I just wish I could do more than buy you lunch, Anna.

March 30th, 2014

My heart dropped today when I met Anna Isabel.  I’m certain I had met her once before during that first weekend I was in Costa Rica way back in January.  She was in the doorway of the Cathedral asking for money.  I gave her the spare change I had and she thanked me saying life had been hard lately.  We met there again today after mass.
Lizzie and I were appreciating the beautiful stain glass windows when suddenly small, dirty, worn down, sixty year old, homeless Anna asked us if we could spare any money.
My first thought: “Agh, I don’t really have cash I can spare. I’ll have to tell her I don’t have money.”
Lie.
We have all lied to homeless people have we not?  It is easier to tell them we don’t have cash than it is to explain we don’t want to spare any of it.
However, it is true that I am running very short on money, and I have really been penny-pinching (or rather, colones-pinching) just to get through this last month. Excuse? Maybe.

Yet at the same time, I was in a church.  Anna knew that.  That was why she was there: she knew to look there for help; she had been looking for help there since well before I arrived here.

And I repeat: I was in a church.  As a matter of fact, I had just gotten out of mass.  What is wrong with me that my first thought was “No, I cant spare my 500 colones coin for you because I need it for the bus”? ¢500 = $1.00 people.  I couldn’t even part with a dollar.

Well thank the Lord for Lizzie.  Right as I was explaining I didn’t have coins to spare Lizzie offered to buy her lunch with her credit card.

Lizzie, you really don’t know how much I loved you/how jealous I was of your idea in that moment.

Anna requested McDonald’s, so off we went.  As we walked with her we chatted, trying to learn about her, and just listen to her.  Lizzie bought her lunch and I bought her dinner.
One man told me, “What a good gesture.”  I didn’t feel like we were doing anything special or anything extraordinary.

My heart dropped again when suddenly I felt everyone looking at us causing a feeling of shame to come over me. (More shame than I was already feeling for trying to deny the poor right after mass.)
I felt like we were being judged for buying her food.  It was clear that Lizzie and I were gringas… I mean, Lizzie’s blonde, and that’s the dead giveaway number one.   But I saw the McDonald’s employees looking at us and whispering about us.  Customers in line kept turning around to look at us.

Thoughts flooded into my head that everyone must have been thinking:
“Oh the stupid gringas got suckered into buying this lady food.”
“Do they not know she does this everyday?”
“They’re getting taken advantage of, silly gringas.”
“Oh tourists just aren’t used to seeing poverty.”
“They must think they’re doing something really good.”

Now, I don’t actually know that anyone was thinking any of those things.  So why was I thinking those things?  Why did I feel embarrassed to be there?  And what does it matter what any of them think anyway?
When I realized how stupid I was being, and told myself we were doing the right thing (but still nothing special) I started to feel better.
I told myself “Melissa, you are literally doing what is expected of you as a Catholic.  Jesus said for you to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and shelter the homeless.  You showed love and mercy to someone today by doing just that.  And that is what God expects of you.”

Feed the hungry, clothe the naked, shelter the homeless.  It is far and few between that I help the poor.  Seeing how happy we made Anna and knowing that the ¢3600 colones I spent today went to her eating dinner was good.

I didn’t do anything incredible, I just finally  started doing what I should be doing- helping the poor how I can.

But didn’t I get that good little feeling inside from doing something good for someone else? Nope.  Not even a little bit.  Even now, as I write this I don’t feel like I was the good Samaritan today.  I don’t feel like I paid it forward.  I still have that feeling in the pit of my stomach from my initial response.  I don’t think that’s bad.  I think I needed a little perspective.

Us college students complain about being “poor”.  Poor us with our smart phones, tablets, laptops, cars, and brand new clothing.  We don’t know what it means to be poor; not in comparison to Anna, the people on the streets of Denver, heck even the people on the streets of Greeley, my little college town back home.  They live tough lives.  We live privileged lives.  I can afford to buy a person lunch every once in a while.  That is the least I can do.

 

El catedral de Costa Rica