My Superpower…

I LOVE how God works in those who serve Him on mission trips…especially those in the Mole! Below is a reflection of a 12-year old girl – who “gets it”.  I can see the face of Jesus in her writing! She doesn’t seek glory for herself – but simply to be a vessel of hope to our beautiful Haitian people. This is a heart sold-out to Christ!

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October 2012

My Superpower

by Parker Overby

I am on a bus.  All I can feel is my stomach clenching as I bounce up and down in the hot bus seat.  I see brokenness all around me and I am here to fix it.  I am just overwhelmed by everything.  I have a superpower.  Not like flying or mind reading.  I give homes to orphans.  Now I know what you’re thinking – that’s not a superpower.  But in my opinion, it is.  I think finding loving homes for broken kids is as much of a superpower as invisibility or incredible strength.  I create an atmosphere where kids can come after a good day, or a bad day.  Right now I’m in St. Nicholas du Mole, Haiti, a small town near the northwest corner of the little island.

 

In the 102 degree weather I am getting to work.  I dig a hole in the ground as the sun is beating down on my back.  Push, scoop, throw.  Those are the steps I follow until my work is done.  As I am completely worn out I just remember why I’m here – to help kids that have been abused, rejected, or been through more than you can imagine.  These are the stories I hear over and over everyday.  I can’t even describe a more joyful and amazing moment than when I have a child in my arms.  I feel love.  Love is what brings me closer to these kids.  Love is the reason I am able to show them I love them and care about them.  Love is God who gives me the strength and perseverance to get through the day.  Love conquers all.  Everything is ruined and yet these kids manage to put a smile on their face everyday.

 

Carrying concrete bricks is hard.  I slouch over with my arms hanging low, dragging the bricks, attempting to line the foundation of a soon to be orphanage.  I put a brick down, put mud in the middle, and stack another one on top.  I keep building upwards until my project is complete.  I take the paint and a paintbrush and get to work.  My arms have paint all over them!  I think to myself, “I can’t paint!”  I look down and see dirt all over my feet – they’re covered in white-ish gray dust.  I see a woman walking down the dirt road.  She has a homemade woven basket full of mangoes on her head.  She’s humming a tune that I can faintly hear.  I wonder what is going through her mind right now.  I love this place.  There is work to be done, and I can make a change.