Blessed Are You Who Are Poor

We entered the narrow walkway (with a putrid drainage ditch on the side) that was the entrance to the Arellano slum, and immediately were happily accosted by a group of children who grabbed our hands and walked with us through the slum, chanting all the way "New York Team, New York Team!"  When we arrived by circular route at the small open space in which we were going to play some music and games, the crowd had grown into a chaotic mass of beautiful children, and we didn't mind in the least. The kids were all so eager to be held and loved, and I was eager to hold and squeeze as many of them as I could.

One particular poignant moment came when we were playing music: I had a mic in one hand, a child's hand in another, and another little one glued to my other side. When I sang the phrase "blessed are you who are poor" the realization of the absolute reality of God in that place hit me, and tears came as the veil seemed to be ripped from my eyes for a moment as I saw His glory in the sea of precious faces all around. What followed was nothing short of heaven meeting earth as we distributed meals to families, and if that wasn't enough, walked towards home swinging children between us.