds from trees rooted in hills. But then I moved to a city that seats beneath the sun, and the heat from its glee has so consumed me. Some days I burn.
There were days when I used to have things all figured out, and basked in the confidence of being able to think my way through any situation by standing on my two feet. Somehow these days I don’t anymore. I traveled along a troubled high way and arrived at my wits end. But that was when He pulled me over and sent me on cruise control. My hands are clasped in awe; my mouth is filled with praise.
Sometimes I wish the mistakes that I’ve made, the enormous feelings of apprehension and utter despair I get from being helpless in the uncertainty of a situation, were only a part of my dream - the part just before I wake up to let out a gasping sigh of relief, realizing that it was all unreal. Yet these moments here are real, and so is the guilt feeling that comes.
But then, after a hard fall I learn never to make the same mistake twice. For there are days when I intentionally set out for an easy fail, the first try, that when I get to give me my second chance I know just how to do it better, and go quicker. And some days I know that to relish in moments of intense pleasure, inducing the pain can work the magic; and that in my sinful state His glory is magnified. These I have come to truly understand.
In this town, I have stopped trying to be a hero. My wings wouldn’t grow and I have got no super powers. But for this, I have also lost all worry: that when I put my hands in His hands, it’s a cooling touch that shields and shelters me from the heat in this town. He is the mighty super hero that meets my every need.
