Charity Begins at Home

During the Christmas mayhem, my mother-in-law and I were talking about the current economic mess and she related a bit of history from her mother-in-law.  She recalled being told that when the unemployed who rode the rails came through the small town Gramma lived in, they would mark the homes of those who would feed them (the symbols that 'tramps and hobos' developed for just this purpose) so that later travelers would know where to go to ask for a meal.  And I asked, did Gramma feed them?  Of course, was the reply, as I knew it would be.

This has had me thinking since then.  We live in the suburb of a major city.  The news every day is filled with shootings and assaults and robberies and murders.  The husband and I shake our heads and mutter about how we felt safer living in India.  For the first time ever, we have a security system and we use it, whether it's during the day (if I'm home alone) or at night while we sleep.  I am not a big fan of handguns (although I am a surprisingly good shot), but living here, if the husband insisted on getting a gun, I might just agree.

At the same time, I consider myself to be a fairly compassionate person.  I realize just how blessed we are, how fortunate to be safe and secure, happy and healthy.  I believe in giving wherever and whenever it is truly needed and appropriate, and in the whole idea of giving back.  And I have alos spent a great deal of time, effort and whatever talents I have to try to make life better for those who are less fortunate. 

But if someone knocked on my door, holding a sign that said 'Will Work for Food,' I don't know if I would open the door to him.  I would honestly be afraid that the sign was just a ruse to get someone to open their door, and after that...who knows?  And what does it say about our culture that that is the case?  I can't believe that I am the only one who feels this way.  In my heart of hearts, I want to be better than that.  But I'm not...