How Superwoman Flies

As a kid I really liked hearing, “it’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s Superman!” And everyone would be pointing upward to see him fly over. Just the other day, I wrote to a friend, “I've always known that I'm not a superwoman, but there's something in me that makes me keep trying to act like one. I can’t fly without assistance.”

I think I have discovered how superwoman flies. We look up as she flies overhead seemingly without effort, but what we don’t see are all the hands that are raised up helping to hold her up—you know, like in those trust exercises, being passed along overhead on the upraised hands of the group.

Finally last week, two friends in particular with their questions helped me come face to face with this truth—I cannot fly alone. And thus with trepidation I have opened the way to see all those hands that have been there all along.

Forgive me if I’ve been slow. And know that I am so grateful, more than I can ever really express.

I wrote these words last week before Jeff entered the Halquist Center. Ever since then, as Jeff grew steadily weaker and now that he has died, I am learning ever more deeply their truth. I have been overwhelmed with how many there are whose hands are holding me up—some from places and people I knew would be there, but some from entirely unexpected sources.

If ever you see me acting as if I can fly alone, remind me (gently) of the hands that hold me, acting as God’s own hands.

Galatians 6:2-3

Bear one another’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ. For if those who are nothing think they are something, they deceive themselves.