Making the World a Better Place part 2
Man Who Wept on My Porch
It was a week or two before Christmas, and around 7 pm when I heard my daughter yelling that someone was at the door. My husband wasn’t home and having grown up in Detroit, I shouted back, “Don’t open the door!”
I paused the movie that we were watching, went to the front door, and looked out to see who was there. I had never seen the man standing on my porch, but he really didn’t look like he was selling anything, which made me more suspicious. After pausing for a few more seconds, I decided to crack open the door, going against all my better judgement.
He said hello and explained himself, “I lost my job several months ago, I have been trying to find another one but haven’t been able to.”
He was obviously very cold, under dressed for the weather. “I am trying to earn money for the Holidays.”
[Side note: I hear you, this sounds like a well-crafted story on his part. I am not a gullible person, the thought certainly crossed my mind. If this guy was lying, he should seriously consider a career in acting.]Continuing, he explained that he attended a local church, and the minister suggested he go door-to-door and offer to shovel snow or some other odd jobs for pay. His voice was cracking. I spoke up, “Can you please wait there for a moment?” I closed and locked the door, aware of how insulting this could be to him. Everything about my body language and behavior was communicating my lack of trust for him.
By now, all three of my kids were there wondering what was going on. I prayed (not aloud); “God, what do you want me to do, please give me wisdom.” Opening the door again, just a crack, with my foot planted on the other side, I said “you look really cold, would you like some hot tea?”
He burst into tears, “That would be really nice. Thank you so much.”
I told him that I would be right back and apologized for not inviting him in, then shut and locked the door again and ran to boil the water and grab a tea bag. A few minutes later, I opened the door, handed him a ceramic mug, asked him to wait again. After shutting and locking the door, I run to find some cash while fielding a barrage of questions from my kids.
I honestly can’t recall how much I gave him, but it was around $50. When I opened the door that time, I stepped out onto the porch. He started crying again, thanking me over and over. He told me that he wanted to get his daughter a Christmas gift and about what it had been like for he and his family since he lost his job. He clearly needed someone to talk to, someone to listen to him and understand. I was out there for at least 5 minutes. He finished his tea, took my hand, and thanked me again, “God bless you, thank you.”
He was on my mind all evening, I felt great empathy for him. Whatever his situation, it was sad and difficult, and I was grateful to have helped him in some small way. None of us are exempt from financial calamity, illness, tragedy – the deep pain that life can bring. I could be in his shoes and he in mine; it was deeply humbling. Because that man knocked on my door and because I decided to listen to him, I became profoundly aware of how blessed I was materially and otherwise. That felt to me like a gift from God.
I have to ask myself if I really have the ability to judge accurately whether someone is worthy of my help or not. Could he have been lying? Perhaps, but what if he wasn’t? We do have to exercise wisdom and caution. I decided a while ago that I would pray about each situation as is arises, because only God knows what is right. It seems wrong to excuse myself from helping someone under the blanket assumption that they are conning me or that they will spend the money on drugs. I would rather give to someone who was insincere than risk not giving to someone in desperate need.
read about the lady who hugged me in Michael’s parking lot in Making the World a Better Place part 3...