Thoughts
So, my mind has hit a snag. It chews this topic of thought like a dog with a thick bone.
Charity.
Several weeks ago on a beautiful spring day I coerced Tobias to take a walk with me and the baby around the quad area of his campus. The flowers were all in bloom, daffodils and tulips. It was warm but with a gentle breeze. I was serenely happy walking with my little family around, soaking up the atmosphere of nature and old buildings full of classrooms.
We were approached by a man. Within a moment I knew what he wanted, before he'd even had a chance to ask. He was homeless and was hoping for money for food. In contrast to most bums, this man was clean, and while his clothes were obviously second-hand, they were clean and neat as well. He spoke with sincerity and while I am usually distrustful of those asking for money, I believed and even had a strange sense of liking him.
But we fell back on our usual answers- no, we have no money for you. We explained how we were just out for a walk with our new baby and had nothing on us but diapers. Untruthful- I did have my wallet with me. I didn't have much money in my wallet but there were a few dollars there. A wisp of shame passed through me as we lied, as it always does no matter the asker. I had the inclination to help. I wanted to invite him over for lunch. We have plenty of food, I thought. But I held my tongue, knowing that we also had several thousand dollars worth of musical instruments that could be stolen should this man be a thief, or worse.
Having mentioned the baby we parted to let him see and he said kind words, thanking God aloud for sweet little babies. The we parted.
I have given money and food to people before. Chicago has many homeless and in a workday in the summer I could pass more than five people on corners, holding cups and signs. Be stopped by people with the same speeches- I have children, lost my job, I'm a veteran, I'm clean now. One guy begged for help, saying he'd lost his wallet and needed money to get the bus to get home. He asked for my business card, promising to return the money to me. He didn't. I don't mind that he didn't, the sense of good I felt for having helped him was enough.
Sometimes, I get a look from them. Like they are thinking, Why don't you give me money? You have so much. I mentally reply, Do you know why I have money? It is because I skip lunch so as to save the $5 I would have spent so we can build up our savings. Because those little savings add up. We have money because I work my hands until they hurt, walk to my appointments when my feet ache to save money on transportation. We have money because we eat cheaply- sandwiches, beans and rice, ramen, on-sale produce instead of eating out. We have money because for Christmases I re-gifted what I didn't need, bought from second-hand stores, or gave smaller, thoughtful new things. The only Christmas gifts I don't skimp on are the ones that are desperately needed.
Why do we have money? Because we want to travel. Because I want my son and future children to have good lives. I want to be able to afford the swim lessons, soccer, martial arts,and music lessons children should have, I want to be able to afford to put them through college. We need money because we want to open our own Spa. We need money because we want to buy apartment buildings as rental properties and someday afford to buy our own home without having a mortgage hanging over our heads.
But my soul still hurts every time I say no. So I rationalize it. I've seen first-hand the deceit these people pull. The faked limps, the money going for cigarettes and addictions rather than food. The preference to beg over doing any kind of work. I know not everyone is like that, but we're all little mystery boxes inside and you never know which ones are being honest and which ones are not and you never know if your monmey will help them anyway. I tell myself that if I pay fast offerings, I'm already helping the poor and needy. I tell myself that someday when I have lots of money from my businesses and assets that I can give more freely, like a fruit tree. It takes time for them to mature, but once they do they can give lots of fruit. I'm an immature fruit tree, I tell myself. I will help the poor later.
And I remember my own family, my brothers and sisters struggling themselves in poverty. Fighting to keep jobs that don't pay enough, struggling to raise children on meager incomes. Wouldn't I want to help them first?
And my soul refuses to be soothed. Why didn't you help them? It demands. Someone asked you for help and you said No? They are cold, and hungry and troubled and you said you can do nothing for them but you know better, you know that you could. Jesus said love everyone, to feed the poor and give them your extra cloak and to walk a mile with them.
And the situation of my extended family pains me. These people, I know for sure, are honestly in need of help. I cry over them, wishing their lives were easier. I wonder if I am a bad person, planning a trip to Asia when my brothers and sisters are fretting over how to pay their bills. It's not my fault they are struggling. We've worked hard and put schooling first, whereas they did not. We held off having children for more years than I wanted so as to give our savings a good head start. We got out of California and to a place with better job prospects. We give liberally at Christmas knowing that we will get nothing in return except hugs. We've done everything right even though it was hard and it's paying off for us. And I tell myself again, that once I have a flowering business and more assets, I can help them.
