Helping or Enabling?

I vowed to myself long ago that I would never give cash to a stranger who approached me with that request. I don't care what or how convincing the story is, I won't budge. What solidified this decision for me was a guest speaker who came to visit my college writing class (back in 2003...my word, has it been 6 years?). The guest (I believe his name was Spencer) worked at a local homeless shelter/rehab facility and was a friend of my professor, Chris Dew. Hearing Spencer's first-hand experience with addicts (most of whom were homeless) made me decide that the worst thing I could do was give them money.

This is very different from my father's mentality which goes something like this: "It's not my job to know what they're going to spend it on. It's my job to give. What they do with it is between them and God. If I get to heaven and Jesus says, 'John, why didn't you give me help when I asked you?', I'll respond by saying, 'I did help you. Why did you go spend it on blow?'"

Yup, that's my dad.

What I'm willing to do, instead, is give the person food or buy them what they need if I'm in a position to do so. The corner of I-95 and Park is a typical place for people to hang out and ask for money, especially because it's one of the longest stop-lights in Jacksonville, I'm convinced. I have rolled down my window, listened to their request, and told them no, "But would you like this half of a sandwich I didn't eat?" Sometimes I get a taker, other times they turn and walk away.

This past Wednesday evening, I was about to walk into a CVS when a young man approached me with a baby girl in a shopping cart. He started telling me his story and something about his baby daughter (who looked totally healthy), and when he finally said, "So if you could spare some change or cash..." I told him I didn't have any cash (which was true). He was about to walk away and I asked him what he needed for his daughter. He looked at me for a second, confused. "I won't give you cash, but I'm about to go into CVS and can buy what you need for her." Still looking a little dumbfounded he said, "Size 4 diapers, a drink, and a snack." Before I went in, I looked at him and almost demanded that he wait right there. "Oh, well my mom's car is right over there in the parking lot", he said. "No, you need to wait right here for your stuff." He agreed. s

The whole time I was in CVS, I kept worrying that this was going to be some big joke: I'd buy the stuff, walk outside, and he'd magically disappear. Thankfully, he was still there, and his mom was there too. They thanked me and I went on my way.

Now, I'm happy to help, and I'm glad that I had the opportunity to do so. But am I convinced that they were actually in need? No. It all seemed like a ploy. This man was wheeling this baby girl around the entire parking lot, going from person to person. It just seemed...whack, for lack of a better word. Oh well.

I just hate to think that I'm enabling someone. What do you think??

Something Cool

One of the things we did during our 40-day program Monday night sessions was a guided meditation followed by a written response. Before we started, everyone was given a small piece of paper and writing utensil. With eyes closed, Melanie led us through a meditation that went something like this:

You are walking down a dirt road. There are rocks and boulders on either side. No one is in sight. You feel the hot air on your skin and look up at the sky and trees as you walk. Far off in the distance, you see a figure. As you keep walking, you realize that it's another person. Even closer, you realize it is a child. You are a few feet away from the child now, and you realize that this child is you. You bend down to look into his/her/your eyes for a moment. You want to give this child one piece of advice, the most important piece you can fathom now that you are an adult. You hold the child by the shoulders, look into her/her eyes and tell them that one thing. You embrace.

After coming out of the meditation, we opened our eyes and Melanie asked us to write down that once piece of advice on the paper. We then folded it up and passed it to the right and the left and the right, over and over again until our paper had traveled to the other side of the circle. We were then allowed to unfold and read the advice someone else gave to him/herself as a child. The one I received was as follows:

You can always change your way of thinking and being no matter where you come from.

I cherish this for many reasons, but mostly because it came from the depths of another person's soul, memory, meditation. It's such an intimate thing, and the fact that we could share that with each other as a group was extremely powerful.

So, what one thing would you tell yourself, as a child?

What advice did I give my child-self?: Love.