Blessed are you poor

Yesterday, two different little boys from two totally different events shared their treats with me, unprompted and pretty much unwarranted.

The first, Luis, is in our scholarship program and I had never even met him until yesterday. We were having a little party and I sat next to him during the activities, joking with him and high-fiving him after he answered a trivia question right. When he won a pack of three lollipops, he sat down and immediately handed me one without a word. The second boy, Anthony, is one of my favorite children in all of Honduras. I see his mom for the mother's support/faith group I help with every week and he always runs to me and squeezes me when he sees me. I saw him while waiting in line for the sacrament of Reconciliation with the friars and he and his mom and sister walked in. I said hi to them and after we finished talking I turned back but felt a little hand on my knee: Anthony had pulled a small cookie from his backpack and as I faced him he placed it in my palm before walking back to his mom.

Later that night we were all watching Ferris Bueller's Day Off for our community movie night and when a friend of mine sat in the seat behind me I without thinking semi-hid the doritos I was eating in my lap because I didn't want to share.

I came here to serve people in poverty, but really, they're not the ones who are poor. I am. Poor in what really matters. Poor in trust, selflessness, generosity, desire to do good, experiential knowledge and love of God. These children--and all the poor--are so rich in what matters, and they so generously share with me.

How much more I have to learn from them.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The well do not need a physician, the sick do.

I had the best dream the other night. I don't remember all of it but I remember the most important parts. Our whole family was sitting, just sitting, talking, being our chill normal selves. I think we were somewhere like San Diego (it wouldn't be surprising). My whole family, including my mom. And in my dream I know my mom isn't with us anymore and at the same time I was not surprised to see here there. For most of the dream I was sitting right next to her, holding on to her arm. Toward the end of the dream she said to me, "Why are you hanging on to me?" And I replied, "Because I know you have to go soon." Indeed, just a moment later it seemed, I woke up. I woke up and I could feel  the sensation of holding on to my mom's arm, resting against her. And when I woke up, I didn't feel sad, empty, angry or lost. I felt happy. Plain and simple happy. Grateful. That practically-tangible sensation stayed with me the whole day along with a sense of peace.
Read more

You see me, and You know me

While walking back from mass one sleepy morning, I noticed a little girl in her school uniform about a hundred yards away. She wasn’t standing or even walking, she was running. It’s not too unusual to see kids running through our neighborhood, but what I wasn’t expecting was for her to be running toward me. As she came closer I recognized her as the daughter of a woman who comes to the faith group we hold for mothers in our neighborhood who have been abused, abandoned, and come from other unfortunate yet not uncommon struggles. I had played with this little girl--whose name I had never learned--for the whole of just one afternoon while her mom listened to a talk about healing and had a time for prayer while the group met. We played tag and laughed and I gave her piggy-back rides, and at the end of the meeting she went home and that was it. I didn’t really expect to see her again, and I definitely didn’t expect her to know or even remember me after just one afternoon of playing tog
Read more