The guy rolls up behind me in his wheel chair as I’m standing with my kindle underneath the glowing screens showing the train schedule. Fifteen minutes until my train departs.
“Entschuldigung” People usually see my resting scary face, and leave me alone. But this voice was insistent. “Entschuldigung”
I turn around to find a young man in a wheel chair, and he’s looking at me. Making eye contact starts a flow of German words that I don’t understand. I’m tempted to just shake my head to put a stop to whatever it is that he’s saying.
But I’m wondering if maybe I can actually be helpful. I have 15 minutes anyway.
“Do you speak English?” You know, I ought to start asking this question in German, but I know my American tongue will do irreparable damage on the simple question.
The young man switches to English. He knows enough to ask me for money for medication. At least, that’s his story. We talk for a while. His name is Mark. But in the back of my mind, I know this train station is known for its prostitution and drugs so I’m doubting his story even more. And yet, he’s asking for help.
Here’s the moment I hate. The point of decision.
How do you respond to a beggar? Do you give them money because it’ll get them away from you faster? Do you say no? Do you take them to the closest restaurant for dinner? Or do you take them to the Pharmacy for their medication?
I’ve encountered so many beggars in my life, even in the small towns I’ve lived in. I wish I knew what to do. Sometimes I don’t have time to stop. Sometimes I don’t want to stop. Sometimes I pretend I don’t hear them, don’t see them. Sometimes I pretend I don’t understand the language they’re speaking.
And I walk away feeling worse.
Is there a way to get out of this situation with dignity while offering them dignity too? I want to walk away from that human being asking for money, not feeling worse, but thankful for a moment of caring human interaction. After all, we share humanness.
Life is full of tiny decisions that lead to big decisions that set the tone of our lives. What happened in Mark’s life that he ended up in a train station in a wheel chair begging for money? What little choices built up to this very moment where our lives crossed?
Beggars make me uncomfortable. They are people, who have made choices…either they are there by choice or they have been forced in some way.
How can I be compassionate and leave a legacy with a person I may only see once? The reality is I’ll forget Mark, and he’ll forget me. But I’ll meet other Marks.
So what do you do when a beggar approaches you?
