I see poverty in my community almost everyday. I work smack dab in the middle of it. I know its face in a way that someone who is surrounded by it knows it. I do not begin to pretend to know it as someone whose life is immersed in it. But still, poverty is a part of my life.
So, I was a little surprised this week when I went to Austin and saw its poverty. I was not surprised that Austin had poverty. I was surprised that it did not look the same as my poverty. I mean, it looked the same, it just didn't "look" the same.
There were broken down houses and yards strewn with debris of a difficult life. Mangy looking dogs, some with limps (likely from being kicked or run over) scrounging around. Beacons of light alongside the sadness - houses well kept. Strung out men and women walking around looking for relief. Others, just living life like everyone else.
I guess what was different is that I know the people that live in my poverty. I see the heart and soul of that neighborhood, not just the broke down parts. Or it could be that I have become immune to my poverty. I've seen it so much that it just seems normal.
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