One of my biggest weak points?
Middle class kids.
I work at Starbucks, so I see dozens of tweens and teens coming in with their parents' dollars to buy themselves frappucinos soaked in caramel. Worse, sometimes it's upperclassmen or even college students (the horrors) who recklessly spend their parents' cash.
And I get jealous.
Oh, I hide under the guise of haughtiness, and secretly mocked their unrealistic lives. But a part of me yearns for that level of freedom, for the ability to simply ask mom or dad for cash to spend on...Starbucks.
That was not my reality. At thirteen, I spent a month convincing my dad to give me the $5.00 needed for a church function. At sixteen, I had to borrow money from my brother (who at twelve cleaned out goat pens for a local rancher) so that I could go see a movie with my friend.
At seventeen, my prayer was that my mother could afford to buy meat. (A kind soul ended up donating half a pig after the 4H auction.) At eighteen, I couldn't afford to pay for both food and tuition my first semester of college--even after taking the first semester off to just work.
There was never extra cash tossed my way.
And that's fine--nay--wonderful. I'm incredibly blessed to have not been fed a steady diet of cash my whole life, to have learned how to work hard, trust in the Lord, and accept the kindness of others.
But sometimes the general oblivious about the poor in middle class American frustrates me.
A friend posted a question of facebook--is it better to give to the local "poor", or those truly destitute far away.
My immediate thoughts? "Umm, duh. The poor here FIRST."
But that's because I've lived it and I'm biased.
Caveat: I love, love, love, love that people give to poor in other countries and regions. I think that is exactly what Christians (and all people) are called to do. I just want to highlight the less glorious and noble act of giving to the poor next store.
It is incredibly difficult to be poor in middle class America. To be invited to the same events, work in the same spaces, laugh at the same jokes, but exist in a whole different realm as one peers. It's awkward to be the one who can't afford the $5.00 fee, or a (private) school lunch--private school lunches are for those with money-opposite of public schools--. It's painful to be scolded for wearing the wrong clothes, when those hand-me-downs are all you could find. It's humiliating to listen to trips about Disneyland, Starbucks dates, or cars for 16 year olds, when you're trying to find the funds to feed your family.
No, the cash-poor in middle class American don't live in slums, or have starved faces. They're your neighbors, that family in your church, the lady who dropped out of yoga class. They're all around you.
The poor are in Africa and next store. The poor will always be with you and everywhere.
I remember the hard days, and even now, I marvel at those who cannot fathom not being able to buy groceries, much less make a house payment. And, I feel more than a twinge of jealousy at them, too.
Yet I'm thankful for the privilege of having less, for the ability to give with intention, and for all the blessings that have been bestowed on me.
I want to be the mom who opens her home, fridge, and car to those children from homes with less cash. I want to emulate the actions of the wonderful people who bought my siblings and I lunch, or the teacher who bought me medicine when I was very sick. I want to give with intention to those who need it. I want to love my children and those needy children around them--instead of spoiling my children by handing them cash for no apparent purpose. I want to be like those amazing people who have blessed me--and bless others.
I will seek out the poor in middle class America. Will you?
No comments:
Post a Comment