Hometown Rankin - February & March 2016

Mary Ann Kirby
couple of years ago, I was walking
back to my then-downtown office
from lunch and noticed a man up
ahead that clearly looked as if he had fallen
on hard times. He was leaning against the
wall watching as I approached and just as
I did, asked if I had a dollar to spare. Now
I knew he was going to ask me that but
what proceeded to come out of my mouth
was astonishing, even to me. I said, “I don’t
have a dollar. I even had to charge my lunch.”
And while I’m quite certain the guy doesn’t
take American Express or care, for that
matter, that I’d been faced with the grueling
decision between cash or credit, he still
managed a gracious nod as I passed him by.
I felt guilty–and ridiculous.
It got me to thinking, though, as I
continued on, what should I have said?
Better yet, what could I have done? It was
the second incident in as many weeks that
left me with the same question.
The week before, my son and I had made
a trip to Yazoo City to see my grandmother.
On the way there, I noticed an older man
standing alongside the highway trying to
fix his bicycle. His front wheel was lying on
the ground and there was a sign on the back
of his bike that said, “Broke and hungry.”
I instantly wished I’d known how to fix a
bicycle–but kept driving, nonetheless. I
mean, you never know about people, right?
Well three hours later on our way back,
we passed that same man now riding his
repaired bike down the shoulder of that
same highway having made it a good
distance from the original sighting. It was
as if God was giving me a second chance
to redeem myself. I told my son, “I wish
there was some way we could help him,”
and he said, “OK, but how?” And in the
time it took us to wrestle with what to do,
at 70 miles per hour, we had traveled
another half-mile down the road–still
not stopping. It weighed on me.
So that day, downtown, as I carried my
purse in the crook of my arm channeling
my inner Reese Witherspoon in Legally
Blonde, I once again failed the exercise
with which I was presented. The man on
the street was seemingly broke and in need
and I did nothing to help him. You know,
Lazarus was overlooked repeatedly and
look how that story ended.
How else could I have helped? A
sandwich and a bottle of water may have
done just the trick–just like the sandwich
and bottle of water I’d bought myself a
half-hour earlier. I mean, the fact that he’s
willing to suffer an existence of poverty
and begging rather than turn to a life of
crime suggests to me that he might actually
be of high moral character. I say that sort
of jokingly, of course. The point is, who are
we to judge? And what does that sandwich
cost in the grand scheme of things? Well,
based on the story of Lazarus, it could cost
me everything.
Regardless of how we act or think in
those situations, we could each do a little
more to help those who have a lot less.
And in reality, the “beggars” in our lives
are not limited to those penniless and on
street corners. We’re surrounded by people
starving emotionally, spiritually, and
socially–and how we feed them matters.
So as we embark upon a new year,
I’d like to offer a prayer for peace and
new beginnings. I pray that joy will fill
our days, peace will fill our hearts, and love
will fill our lives. I pray that we’ll be blessed
with all the good things God has to give
and that we will all live in love and truth
in 2016. n
Hometown Rankin • 31