The other night as I pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant where I was meeting a group of friends, a man tried to wave me down at the curb.  He was holding the usual “Help; I need money” sign.  A woman was standing next to him.  She looked at me in a pleading way, with her hands in the prayer position.    There was a stroller in front of her.  Although it was 6:30 p.m. it was still warm and they were in what little shade a tiny tree had to offer.  I quickly looked away, drove on past, and had two thoughts, “Is the stroller a ploy?” and “I’ll get to the restaurant and see if Ed thought they were legitimate and if he gave them money.”

I met my husband and a friend at the restaurant.  Both said that the man and woman were not in the parking lot when they had arrived.  Later another friend arrived and she said she had talked with them, found out the situation (stranded with a shredded tire and no money), and had given them money.   I pushed the pleading family to the back of my mind.

The next morning, the image of that family woke me up with a start and with the thought, “That was Jesus standing at the curb!”  Shame flooded my very being.  Why didn’t I at least stop and talk with them?  It wasn’t as if they were in a busy intersection where there was no place to pull over!  Their choice of location should have told me they weren’t professional beggars—it wasn’t a corner that was going to garner them much attention.  And it wasn’t as though I didn’t have any cash on me or the time! Although I didn’t remember it at the time, I had money stashed away in my purse for that very purpose!  And they had a child with them!  Twenty-one years ago I was stranded with a broken-down car away from home with an infant.   Oh my, what did I do?  When did my heart become so hardened?

I remember a phrase that I heard years ago and wholeheartedly agreed with and had promised it would be one to live by, “You never regret giving too much.”  That implied that you will regret giving too little, or in this case, not at all.  Why did I not remember that the other night?  I spent the morning thinking about this and asking for God’s forgiveness.  I didn’t worry so much about the family because they had told my friend that a good Samaritan had told them that her church would help them the next day, but that didn’t make my turning my back on them any less repulsive and shameful to them and God that night or to me in the cold, hard light of day.

This hasn’t been easy to write.  I know that I let Jesus down that night, and I hope and pray that there have been others who have eased the stress of that little family and been able to help them on their way.  Helping people is a privilege and an honor and a blessing.  I pray that I won’t forget this lesson.

Then he will answer them, saying, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.’
Matthew 25:45