Just two dollars

At first I thought she was asking to borrow my phone, but when I asked her again, she said, "Do you have two dollars?" She spoke in a low voice, almost a mumble. Her hair was dyed red and she was wearing a gray t-shirt and basketball shorts. She looked like someone I might run into at Target or Wal-Mart, just any other person picking up a few necessities in life.

I quickly, maybe too cheerfully, asked if she needed "some groceries or something", but she said No, just two dollars so she could get something at Carl's Junior as she glanced across the parking lot. My instinct was to offer to go with her so I could buy her something (how many people tell us this is the right thing to do?), but something felt off about walking with her all the way across the parking lot. And my gut was telling me something else. Even flipping through my wallet, I knew I had a good amount of cash with me, even the exact two dollars she asked for. My instinct handed her a five instead. She said thank you.

So I walk into Raley's to deposit my checks from the past couple weeks, mulling thoughts of generosity and giving and trusting God with your money and the thought that, sometimes, you do give without knowing where it goes. And I remember that I haven't been as generous lately.

But seeing her when I walked out of the store a few short minutes later replaced those thoughts of generosity with ones of suspicion. Why was she still there? Was $2 not enough for a meal? What if she didn't really want food? Why would she be collecting money? Drugs? Trafficking? Just need money for rent? The thought crosses my mind that we so often assume the worst of strangers, homeless, anyone who asks for money. And that maybe I am thinking the worst of her when she may just be a little short of income this month. I don't know. My gut five minutes ago thought giving her a five was a good idea.