am i a bad person?

This weekend Isaac is away doing his military training. Although he enjoys the military, we are both getting tired of being apart and happy that the course is winding down. His schedule has been a little demanding for him, but the extra money has kept us buoyant through the long school year.

Today I was getting ready to go to work for 3 o'clock. I hadn't eaten lunch yet and was tempted to just order something at the restaurant when I got there. No, I decided. Even with the discount, it doesn't make sense to spend money on dinner when we have so many groceries in the apartment. I threw together a peanut butter and jam sandwich and tossed it in my purse.

As I hurried down the sidewalk to make it to work on time, a man who appeared to be in his late twenties was walking briskly in the opposite direction, toward me. He stood tall and straight, his blue winter jacket unzipped and blowing behind him. He must have been six feet tall.

As we approached each other, he looked at me and said, "Got any change to spare?"

I couldn't help it. I laughed and blurted out loudly:

"Uh...no. I'm on my way to minimum wage job!"

We had this short exchange as we passed each other, and we each just kept walking. He didn't even miss a beat. Just walking on his way and, hey, here comes a girl, why not hit her up for change? She says no? Shrug, keep walking.

This bugs me. I love Halifax, but I am really sick of being asked for spare change. I've been asked while making deliveries for the engraving shop (my other minimum wage job!), walking by a middle-aged couple sitting on a bench sucking on cigarettes and asking me for money. I'm approached by men who are my father's age asking me for money. Have you no shame? You approach a woman in her early twenties, probably a student, wanting to bum off her? You should be on the giving end here, not the taking end! I can't afford to smoke -- why can you? You are healthy enough to walk the streets, mentally stable enough to reason strangers into giving you money (stories of needing change for the bus -- awkward when you see the same guy doing it over and over again!), and able to communicate clearly. Go deliver newspapers!

Gahhh

A guy in our small group last year works in addictions services in the city. He shakes his head at my rants and says I don't understand urban poverty, addictions, and mental health issues. He says I need to work on my compassion. Maybe so. I tried to work on my compassion; I started carrying a clementine in my purse. I offered it to a man on the street who asked me for money -- "No thanks." What?? Do you have canker sores or something?

There are two homeless people I like in this city:  one man with a great big white beard and watery blue eyes and another man who holds out a gnarled Tim Horton's cup outside the mall where our church meets.

The Tim Horton's guy always smiles and wishes us a good day, even though I never give him money. He's pleasant; he adds something to the city. The man with the beard is obviously mentally unstable. I have given him food before. This is a ridiculous story in itself. He walked by me asking for money and I said no. I remembered that I was trying to work on my compassion so I turned around and asked why he wanted money. He said for food. I was on my way home from work and still had some food in my lunch bag. I unzipped it and gave him my granola bar. Both of our eyes fell on the soft cinnamon bun in my lunch bag. I looked at the bun, picked it up, looked at him and said, "But you can't have my cinnamon bun." Needless to say, as I walked away I was shaking my head -- why did I do that??? But he  received my granola bar gladly, with a huge grin and even an awkward side-hug.

Random ramblings ...