The Cost of Caring

A lot of nights, a woman sleeps outside the main entrance to our building. If we happen to come in late, she will stir and just look at us; and then after an awkward second or so, she lays back down, and we go on inside. I've entertained the idea of leaving her some food or money or whatever before but never actually have.

Tonight, I was returning from Bible study, and she was just closing the little gate and then began to put her stuff down. I came on in, said hi (Well, technically, I said "hola.") and asked her if she needed anything. She noticeably stiffened and said "No." I countered with "Are you sure?" to which she responded "Yes." (with an implied "Please don't ask me again."). So I came on inside, but I couldn't shake the desire to do something, to take her something. So I grabbed some crackers- a meager offering, I know- and went back down.

When I went out, she wasn't there but had already prepared her pallet and arranged her things. So I went over and set the crackers down, and then, as if out of nowhere, she showed back up (from across the street, I think). I said "I know you said that you didn't need anything, but I'm leaving these here for you. Seriously- if you need anything, please let us know." She smiled slightly and thanked me. And that was about it. Seriously: I am not sharing this story to pat myself on the back or to show what a great Christian I am. Because I'm not. It's just that now I feel this near-unbearable ache in my heart for this woman (whose name I did learn, btw).

Shane Claiborne says that the problem isn't that Christians don't care about the poor, but that we don't know them- that we don't know the faces behind the issues we presume to care about. But you know what? It's costly to get to know our fellow men. If I send a check to the United Way, it doesn't stir much within me. But if I hand food to someone, it's an emotional roller coaster. I think that maybe that's why we shy away from getting our hands dirty- because it's costly, not because we simply don't care. Although that's surely a common reason as well. Now that I know this woman's name, I can't help but care about her. I want to hug her. I want to invite her into my house.  I want her to be there tomorrow so that I can give her something else. I want her to be safe.

I've been really upset this week about what's happening in Israel/Palestine. (One only need know me the tiniest bit to know my passion for this issue.) There's so much evil and injustice there, and what makes it most difficult for me is that crappy feeling that I just can't do anything about it. So, while I'm sad right now and sorting through this torment of emotions, I am grateful for the opportunity to engage face-to-face, to do something concrete for someone else.  

“When I ask God why all of these injustices are allowed to exist in the world, I can feel the Spirit whisper to me, ‘You tell me why we allow this to happen. You are my body, my hands, my feet.'”