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| Triskele or Triskelion Source: Ancient Symbols |
So. When I sat brooding last night (a favorite sleepless pastime) and I realized that I'd done three things in one day that really defy my declarations about who I intend to be, I had to sit up and take note.
When Ruby corrected me about how she should behave toward another mean kid at school, she and Holden both excitedly reiterated Jesus' words: repay cruelty, unkindness, and violence with gentleness, love, and grace. Their words and simple commitment to what they'd heard the night before sat in the back of my head throughout the day yesterday.
They had practice yesterday morning for a choir rehearsal at church, and I dropped them off for practice and left to take care of a few errands for the 90 minutes they were occupied. At 12:30 prompt, I rolled into the parking lot and prepared to go into the building.
As I sat in my car, checking my phone for last minute updates, a large green truck pulled up beside me and a man rolled down his window and motioned to me.
Our church sits in what was once an affluent neighborhood. Some of the first houses around the Johnson Space Center are in our neighborhood, and our church was founded in 1965 just four years after the inception of the Manned Spaceflight Center, now JSC. Fifty-three years later, though, it is surrounded on two sides by low-income housing, and its third side only recently was converted to parking and a sports field, after a third, blighted complex was purchased and demolished. In recent years, several murders have taken place in these apartments. Sometimes people panhandle outside the church, begging for money from parishioners as we leave church. While we want to love and cherish our neighbors, it sometimes feels frightening to do so.
Just a few days before, I sat in small group, and friends and I discussed our church's sometimes cold reception to some of the neediest people in our community. We talked about the ways we need to challenge each other simply to meet needs without stopping to question whether the person truly needs it or deserves it.
All of this flashed through my mind as I rolled down my own window. He explained that his wife, who had been in labor at a local hospital, had been life-flighted to a different hospital downtown. He wanted to go and be with her, but parking was $8. His unemployment hadn't come in, so he didn't have money to park. He was looking for our pastor; he needed money. The women inside with the children had turned him away. His eyes were bloodshot. I had $9 in my wallet, and I had our pastor's e-mail address.
I should have handed him the money. Maybe he would have used it to get drunk. Maybe he would have used it to see his wife. I should have given it to him, and left the rest between him and God, but I didn't. I should have messaged the pastor to see if he knew the guy. Instead, I repeated several times that I was sorry, and I couldn't help him. I let him drive away even as everything good inside me screamed at me to flag him down and give him the money.
Right now, other people are taking care of my family in so many ways. We have been gifted money, cleaning help, food, transportation, childcare, and even therapy sessions. No one asks whether I am buying Mark an exorbitant Christmas gift or how much I eat out or even whether I still drink a lot of Starbucks. They simply give with love and in the knowledge that we are in this together while Mark battles his cancer.
And I refused to hand a man $8 to go see his wife at the hospital. This is depraved greed and cowardice. I wasn't afraid of that man. I was afraid of feeling like I had been duped. Of losing precious time in my day to pull out more cash to pay the kids for the eggs. In the parking lot of my own church, I had no good excuse to say no. I tell everyone that I want to be a walking example of generosity in the world, and I turned away the "least among us" over eight dollars.
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