On my way out of our building the cleaning lady stopped me. I thought we were talking (again) about how often she is supposed to clean our place and for how much money.
This was frustrating. We’ve had this conversation before. More than once. Partly because I don’t speak enough Bangla to really communicate clearly. And partly because the very prospect of cleaning for foreigners sparked a competition, bidding war, and then full-fledged argument between this cleaning lady and the woman who occasionally watches the kids in our community. And all because we were wrestling with how simple or appropriate it was for us to have someone else clean our space and then how much we should pay to provide a fair and locally appropriate wage to someone who really needs it. We were trying to figure out what was the best expression of how to live in love here, delayed our decision, and we created a conflict.
So I was frustrated that we were again talking about cleaning.
My frustration shifted, but didn’t really go away, once I realized she wasn’t really asking about that. Her son broke her arm. The doctor wanted a lot of money for surgery. “gorib” she said. Poor. We are poor.
Now I was frustrated for a totally different reason. Frustrated at her poverty. At her being forced to degrade herself into begging from me in the stairwell. At my unwillingness to just give her that much money (for a variety of very good reasons). At my inability to think of anything else to do.
I’m in a coffee shopping drinking a reasonably priced cup of coffee and answering emails. On the way here I passed by two beggars, one in a wheelchair. I didn’t even stop to talk. The price of my coffee could have fed them for a few days probably. But most of it would’ve gone to the person who “owns” the street they beg on and to whom they give a percentage of all they get.
This place certainly adds a lot of ambiguity to the phrase “good news to the poor”. I don’t really want an easy answer to this. I don’t want to feel comfortable about my interactions with beggars, because I don’t want to be comfortable about a world where some people live in opulence and others have to sell their dignity for food.
Free me from these binds Lord
I am choking on the gifts this world gives Jesus
I am waiting on your love
Free me lord to live this life
Believing all I really have is you
I am waiting on your love
-Justin McRoberts
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4 comments:
I really appreciate hearing your experiences, thoughts and frustration. It reminds me of my need to continue to wrestle with these things even here in the usa.
thank you for sharing about some of the harder realities you're navigating and also for telling us what's true--i'm grateful to see the good questions you are engaging as you wade through all this grit. keep paddling!
thanks for your authentic sharing! What a journey you are on and I am humbled by what you write. I praise you for seeking wisdom to do the "right" thing b/c giving $$ may not always be the correct response, but how can you NOT think about it? You are in our prayers, Kenny, and this post reminds me to 'up the ante' so you are always provided with the 'right response'! bless you!
missed this one.
praying for grace as you wrestle.
(i had forgotten about that song, it was deeply meaningful to me during my dts... thanks for the reminder.)
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