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More Than Ten-dollars And Spare Change

Today, I learned that giving should be done more freely, not with reservation.

We were shopping at Walmart for some mid-week essentials when a man decked out in rubber boots and saggy gym clothes slowly approached us and bashfully asked us for some change. I briefly looked at him and shook my head and said, “I’m sorry, we’re not carrying any cash”. The man timidly winced away from us and in a very soft-spoken manner apologized for bothering us. We continued shopping.

But I couldn’t concentrate. There was something in that man’s facial expression that told me he wasn't asking for change for frivolousness. My mother saw my face and said, “I have a dollar… it isn’t much, but it might help”. She had the same thought as I did. Maybe he needed change to be able to complete his shopping list.

I didn’t have to walk much to look for him as he was still nearby. As I approached him, I saw him picking at the change he held in his palm and glancing at his almost empty buggy. He gingerly touched a small bunch of bananas that he had set on his buggy as if unsure he should even get them. Along with the bananas was a small Kit-Kat bar. As I got closer, I realized that there were a couple of people digging in their pockets to give him some change.

“I know this isn’t much… But here”, I told him softly as I tried to discreetly give him the dollar. “Thank you”, he said in a soft Southern twang, his eyes dimly brimmed with tears. But as I walked away… I felt a tug inside telling me that giving him one dollar wasn’t enough. The image of him gingerly touching the bananas and his eyes with earnest sorrow stayed in my mind as I walked off to look for my mom.

For the next 15 minutes, as we continued to walk the food aisles, my mother chatted with me. But I wasn’t able to focus on her conversation. I felt sad. Very sad. This man had three bananas and a Kit-Kat bar in his buggy and didn't have enough money to buy them. He appeared to be a farm laborer of some sort, judging by his rubber boots and saggy work clothes. He also had a head full of white hair under a blue hat lettered ‘First Baptist Church” on the front. 

Clearly, he was a senior trying to make ends meet.

When I told him that we didn’t carry cash, I actually had a ten-dollar bill tucked in my wallet that I was saving for some purchases. At first, I was suspect of him. I also have a food budget that I am trying not to break and had plans to only spend ten dollars that evening. But I had a strong feeling that I needed to give him my ten-dollar bill and knew that I needed to obey that feeling or I was going to feel guilty for quite a while.

So, I went back. And prayed that I would find him as I skimmed each aisle and not long after found him at the snack aisle with his buggy filled with more options. Now accompanying his bananas and Kit-Kat bar were a few Great Value items. Not wanting to be obviously nosy, I took a quick glance and saw that among his items he had a loaf of white bread and two packets of Great Value crème cookies. “He’s buying what he thinks is the cheapest”, I thought to myself.

When the man saw me approach him again, he shrank back almost as if in fear and embarrassment. I got closer and looked at him straight in the eyes and said, “I don’t know your story. But I feel like I need to give you this.” And gave him the ten-dollar bill. The apprehension melted away from him as he accepted the bill and thanked me. Then gestured toward the cookies and said, “I have kids at home”. I nodded and said, “God bless you” and walked away, truthfully not wanting to become too emotionally involved.  

The ten dollars essentially are nothing. Whatever else he got as spare change is essentially nothing. I don’t know his story but as I reflect tonight’s experience, I realize that I should have stayed to listen to his story. I should have waited to find out what other ways I could have been of help to him and his family other than handing him money. But I didn’t want to get too emotionally involved.


I gave but with reservation. What if I had given freely without reservation? What if I had taken the time to listen to his story? What if I had taken the time to build rapport with him and gently suggest items that were healthier and inexpensive choices for him and the kids at home? As a community educator, I am able to confidently provide that type of information but I didn’t. If only I given more freely; Tonight might have ended differently and he would have received more than ten-dollars and spare change.

Until next time, 

La Morenita Nómada

The Little Brown Nomad

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