And my soul refuses to be soothed.
Charity.
Several weeks ago on a beautiful spring day I coerced Tobias to take a walk with me and the baby around the quad area of his campus. The flowers were all in bloom, daffodils and tulips. It was warm but with a gentle breeze. I was serenely happy walking with my little family around, soaking up the atmosphere of nature and old buildings full of classrooms.
We were approached by a man. Within a moment I knew what he wanted, before he'd even had a chance to ask. He was homeless and was hoping for money for food. In contrast to most bums, this man was clean, and while his clothes were obviously second-hand, they were clean and neat as well. He spoke with sincerity and while I am usually distrustful of those asking for money, I believed and even had a strange sense of liking him.
But we fell back on our usual answers- no, we have no money for you. We explained how we were just out for a walk with our new baby and had nothing on us but diapers. Untruthful- I did have my wallet with me. I didn't have much money in my wallet but there were a few dollars there. A wisp of shame passed through me as we lied, as it always does no matter the asker. I had the inclination to help. I wanted to invite him over for lunch. We have plenty of food, I thought. But I held my tongue, knowing that we also had several thousand dollars worth of musical instruments that could be stolen should this man be a thief, or worse.
Having mentioned the baby we parted to let him see and he said kind words, thanking God aloud for sweet little babies. The we parted.
I have given money and food to people before. Chicago has many homeless and in a workday in the summer I could pass more than five people on corners, holding cups and signs. Be stopped by people with the same speeches- I have children, lost my job, I'm a veteran, I'm clean now. One guy begged for help, saying he'd lost his wallet and needed money to get the bus to get home. He asked for my business card, promising to return the money to me. He didn't. I don't mind that he didn't, the sense of good I felt for having helped him was enough.
Sometimes, I get a look from them. Like they are thinking, Why don't you give me money? You have so much. I mentally reply, Do you know why I have money? It is because I skip lunch so as to save the $5 I would have spent so we can build up our savings. Because those little savings add up. We have money because I work my hands until they hurt, walk to my appointments when my feet ache to save money on transportation. We have money because we eat cheaply- sandwiches, beans and rice, ramen, on-sale produce instead of eating out. We have money because for Christmases I re-gifted what I didn't need, bought from second-hand stores, or gave smaller, thoughtful new things. The only Christmas gifts I don't skimp on are the ones that are desperately needed.
Why do we have money? Because we want to travel. Because I want my son and future children to have good lives. I want to be able to afford the swim lessons, soccer, martial arts,and music lessons children should have, I want to be able to afford to put them through college. We need money because we want to open our own Spa. We need money because we want to buy apartment buildings as rental properties and someday afford to buy our own home without having a mortgage hanging over our heads.
But my soul still hurts every time I say no. So I rationalize it. I've seen first-hand the deceit these people pull. The faked limps, the money going for cigarettes and addictions rather than food. The preference to beg over doing any kind of work. I know not everyone is like that, but we're all little mystery boxes inside and you never know which ones are being honest and which ones are not and you never know if your monmey will help them anyway. I tell myself that if I pay fast offerings, I'm already helping the poor and needy. I tell myself that someday when I have lots of money from my businesses and assets that I can give more freely, like a fruit tree. It takes time for them to mature, but once they do they can give lots of fruit. I'm an immature fruit tree, I tell myself. I will help the poor later.
And I remember my own family, my brothers and sisters struggling themselves in poverty. Fighting to keep jobs that don't pay enough, struggling to raise children on meager incomes. Wouldn't I want to help them first?
And my soul refuses to be soothed. Why didn't you help them? It demands. Someone asked you for help and you said No? They are cold, and hungry and troubled and you said you can do nothing for them but you know better, you know that you could. Jesus said love everyone, to feed the poor and give them your extra cloak and to walk a mile with them.
And the situation of my extended family pains me. These people, I know for sure, are honestly in need of help. I cry over them, wishing their lives were easier. I wonder if I am a bad person, planning a trip to Asia when my brothers and sisters are fretting over how to pay their bills. It's not my fault they are struggling. We've worked hard and put schooling first, whereas they did not. We held off having children for more years than I wanted so as to give our savings a good head start. We got out of California and to a place with better job prospects. We give liberally at Christmas knowing that we will get nothing in return except hugs. We've done everything right even though it was hard and it's paying off for us. And I tell myself again, that once I have a flowering business and more assets, I can help them.
And my soul refuses to be soothed.