5 cents

This afternoon John and I were walking toward the church where we were going to have supper with the students we had been with all day. A little boy ran up to John and asked him for a lempira, which is worth about 5 cents. It is not at all unusual for little boys to come up to us and ask for a lempira, but this little boy didn't seem like he was used to asking strangers for money. We looked up, and on the other side of the street was the little boy's mother, a little sister and baby brother. "I have to take the baby to the hospital," she said, "the bus costs 2 lempiras, and I only have 1. Could you help me?" It isn't all that far to the hospital, but would certainly have seemed like it to me if I had had two little kids and a sick baby to take with me.
Like I said, a lot of little boys ask us for a lempira. I should say demand a lempira. A lot of people tell us they have a mother, sister, brother, etc. in the hospital. We have one little lady, whose breath often has a mysteriously alcoholic scent to it, who has been on her way to or from the hospital every time we have met her for the last year and a half. In fact, we had just talked with her this morning. (In her case, we did give her a cup of coffee and a cookie). It is easy to get sort of hard and indifferent. It is easy to think of all kinds of reasons why it is not a good idea to give people money. Even 5 cents. I didn't even have a pocket to have a lempira hidden away, but John opened his wallet and gave the boy 10 lempiras. The mother showered thanks on us for half a block as we parted ways. Real need? Pretend need? No way to know for sure without following her to the hospital. I do know that it is worth a lot more than 5 cents to keep a compassionate heart.