I am the kind of person who likes answers. When I read something or someone makes a statement, I need there to be an answer attached to it or I get frustrated. Few things bother me more than when someone does not do this. For the people out there that are like me in this manner, I apologize in advance because I am a bout to do that vey thing.
I left my house tonight like it was any other night. I went to a Redbox near my house, got my movie, and was getting ready to get back into my car when a man approached me. He was older, scruffy, and had nothing with him but a coat, a small bag on his back, and a little plastic cup that he had been drinking out of. Before he got could get past the words, “excuse me,” I knew what he was going to ask me. As he spoke I understood three out of maybe every ten words because of the way he spoke. It seemed as though he had a speech impediment that I assume was only made worse by the slight smell of alcohol that came from. As I dug all the change that I could out of my car I listened the best of my ability and answered him honestly anytime he asked a question. He asked me my name, if I was married, how things were going, and so on and I had no trouble answering any of those until he asked me if I could give him a ride. A ride. Something that I willingly offer people I know or have even just met, in the right circumstances. Something that I have never thought twice about before, but this time I did. So what I found myself saying next now makes me a little sick to think about, I lied. I told him I had somewhere to be. The worst part is, is that as I said it I knew that I was going to regret it, but the words came out anyway. He shook my hand several times, hugged me three times, gave me a little kiss on the cheek, and even closed the door for me after I got in the car. As I left the parking lot and he walked the opposite direction, my stomach ached. Was my preconceived notion that you don’t give rides to strangers more powerful then my compassion? Was my evening lounging in bed with a beer and watching a movie after a long day of classes more important then helping this guy in need? The least I could have done was walk with him over to McDonalds, bought him a coffee, and just sat with him awhile. But that’s not what I did. I chose the easy way out and I lied.
You may be saying, “that’s a little dramatic Miriam,” or even, “you did more than some,” but the problem is, more is not always enough. In my Bible Study last night we talked about the Good Samaritan and what makes up a spiritually healthy life. Conceptually I knew all the answers, but today when present with the opportunity to put what I knew into action, I failed. Tonight my compassion, my love, and my need to make relationship a priority came second to my desire for comfort. It is a moment in time that I regret and wish with everything that is in me that I could go back and change, but life doesn’t work that way. The best I can do is hope that I do better next time.
So like I said, there are no answers or solutions to a problem; only an anecdote. Maybe the point of this is not to tell you the answers, but to provide you (and me for that matter) with the opportunity to evaluate ourselves. Have you ever had a moment like mine? A moment you wish you could redo? Regret is a nasty thing my friends and I think my new goal in life is to stop having them.
