I thought comparison wasn’t a big issue for me. I was never one to beat myself up for not “being like the other girls.” I didn’t really have problems feeling like I was missing out, even as many of my peers were in many exciting stages of life.  

Yet a little over a year ago, my deep-seated insecurities were exposed. I remember struggling to bear these burdens, feeling as though I couldn’t be rid of them in order to be loved like everyone else.  

    The Lord, in His goodness, provided me some consolations over the next several months through rather unexpected sources.  
 
“You’re gorgeous!” 

“You’re so pretty, you should be a senator!”  

“I just wanted to say you have the prettiest smile.” 

“Anyone ever told you today that you’re good looking?” 

    Most women might be resistant to strangers—perhaps especially homeless strangers-- giving them compliments. Taking these comments out of context, the average woman would probably feel uncomfortable, and understandably so. However, these were in the context of an encounter of souls, and I was deeply touched. 

 A bubbly, quirkily dressed woman on the streets of Denver, freed from the chains of addiction.  

An old man flying a sign at a bus stop, whose story could definitely be made into a movie.  

A man in a shabby jacket, with a rosary around his neck, just yearning to be seen.  

Our hearts were open and vulnerable, even for just a short while. And in that vulnerability, we saw each other's treasures.  

Vulnerability, riches, and poverty 

      I’ve often said that the poor help us to see our own interior poverty—our sins, traumas, fears... But with these experiences, I've learned that they reveal our riches too. The vulnerability of their state, I believe, allows them to be authentic with others. What I thought I was lacking, they saw in abundance and made sure to point it out, even though we were strangers.  

    Of course, these riches aren’t material. They aren’t even ours to begin with. They are all gifts from God: kindness. Humility. Beauty. Talent. The greatest out of all of them is our dignity as humans, made in God’s image and likeness.   
 
We may have the poverty of our wounds, but we should not be swept up in it. We cannot forget that we have been given the ultimate treasure of our worth as human beings. If we can see it in them, why don’t we see it in, and treat ourselves according to that truth? 

It's important to see, know, and love others—the poor in this case. But perhaps it is time for us to also be seen, known, and loved. Authentically. Completely. The poverty and riches altogether.  

    In the end, it is not simply others who are doing us this favor; it is Christ in them. It is truly He who finds our poverty rich--not because of anything that we are or can do alone, but because of who He is and what He can do.  

    Our wounds, by themselves, obviously do us no good. They may never even completely go away in this life. But when we open our hearts and surrender them to Him, then what was ugly becomes beautiful.   

His grace is sufficient, for His power is made perfect in weakness.  

When we are weak, then we are strong.  

Perhaps then, when we are poor, we are rich.  



Hazel Jordan is an Office & Communications Assistant at Our Lady of Lourdes. She is currently pursuing a Master's in Theology at the St. Paul Seminary School of Divinity. A recent graduate of the University of St. Thomas, she continues to be active in the faith community there, leading and developing a street ministry program that forms students to encounter the homeless in the Twin Cities. Among other things, she is a self-taught artist and musician, proudly acquiring graphic design and guitar/songwriting skills!