Beggars Can't Be Choosers

One of the hardest things that I have to deal with here in China, and at home, is how to deal with beggars. The other day I was on an outing and an older beggar woman came up to me. She stuck out her hand and nudged me. I don't like pushy beggars, so I told her no. But she wouldn't stop. And she was standing right next to me. She was intruding herself on our conversation, and kept poking her hand at us. At this point it was really making me angry, and I was tempted to say a bad word in Chinese that basically means, "Get the heck out of here." But I struggle with trying to be Christlike, so I wouldn't allow myself. And part of me wondered if being Christlike meant that I should give to her. But at this point she was really being annoying, and wouldn't leave us alone. I asked her to leave, but she ignored me. I had asked nicely, so I asked a little less nicely, but she wouldn't leave. Finally I gently took her by the shoulders and turned her away from us. I gave her a gentle push and said "Goodbye, goodbye!" This time she finally left.

Later in the day there was another beggar man who looked like he had been in some kind of accident. His face was scarred as if he had been burned, and it appeared his eye had been hurt. I was feeling bad about the previous experience, so I handed him a few coins. He made this sound like "Eh!" It's not a chinese word, but it's meaning was clear. He thought I should be giving him more. I made a noise too, and again it wasn't a chinese word. But it's meaning was kind of like "Pffftt!" Neither of us communicated by words, but he got my message and he left. It was all I could do to not tell him in chinese what I really thought. Maybe I just don't have a very giving heart, but I don't like demanding, ungrateful beggars.

Later in the day I was walking over a bridge to get to the other side of a busy street. There was a man sitting there selling some clay flower he had molded. This man had crippled hands. It looked like a birth defect, rather than arthritis. But he could use his hands enough to mold the clay in to beautiful clay roses. I turned to my friend and told her I was going to buy one to support this man. Here was someone who by every right could beg for a living. But he was doing something to earn a living and keep his self respect. I didn't even really want one of the flowers, but I wanted to support him for not turning himself in to a beggar.

The beggar issue will always be a struggle for me. I don't know if there is ever a rule that will fit every situation. The poor will always be with us, but it's hard to know when to give, and when not to give.