"Are you from here?" I asked, avoiding her initial question.
"Actually, I'm from California. Just here visiting." She answered, seeming a little bit annoyed with me.
"Me, too! Where from?"
"Well, I grew up in Riverside. That's in Southern California."
"Me too!" I smiled back at her, feeling somewhat connected to the stranger.
"Actually," she said, "I grew up in Corona but I live in San Bernadino now."
I felt like, at this point, and in retrospect, this might have been a clue for me to cut and run. After all, a disheveled woman from the Meth capital of the world is asking for money. I felt a little bit uneasy, but a calmness seemed to linger in the air between us.
A few Christmases ago, I prayed that God would let me see people the way He sees them - without their faults and failures, beyond their smeared makeup and dirty clothes, and past their history. And suddenly I saw this girl the way, I imagine, God might: immature, needy, and hurting.
I didn't ask her back story. I didn't bother to question why she would be so far from "home". I didn't even ask what she needed the money for, though I suspected that my reasoning was somewhat selfish and that I didn't really want to know. But I did something unusual.
"Promise me that you are going to use this money wisely." I said. Before the words finished falling from my lips, I felt a wave of regret. Who am I to question her need? And, in all honesty, does it matter what she's going to do with the money once I give it? Once it leaves my hands, I no longer reserve the right to criticize it's final destination and/or purpose. And why would I assume, based on 2 minutes of conversation and a surface glance, that she would be anything less than honest with the money? Feeling guilty and ashamed, I looked into her eyes, then to the ground, hoping she would see my apology in my eyes.
"It's for my kids." She said.
I know, full well, and with good experience, that addicts lie through their teeth, straight faced, and very convincingly if need be. They will tell you anything to get what they want. They even lie to themselves, if that's what it takes. This is not my first experience with addicts, I assure you, and I felt a little sheepish for even having asked this woman such a foolish thing. First of all, if she was an honest woman, how belittling it must feel for me to piously ask her such a thing! And second of all, if she was an addict, what reason would I have to believe her in the first place? I felt ridiculous and small.
For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in,I needed clothes and you clothed me,I was sick and you looked after me,I was in prison and you came to visit me. Matthew 25:35-36
Her reasons for asking seemed small in the shadow of the cross. If she was abusing my generosity, it wasn't for me to decide. But if I said no, knowing that I had a few dollars to give, and she was unable to provide for her children that day, I'm not sure that I would be able to sleep at night. In that brief moment, while her pale face stared at mine, I decided that it was worth the risk. The few dollars I could give her may never hurt me, but it might be all the difference to her. And beyond that, I couldn't know for certain what might become. I reached into my wallet and saw two crisp five-dollar bills, and a wrinkled single. I handed them to her with a smile.
"Good luck, and God bless," I told her.
She ran off quickly and I began to load my groceries into the truck. I cranked the engine and saw, before backing, the woman in my rear view mirror talking with two other women a few rows over. I put my truck back in park and watched in the mirror as they spoke. The woman handed another woman four bills - my three and another - and received something small in return to the palm of her hand. Though I can't be 100% certain, I feel fairly confident that I had just witnessed a drug deal. Immediately, my heart sank like a stone. Through tears, I looked in the rear view to see the woman get into an old Buick with another man, no children, and drive quickly away.
I felt so cheated, and so angry. Part of me wanted to go rattle the "dealer" senseless and maybe slash her tires. Part of me wanted to punch that man driving in the face. And part of me wanted to punch that "needy" woman in the stomach - so that she might feel the weight in the pit of her gut the way I did. How could I have been so foolish?
I shut my eyes and prayed. "God, I thought I was doing what You wanted me to! I was giving freely to someone You placed in my path! God, how could You let me be cheated like that? And, God, how could You let me see that? I was trying to help, but God, I think I failed..."
I will never know what happened to that girl from California. I will never know what she bought, or how much money she earned pan-handling from gullible strangers like me. But I know that she paid a high price. She was willing to lie, cheat, or steal to get whatever it is that she bought, and she put herself at risk. Her body will suffer, her mind will suffer, her soul is suffering - whether that is something she chooses to admit, or not. But for me, my heart aches for her. My heart aches for me.
I feel certain that my money is not the issue here - the issue is that God presented someone to me, who was in need, and I took the easy way out. What she really needed was not my money, but maybe my friendship, my love, or more likely, my God - He has a way of bringing what is dead back to life.
Friends, I ask that you pray for this woman, though I do not know her name. She's on my mind, and I pray for her safety and her eventual return to a loving Heavenly Father, who can provide so much more for her than what my $11 temporarily gave her.
No comments:
Post a Comment