Nov 9 - Who's Teaching Who?

These pictures are unrelated to the post, but I thought I'd include them because they are from the same morning, they show off Jonah's beautiful sweater that a favorite friend made him, and anyway, what's a baby blog post with no pictures?

In case it's not clear to anyone, I'm writing this because of what it says about Isaac, not about me.

We found ourselves in the house one Monday morning with nothing to do - a situation I try to avoid - so I decided it would be errand day. In my childhood, I saw errands as chores - not fun - so I was surprised when Isaac sped through his breakfast and said "Go errands please!"

We needed to go to the bakery (bread heaven right here in our neighborhood), Target (to exchange a newborn outfit that Jonah wouldn't fit into for long), then the grocery store. What I thought would be an uneventful and somewhat tedious outing (getting 2 kids in and out of the car three times) turned out to be a wonderful morning with Isaac and a learning experience for both of us.

I was standing in the Target parking lot when a beggar made his way toward us. I'd just clicked the infant carrier into the top of a grocery cart, Isaac was still buckled into his carseat in the car, and suddenly there was this man with a long beard and wild eyes standing too close, just on the other side of the cart. With my tiny baby between us, and my big baby stuck in the car, we were vulnerable. If I needed to, I couldn't quickly run away with Jonah or drive away with Isaac without leaving one child behind. I just wanted the man to leave.

He asked me for money, and asked again, and I just shook my head and said sorry, not making eye contact or inviting further conversation. Hoping that a polite but minimal response would send him on to the next car as soon as possible.

He looked like he was about to leave, and I felt relief, until he looked straight at me and said the quiet words I heard in my head all day: "I'm just hungry."

And then he moved on.

I'm sure he had no idea what kind of position he'd put me in. And besides, I don't usually give money to beggars because I don't know what they're going to do with it or how much help it could really be. After the eye-opening street life of Paris, I'm a cynic. I always feel like I'm about to get tricked.

I pushed the cart to Isaac's door and unbuckled him, put him in the back of the cart. Relief. Both boys together, contained, safe.

Then I looked for the man. He was asking someone else for money, a few cars down on the other side of the row. I looked for cash in my wallet, thinking I'd give him a five. All I had were ones and a few twenties. I looked at my Highlander, my beautiful boys, and of course I pulled out a twenty. I tucked it in my pocket and put away my wallet.

I thought we'd have to track him down, but just then, he was back in front of us again. He started to talk, then mumbled, "Oh, I already asked you."

He turned, and I said, "Here, I have something for you." Handed him the twenty, watched his eyes light up and heard his gleeful "Yes!"

I wondered what he would spend it on - if he would really go buy food - and I hoped it would last a couple of meals and not fund comforts instead like alcohol or cigarettes. I was still cynical. But then his face changed as he looked at the bill; his eyes looked wet, and he said, "You're going to make me cry." He pointed to a fast-food restaurant across the parking lot and said he was going there right away to get something to eat. His emotion was genuine, heart-wrenching, and I found that even though I thought I was helping someone else, I was the one who came away with a warmth inside that lasted all week. It was such a small thing, and others do so much more than I do with all my unrealized good intentions. But this meant a lot - to both of us.

And to a third person too. Once we were inside, I asked Isaac if he'd heard the man asking for money. I explained that some people don't have any food to eat, and we gave him some of our money so he could go get something to eat. I know that our children learn best from our actions, so I wanted to make sure he understood.
Isaac looked at me thoughtfully, then solemnly leaned over and kissed my cheek. And that was the best thank you of all.