HELP! What To Do?

This is a long post, but please read it -- I need your advice on this one, so do leave a comment or drop an email (just remember the communication guidelines, please).

The hardest aspect of life in Changsha, China is not the persistent grime, or the language barrier, or spending a sick night in the bathroom.

The most difficult thing is the ubiquitous beggars. Or, knowing what is my role in helping these people, who are so in need.

Beggars are inescapable, especially on busy streets. They sit in the middle or the side of the filthy, filthy sidewalk, grimy moisture constantly being kicked onto their faces: The decrepit old man with a grimy beard, the hobbled old women with worn faces, disfigured and disabled people, the blind, the lame, and -- most painful -- ashamed mothers with their small children. 

I know that the United States has a huge homeless population, but I have never had to face this problem on a daily basis, growing up in a rural mid-sized town, being isolated on a college campus, and then living in suburbia. Poverty, to me, was out-of-sight and out-of-mind. 

I cannot escape it here. 

But I am constantly frustrated because a solution seems impossible. I've asked my China-seasoned teammates and believing Chinese friends what to do. They agree that there is no simple solution. My Chinese friend said that there's a few categories of beggars:

1) They're acting deceptively (toting some story like "searching for my run-away son -- please help").

2) It's their job (blind guy gets on the bus and sings through a backpack amplifier, while his old man partner collects donations).

3) Some pimp-like person is dumping them off and picking them up, taking unknown percentages of the day's donations (especially true of the disabled and elderly persons).

4) No pimp-guy, just a person in need.

Discerning between these four is difficult. I've been told not to give to 1 & 2, but 3 & 4 is ok. Most beggars are category 3, but I'm torn! How much of the given money is actually helping the person? How much is going to their malicious, greedy pimp? But if I don't help this person to meet their "quota", will they be punished tonight? If I keep giving to beggars, does this teach people that they can depend on a life of begging, rather than finding a sustainable living?

Some have suggested giving food or other goods, rather than money. This is problematic as well, because the beggars rely upon looking poor to generate more donations. Say I give a blanket to a beggar in the cold -- they may not appreciate it, because it makes them look less needy. The pimp guys want their beggars to look as pitiful as possible.

Every time I pass someone begging on the street, my heart aches I hold back tears of frustration and sadness. Where is the care for human life!? How can I pass by -- allowing His wonderful creation to suffer, sitting in filth, starving, undignified, unloved. One day, in the rain, I passed a ragged mother holding a baby Titus's age, while her toddler slept on a towel laid over the sidewalk. The crowds pressed all around. To her, no one seem to care that her babies had nothing to eat and nowhere to sleep - no one, I realized, including myself. I cried to the Father, "What can I do!? Please tell me what You want me to do!" His response: sit down and spend some time with the ones who I will show you.

On a windy and lightly-rainy Saturday morning, Drew, Titus and I were on our way to the grocery store. It was cold enough that we had turned back to our apartment to adorn winter hats, and I felt a bit of motherly-concern that Titus's face was well enough shielded from the wind. In these conditions, a tattered mama sat on the wet street, breastfeeding her baby girl, coffer beside. In obedience to what He told me to do, I sat down next to her, asking questions about her baby and telling her about Titus -- the conversation being as limited as my Chinese abilities. The mood was sad, and tense. She was extremely guarded. In literally ten seconds a small crowd was gathering to see the white foreigner sitting next to the beggar. I handed her 10 yuan and said goodbye. I really couldn't tell if she appreciated my company or not. Maybe she was stunned, or maybe she wished I would just drop money and go away. 

I've felt like crying in public before, but never allowed myself as most people are already staring at the tall white woman with the big nose. Today I didn't care. Drew, Titus and I walked on, and every passer-by noticed the distraught foreigner in tears.

At the grocery store, I forgot about my list and instead bought a few baby items -- a simple pink baby suit, baby socks, a towel, rice cereal, and two jars of baby food. Then we quickly stopped to buy two chicken sandwiches for the mama. All the time I was asking "Please, please Father let this woman feel loved! Tell her that You love her! Please provide for her needs and the needs of her baby girl! Save the baby from a life of poverty and suffering. Please Father!"

I was relieved to find her in the same spot, and I again sat down in the puddle next to her, discreetly presenting the package. This time she seemed more relaxed, and I said "We want to give you these things. Do you know J? He loves you. He wants us to give this to you. He loves you. We will lift you up." She said thank you several times. I put my arm around her, and briefly laid a loving hand on the baby. The crowd was forming again. I said goodbye and cried on the way home.

As we walked, I was impressed with this -- she knows the name of J, but if she is anything like the masses with whom we live each day in China, she knows nothing of His story... promises... love... No one has ever told her, including me! I feel like she doesn't have a chance. And so I felt angry. Angry at those who have heard, a million times, and have had a million chances to accept, to receive, to believe and still turn Him down. I know this isn't the right thing to feel or say, but its how I felt.

So what do you think? How should I be responding to the beggars all around me, everyday?

Thanks,

Rachel

In my journal:

G, You are near. You see me and my dilemma. You see each beggar -- each woman and her baby sitting on the busy, wet, dirty streets -- the heels of passers-by flipping slop onto the baby's face. Hungry, cold, tired and ashamed. Feeling sub-human. You see this. A hundred... a thousand people shuffle by and barely notice them. But Your eyes have never left them, not even for a moment...