Sitting at The Table with Beggars
In Cambodia, It didn’t matter what restaurant we chose, meal after meal, within second of sitting at the table, we were approached by little girls selling handmade bracelets. Their sweet little voices repeating the same sales pitch, perfectly rehearsed, begging to make a dollar.
“Two for one dollar, two for one dollar.”
Trying to conceal the knot in my stomach, I would smile and reply with a polite “No, thank you.” It pained me every time.
But “No thank you” never phased these girls. I am sure they heard it a hundred times a day before they heard it from me. With tenacious perseverance they continued, their tone flirting with desperation.
“Ok, ok, five for one dollar … just only one dollar …” Some would position the bracelets closer to my face and run their hands through the selection so I could see more clearly. “Pleeeease, just only one dollar … I go to school.”
Face to face with the injustice of poverty again, the tension of helplessness cut to my core. Five months into the Race, my heart cried out, Lord, this never gets easier! How can I say No to these girls?
But when dozens of kids are selling the same product it’s hard to know if I am helping or hurting their reality. And I can only buy so many bracelets.
Jesus, show me your Kingdom in this.
—
A few days later, my teammate Julia and I were grabbing a quick lunch at our favourite local restaurant in Siem Reap. On the Race we have learned to frequent the cheap local places that satisfy both our stomachs and our food budget of $5 a day. This place had delicious vegetable curry for just $2.
Sure enough, within a few short minutes of sitting down, a young girl approached our table with her display of colourful bracelets.
“Two for one dollar, two for one dollar.” It was like hearing a familiar song.
Jesus, let your Kingdom come, I can’t do nothing this time.
I looked up at Julia and smiled. “Hey, I know we were supposed to be quick but do you mind if we invite her to eat with us?” She smiled and nodded in agreement.
I turned back to the girl, grateful to have a different response this time. “Your bracelets are beautiful” I said, “but I already have one” holding out my wrist to show her the bracelet I bought a few days earlier.
I reached back for a menu and pulled out the red plastic chair next to me,”I don’t want to buy a bracelet but would you like to eat lunch with us?”
She smiled, whispered something in Khmer and ran away. Moments later she returned with a friend, clearly a few years younger.
They both set their bracelets down on the table and took a seat across from each other. Shy and reserved yet unable to mask their childlikeness, they flipped through the menu like a picture book; their feet dangling above the ground.
“Choose anything you want.” I invited.
The younger girl followed the older girl’s lead and they both ordered a plate of chicken fried rice.
We exchanged smiles and carried simple conversation in broken English.
“My name is Stephanie” I introduced myself and pointing to Julia I said “this is my friend Julia. What is your name?”
“I am Tida” the older girl replied. “She is Savanalee.”
I was shocked to learn that the girls were fourteen and eleven, I guessed about ten and seven. We learned that they went to school in the mornings and sold bracelets in the afternoons. They liked to study English. Tida wanted to become a doctor and Savanalee, a teacher.
When their food came, they giggled more than they ate.
All of a sudden, two mango shakes appeared on the table before the girls. The waitress pointed to a woman at the table behind us, “from the lady,” she said.
The woman smiled and expressed how she was so touched by our interaction with the girls that she wanted to be part of it. She thanked us for inspiring her.
Both girls barely put a dent in their plate of food and packaged the leftovers to share with their family.
Wow, I thought, this is the Kingdom. I could have spent another dollar on another bracelet or politely dismissed another innocent girl pretending it didn’t wreck my heart to see her walk away but instead God answered a simple prayer and revealed the priceless abundance of His Kingdom.
—
I am fully aware that one plate of fried rice didn’t change the reality that Tida and Savanalee would return to selling bracelets for “just only one dollar,” but I am also aware that money alone is not enough to change their reality. Poverty is complex and multifaceted.
But from what I’ve witnessed the past nine months, knowing that they are Daughters worthy to sit at The Father’s Table is enough to change the course of their lives.
The more I interact with “the poor”, the more I encounter my own state of poverty and the more I continue to be transformed by the gospel. Stay tuned for more stories about this idea of “Sitting at The Table” from my last month in the Philippines!
