Roses from the Heart
I have to say, aside from a very sweet candy packet sent to me in high school (at a time when I was completely unable to “get it” and hence completely missed the fact that a guy liked me… oops), I’ve never gotten a real Valentine’s Day gift, so, no, this isn’t a “V-Day” post…
Rather, this is about one of “my” beggars. Remember back in October, when I posted somewhat regularly (sorry!), and talked about my decision to give to beggars? Well, I can gladly say I’ve kept up with it, and changed the rules around a bit. I have some “regulars” that I give to, those who I see frequently enough that we recognise each other. A couple of these people beg at my church. One of them often begs at my metro stop.
In the beginning, because I saw her so frequently, I tried to give to the lady at the metro stop once or twice a week, figuring I couldn’t give more. But around Christmas, I gave everybody extra, and I started giving the lady at my metro stop something every time. My “limits” were only small hurdles I’d built for myself.
She’s always in the same coat. She has a worn-looking crutch, and a worn-looking face, but it’s always made up a little bit, giving her a look oddly cheery despite her usual implacable sad face. For over a month, I gave to her every time I saw her, and she smiled at me, and, like many beggars, thanked me profusely and, I think, asked God to bless me. Then, a couple weeks ago, she actually told me to stop giving to her- I couldn’t understand it exactly, but I think she was saying something like, “I’m fine, you don’t have to give all the time.”
When you’ve seem somebody with a bandaged foot begging on the barely sheltered stairway of your metro station at midnight, well, it stays with you. So I left off for about a week, before giving her another small bill and saying, “Sometimes it’s possible.”
I was going up the stairs after work and saw her tonight, and I was debating whether I should give tonight or not when she stopped me. Tonight, she’s selling some roses, too, 100 roubles for 5 (they don’t do dozens here). She told me to take some, so I picked up a pack of red ones, and she told me to take some white ones, too. For 200 rubles to help someone who in some sense is nearly a friend, well, it’s not much.
But when I reached for my wallet, she told me not to pay. I thanked her a lot, and as I started to leave she asked me my name and I asked hers. Please remember Masha in your prayers.
There are many things I could say, but it comes down to the love of God touching us through each other. She’s given more than I have, I who have plenty, and I can never repay her. Ten roses sit in a jar on my dresser because the seed of generosity God planted in me grew in both our hearts. I couldn’t keep my hard face on for the walk home– that face I use because everyone here seems to wear one. I simply cradled the flowers and smiled to myself.
The idea of a garden flows throughout literature and popular metaphor for a reason. It seems to me that God is ever looking to plant a new Eden in our hearts. I am usually a poor gardener, but in this one small corner of it, I can see the true Gardener’s work, and it is good.
