Yogurt and Tissue

Being from a small Albertan town, our girls had little exposure to poverty other than when we took our weekly trips to Downtown Edmonton to work with refugees.  Here poverty is all around us.  Ava has quickly picked up the previously unfamiliar vocabulary of “poverty, poor, homeless, orphan”.  There are many beggars on the street, some who have become increasingly familiar to us.  There is my little friend who sits and plays outside the grocery store a block from our apartment, a girl about 7 or 8 with the sweetest eyes and the most precocious grin.  As part of my routine, I always buy her a strawberry yogurt drink and a snack along with the rest of my groceries.  It has become so much of a routine that when she sees me coming she smiles and sits by the exit door, sometimes with her mom and baby brother, patiently waiting for her treat.  A few days ago when I exited the store she was no where to be seen.  A couple of men were loitering nearby and, seeing my strawberry yogurt drink, asked if I was looking for the little girl!  They set the yogurt and bananas aside promising to pass them onto her when she returned.

Then there is the woman who sells little boxes of Kleenex under the tree outside our apartment building.  I am not sure why, but selling Kleenex is very popular here.  It is like a micro micro business.  In one trip to the market we may come across five or more people selling tiny boxes of Kleenex for change.  Needless to say, we are never short on tissue at our house!  One day we were out walking around the neighbourhood with Izzy and gave her a couple of pounds (approx. 25 cents) to give to the lady in front of our building.  Izzy shyly approached her and handed her the change and the lady responded by thanking her and giving her a little box of tissue from the pile set out on the mat beside her.  Izzy came running back to us with a huge smile on her face and whispered, “That is a very kind lady!  She gave me some Kleenex because she saw me and saw that I have lots of boogers in my nose and needed the Kleenex”.  To Izzy, this woman was more than a street beggar, she was a kind lady, a lady that blessed her in her time of need.  Izzy clutched that little box of tissue for the next hour, so tickled that they were scented and the perfect size for her little nose.  She didn’t use them for days and yet when anyone set foot in our apartment, she showed them off with pride in her eyes and a smile on her lips.  Now when we are out and about Izzy often asks for money, not to buy a treat or a drink, but to buy some more Kleenex from her new friend!

I pray that as we live here with poverty all around us, that it would be more than just new vocabulary to our girls, that God would cultivate within them the powerful gift of generosity.