Give Me Ten Dollars

A woman with a medical mask on her face approached me at night in the parking lot of Ocean State Job Lot when I was walking towards my car. I assumed we were heading in the same direction to look for our cars because her shopping cart veered towards me. I glanced her way and thought she had a look on her face that said she was lost. Easy enough to assume because I was trying to find my car in the dark. I was about to ask if she needed help finding her car but she beat me to the conversation.

I said, “Hello,” and she said, “Can you give me ten dollahs?”
I responded, “Why do you need ten dollars?”
She said for food, “You give me ten dollah and I give you this turkey.”
She sounded Asian. Maybe late 60s? It was hard to tell. In part because she had a medical mask over her mouth. She was short with dark hair, a little plump and walked bow legged pushing her grocery cart which had two or three plastic bags filled with stuff. It was hard to tell if they were fresh items or empty containers, now trash.

Every now and then she pulled her medical mask off her mouth to show her smiling cheekbones. After I accessed the parking lot and noted we were in a lit spot, I hung with her to be attentive to her request.

Again she repeated herself and offered to give me her turkey if I gave her ten dollars.
I asked, “Why don’t you want your turkey?”
“No, I don’t want turkey.”
“Where’d you get the turkey?”
“Someone at shop rite gave it to me but I don’t want turkey, I want ten dollah. I give you turkey, you give me money.”
“Thank you, but I don’t want your turkey.”
She exclaims, “I have family to feed.”

I couldn’t help myself so I said, “If you need food, do you know how many people you can feed with this turkey? And then you can make soup with the carcass. All you need are a few vegetables for the soup.” She waves her hand to say, nahhh, I don’t want it. 

We both stood our ground and continued to quibble over her turkey, accessing the quality and value of the goods for sale, as if at an open air street market. Her request for money demanded this consideration out of respect for her effort.

 

Then I reached in her carriage to feel the turkey to see if it was cold or luke warm. It was very cold. Not solid frozen cold, but cold. Perhaps there was a chance part of  her story was true. Then I thought, well what does she eat if she doesn’t want turkey? Maybe she doesn’t like turkey. Maybe she wants rice and vegetables. Or fish or pork. I played all these scenarios until I realized she doesn’t look like she’s starving. The bags in her cart were filled with food containers. And she scrunched her face when I suggested I could give her money to buy vegetables to make turkey soup. So why did she accept the turkey if she doesn’t eat turkey. Maybe we’re having a language barrier? But she had seemed pretty clear about her needs. No turkey. No soup. Want money. Feed family. Christmas. You give me money. I give you turkey. So really after about fifteen minutes or so, we could have been Pictionary partners!

I asked where her car was but she didn’t give me a sound answer. “Well where are you going,” I asked? She waved her hand ‘over there’  indicating somewhere in walking distance. For someone who knew her needs, all of a sudden she was foggy.  She probably wants the money to buy booze at the liquor store across the street. I mean, I’ve been approached enough times in my life to know that scenario. Can you help me? My car broke down. I need gas. I need bus fair. I just need… And some people are bold enough to demand their need rather than disguise it while others are down right rude.

I have said, “No,” plenty of times to people. I respond according to how I feel led by the spirit. I’m sure I may have missed the mark a few times, as it’s always a judgment call, but I give it my best in how I’m designed.

We have a good friend who stops by for cans and bottles. He now has his own personal bucket so he can come by anytime and take whatever’s there. And if we’re home, he comes into our kitchen to warm up and catch up on conversation. How far he’s come from thirteen plus years of preferring to live in the woods behind the local fast food joints or under the bridges. He’ll say he misses living outside, but ask him that on a cold rainy or snow driven day, and he’s glad to be sheltered in a one room apartment for the past two years. Leaning on our kitchen bar stool, he and Curtis get into some good ‘ole boy belly laughs because frankly our friend is a riot. And then it comes. He tells us how busy his week will be with doctors appointments and the hassle of taking buses from this town to that town for the same standing doctor appointment he has had, yet again, for the umpteenth time this year.

And on this visit, I know what’s coming next. The cans aren’t enough. Curtis gives me the look to leave the room discreetly and see if I have an extra $3.00 or 5.00. There have been plenty of times when we didn’t accommodate him, this just wasn’t one of those times. I look through my purse, walk back into the kitchen and slip it into Curtis’ palm. After the visit, he walks our friend out of the house and they have a man to man on the mud-stoop. Without embarrassing him in front of me, he sends our friend off with dignity so he can get to his “maintenance-doctor appointment.”

So I wondered about this lady pushing a cold turkey in her carriage asking for money. What gig was she up to? It seemed there were holes in her story and pieces of it wavered as we stood in the middle of the parking lot under the lights.

Maybe she had all her faculties and knew exactly what she wanted and we were just playing charades because of an intermittent language barrier. Or maybe she was spinning and working it thinking she got a live one because I engaged her. Whatever the reason, I knew I wasn’t going to take her turkey and I didn’t feel led to hand her ten dollars.

What I do know is I felt moved to give her something so I asked her to wait a minute while I go check for anything in my car. I knew I had $5.00 on me but I wasn’t going to open my purse right in front of her. It still pays to be wise and not let my guard down. After I pretended to rifle through my bag, I walked back to her carriage and handed her the money. She pulled her medical mask off her face again and smiled with thankful giddiness. Because it was dark, I hadn’t realized she was wearing medical gloves until she shook my hand and held it for a moment before hugging me. Then she stroked my hair telling me it was pretty. We wished each other a Merry Christmas then she pushed her carriage back towards the store.

Maybe the lady needed money or Christmas gifts or to feed her family. Maybe she was lying. Regardless, before I handed her the money, I had to check my heart about my decision. I had to guard against being incensed that I’m being solicited, lied to or taken for granted. I’m challenged to look at a situation such as this, with kindness, rather than prideful logic. I concluded, no matter what her reason was, it didn’t matter.

It wasn’t about the turkey or the money.

Rather it became about listening to her, giving her a smile, and treating her with love because her concerns were important to her. It was about handing her a few dollars so that no matter what fragile or broken place she was in at this time of her life, she could walk away with dignity.

Sometimes I get it right. Sometimes I blow it. I strive to handle situations like this with kindness, love, dignity and wisdom and sometimes that comes in the form of saying no and walking away. But I think what makes the difference is the heart of the matter, the effort of trying to do it right.

When our friend goes to his maintenance-doctor-booze-appointment or this lady goes to get whatever with that five bucks, it’s not about me having to understand everything. In fact it’s not even about me.

At the end of the day, it’s about the effort I made to be a light to somebody. I learn that my job is to try to be kind. I believe that that is God’s currency and that is something He can work with.

What unique encounter have you been challenged with?