I burst into tears. Perhaps one of the hardest things about being a missionary is seeing that, in spite of our efforts to live in solidarity with the poor, there exists a world of difference in the opportunities available to us and to them. Try as I might, I’ll never truly understand the plight of the poor.
I began to cry quietly in my little spot in the dark. It was an invitation. An invitation to poverty and generosity in a way that I had not yet known. An invitation into this part of Jesus’ life––and it felt impossible.
Our first session on the Great Commission blew us away. And then it just got better and better! Why did we never hear all of this stuff growing up and going to primarily Catholic institutions our whole lives?