A few weeks ago, my husband and I were having a date night out to the casino. He likes the penny slots and I love live music, so win-win. For an extra measure of good luck, I forced my husband to switch lanes at the last second so we could toss a dollar to a beggar on the side of the road. He risked our reasonable insurance premiums by cutting off a couple cars and stopped on a dime next to the very nice gentleman who was actually not begging, but just waiting for the light to change so he could cross the road.
Whoops. My bad.
Then there was that time when I tried to help the wheelchair-bound-man move a shopping cart. He thought I was stealing the cart and starting yelling at me...at Walmart...during Christmas shopping days.
I've was on the opposite side of this last year when a kind lady, filled with compassion watching my husband and I tussle over the price of shoes at the Salvation Army, handed me a 20.00 bill and walked away before I could recover from my mortification to return it to her.
My point is that we are scared of embarrassingly helping the wrong person. Of being shut out and shut down. There are, of course, worse things to being embarrassed over.
Offer help, accept help. I constantly have to force myself out of the "bootstrap" theology we are taught in the United States. God put us here with instructions to help. People are suffering in mind, body and soul. I want to always make myself available.
"If people wish to help, let them come and see--the reality is more attractive than the abstract idea."
Mother T.
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