I started noticing a pattern. I've abruptly come to expect that alongside places of abundance come people in need. I'll be more specific.
It no longer surprises me to be approached and asked for money outside the grocery store or market where I live. I don't know if this is a standard thing, a local one, or if I just have a magnet for this particular experience. In particular, the past few weeks there's almost a guarantee that as I walk out of the super- or mini-market of my choosing, someone weaving across the parking lot or the sidewalk will catch my eye. And I'll know what's coming.
"Ma'am, do you have 86 cents? I just need bus fare."
"Hi there. I got three kids in my car broken down by the church over there and I need help getting them on the bus to get home."
"I'm not homeless or anything, I just don't have money on me right now, could you help me out?"
"My #%$$^ car died on me again-- it's the carburator, I know-- and I'm wondering if you have some spare money?"
Let's be clear here. I've often just walked to the market. And I usually come out with one, maybe two, bags of simple foods. Some milk, pasta, fruits, vegetables. I guess I just look kind. Or gullible. Or something. Yes, sometimes I give. Sometimes I regret it. Sometimes I say no. Sometimes I regret that, too. Almost always, the pieces of their story become clearer to me as I mull them over and walk away. Very often, I think of another way it would have been good for me to help, to extend mercy. I mean really, I do have jumper cables and know how to use them. What if I had offered that to the mom and her kids instead of bus fare?
It's not so much the "what ifs" that concern me, though. Those will always be there, and I hope I'll always be learning and listening more closely for ways to respond to my brothers and sisters who approach me, wherever it may be. What digs under my skin is the tableau of plenty and want mixing and merging in a simple parking lot. A building filled with stuff, people with means to buy stuff, and people who are hoping to find some kind of help (or stuff) by drifting in that intersection. But not just any stuff-- at the market, the stuff in question is food, the great leveler. We all need it. In sharing food we share something more than calories. And in seeking food we seek to quell more than stomach pangs. Food mediates fellowship.
I've written before about the power of
table fellowship-- sitting around, sharing a meal. Now I begin to think about the fellowship of gathering and seeking food and the unequal footing of the marketplace. Bumping into abundance, comes need. Assaulting my comfort and confidence comes the question, "Can you spare...?"
Can't believe it's already here. 
