Is Getting Better Than Giving?
An Old Homeless Lady and My Old Bedbound Mom Give Me Pause.
I am in Chicago, waiting for my grandson to be born. While Beulah labors endlessly, I stroll about the Chicago Medical District. Yes, that’s what it’s called. They have signs up, so you know where you are.
I am wondering if I should get a sandwich for Shem, wondering if he would even want it. He seems determined to suffer in tandem with his wife. I see a Subway in the distance and decide to decide as I walk there. It’s a hot day, and I could use an unsweetened tea with plenty of ice.
I pass an elderly woman sitting on a bench. “Do you have money so I can buy a sandwich?” she asks.
I have a policy. No money. “No,” I respond tersely.
And yet. And yet. The Holy Spirit pointed out a Bible verse to me, and it keeps coming up: “Give to everyone who asks of you, and whoever takes away what is yours, do not demand it back.” I have parsed and prayed. I have balanced my wish for a generous and loving heart with the wish to not contribute to anyone’s delinquency or to be taken advantage of. So the second part of the policy is: Give what you can, give what they need.
So at Subway I get a foot long ham sub and two drinks. On the way back to the hospital, I say to the lady, “Do you like lemonade?”
Her face lights up. “Oh, God bless you! Thank you,” she exclaims.
I sit down on the bench beside her. “Do you like ham?” I ask.
“Sure,” she replies.
I open up the bag and pull out half the sandwich, and give her the bag with the other half. Smiling, she tucks this bag into her pocket, still enthusiastically nursing the cup of lemonade.
As I eat my half of the sandwich, I ask, “Where do you live?”
“On the street,” she replies promptly. “That’s why I want to take this back with me to the shelter.”
It makes no sense to me that she should not eat the sandwich immediately. But it is hers now, and she can do as she likes with it.
On the way back to the hospital I ponder her situation. Homeless, daily in need of food, water, shelter, clothing. Apparently, she has no means to make or buy these things for herself. What is it like, I wonder, to have to ask for everything?
Like Mom.
Isn’t it miserable, I wonder, to have to ask the people around you every time you want or need anything? How does that make this woman feel?
I prefer being the person who gives, rather than the person who needs to ask. Someday, I may be the one asking. I hope whoever hears my request has not only a sound policy, but a generous and loving heart. And maybe a couple of ears and some time to sit and listen.
