The generosity of the poor

Today I spent some time at the parish and then in my home village. 

Part of the time I spent talking with Alejandro Carbajal who is the artist in charge of the mural in our parish church. He is now working on the image of Monseñor Óscar Romero, the sainted martyr of the poor, killed in El Salvador in 1980. The image is based on a photo of him receiving an offering of beans during a Mass in Chalatenango. 

There’s a family now staying in the village where I live who lost their home when a huge boulder (about 2.5 meters high and 3 x 5 meters) fell and crush and buried all their belongings about 7 am last Wednesday. They escaped with only an abode hitting one of the four children on the head. They are staying with the mother’s sister. 

Another family from the same hamlet is also here. They rescued some of the possessions but left food stuff and chickens in their home. They have an eleven-year-old who is physically and mentally disabled. We visited them and shared a few provisions. 

 I had gotten information on these cases in the morning and went to get some supplies for them. 

In the parish, there was a Honduran woman who has lived in the US for more than 14 years. She regularly sends clothing to her family for those in need. We went to her family’s house and got two bags of blankets and clothing for the family. 

We also went to the Concepción city hall to get a note that the municipality will pay for medication for two children in family that has lives in a village which has been cut off since Eta struck. We got the medicine and it will get to the kids sometime today or tomorrow. The woman who donated the clothes drove me to Concepción, to the pharmacy, and back to the church. 

Back in Plan Grande, I spoke to the delegate who had investigated the situation of the two families. When her son returned from an errand we went – she, her son, and a grandson.

We went first to the house where the family whose house had been crushed was staying. It was basically two rooms. We shared the clothes and some rice and cornmeal. As we left, the sister who was housing her sister’s family gave us a bag of beans, a donation for the parish’s efforts for those who have been displaced! 

The generosity of the poorest. She was feeding six more people, yet wanted to share with even more people. 

As I write this, I think of the image of Monseñor Romero, accepting the offering of a bag of beans. The gifts of the poor enrich our world.