It's 8:30pm when I'm starting to write this, and I've just come home from Kroger. I drove through our small, twisty, windy, one-way street to get to my assigned parking spot. It's dusk now, but not all the light is yet gone from the sky. The twisty, windy, one-way street always takes me past the swimming pool in our condo complex. Right now, there are several different (and ethnically different) families, all with their young children, out by and in the pool. Well, it's mostly the kids that are in the water. And mostly, if not all, immigrant families.
We may complain about Houston sometimes—the traffic, the heat, the sprawl, the parking—but hearing those kids splash around with their parents standing guard...how glad do you think those parents are? In a time and day when more people than ever pay to be smuggled into the United States, because conditions are so bad at home, how lucky must those parents feel? That when others are risking their very lives to make it here, their kids are splashing in a pool in the cooling heat of a summer night—in America. Sure, they may not be rich, and they may have other problems, but knowing how much parents—and especially Asian parents—invest themselves in their children's welfare and future, I can only imagine that they are filled with a great sense of relief and gratefulness. If they stopped to think about it, I mean. Which begs the question...how often do I stop and think about how incredibly lucky I am, and how grateful I should be to God who put me here??
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Another thought. I've been at my internship in downtown Houston for two weeks now. Every day, the dress code is "as if you're going to court." For women, that means a skirt suit, button-down shirt, flats/heels (heels only when I actually am going to court), nice hair, and a couple of optional accessories.
Some days, I ride the elevator in my parking garage or work building with construction workers. Other days, I walk past construction workers and homeless people on my way to and back from court. Every time this happens, I am suddenly aware of what I must look like to these people. Rich.........rich, and rich. In the past, I would try to play it down in my own mind (and sometimes even to others), as if I weren't all that rich, that I had a lot in common with poor people. But I think that is doing a disservice not only to them, but also to myself. I have struggled with this specific issue off and on for the past several years.....that is, what should my mindset be towards the poor, when I am rich? I refuse to accept the theory that we can all be chummy friends on the same level, because factually it's not true. That dichotomy will always be in the background, and with the way our society is set up, the rich person will almost always have the upper hand (obviously or subtly).
That being said, I think that I have also decided that being rich is not wrong, and that neither I nor anyone else should "explain away" our wealth. Again, that would be a disservice. Yet, when I am dressed in business professional and standing in a cramped elevator with people in hard hats and muddy clothing, there is tension. Not bad, necessarily, but some kind of tension.
Perhaps I feel the tension because I am young and still awkward in many situations. Perhaps I am the only one feeling it, and the construction workers don't feel that. And perhaps it is because I am young and awkward that I am still able to notice these things. I know some professionals now who wouldn't even throw a second glance at the poor—not because the professionals are uncomfortable in that situation, but because they think that's the way the world is and should continue to be. But I personally don't think I could or could even want to ever be like that.
Which leads me back to my original issue—what should I be like? How do I gracefully interact with the poor, all the while knowing that they know that I am rich? This is not a question of justice, but one of humanity. I know that being poor is not romantic—there are those who would gladly injure me so they could be benefitted. However, there are also those who make an honest living.
Hmm. Respect. I'm wondering if that's what it comes down to. And the more I think about it, the more convinced I am.... After all, you can give away tons of money. You can dedicate service time. But it's kind of like the love passage in 1 Corinthians—you can do all of these things, but if you don't do them with respect, then they're pretty much worthless. Something like that. Merp. I'm wondering if I can analogize like that to the Bible......herp derp. Okay, well, in any case, I think respect is probably one of the most powerful ways to show someone that they are worthy in your eyes. Love may be the ultimate catalyst, but too often what is expressed as "love" comes off as pity or selfishness. Take charities, for example. I think charities do a ton of helpful work that no one else does or wants to do, but they are also criticized for being full of people who do what they do simply out of pity, or for their own personal satisfaction. Therefore, how can one differentiate between love, pity, and selfishness if all three are so often intermingled and all call themselves "love"?
So...respect. Not pity, not selfishness, not something that can be confused for something else. But respect. And respect itself has its intricacies...especially when an acquaintance turns into a friend. Agh. There is still more to think about this. But for now, I am content with the conclusion.
(P.S. It's not that I haven't tried to respect everyone anyway, but rather whether I should be content simply with the act of respecting the poor, and doing nothing else "for" them. Hmm. That is, however, how I treat the rich, so you would think that this would be correct....)
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A final thought for the night: there was something someone at my church said this past Sunday about how to approach giving to the poor, and it was really great (but actually kind of contrary to my conclusion above), so I will post it when I find that guy and ask for the quote he read. (This was so vague hah.)
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