I walk across a threshold of sewage and starvation to meet Poverty where she lives.
Her house is full of children that ought to be in school on a Tuesday morning. They should be wearing uniforms, holding pencils, and writing in notebooks. But Poverty won’t allow it.
They should be in 3rd grade, and 5th grade, and all the other grades, or they should be starting Kindergarten.
If Poverty’s kids get an education, they will leave her.
Poverty tells her children that they have no hope.
She tells them they have no worth.
She never calls them by name. Instead she calls them all Poor.
She leads them to believe that they are weak, because they are so very, very small.
Sometimes even I believe her because of how she towers over them.
It can be hard to see that Poor has another name.
But when I feel that one of Poverty’s children has wrapped his little arms around my legs, and when I look down onto his smiling face, I am reminded that Poor is actually Josue…
…and ten minutes later it’s Daniela.
Poverty’s poor daughter is Alondra who likes candy…alot…
… and her poor son is Cristian who always wants please, please, please just one more banana.
All of her children have real names… and real faces… and real dreams for a future.
What Poverty doesn’t know, when I come to her door on Tuesdays, is that it is to fill her children not just with food, but with ideas.
To offer them hope because I know where they can find the strength to do all things.
To show them that they are worthy recipients of the greatest Love that has ever existed.
To bring Faith to a place where there was once only desperation.
We must be the light in Poverty’s shadow so that her poor children can know Faith, Hope, and Love.
On Tuesdays, I get to bring “the greatest of these” to “the least”, just by showing up on Poverty’s doorstep and looking her in the eye.