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.

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