The Dirty Spot

Today is Blog Action Day, and the topic is Poverty.  I’m always late to the party, because I’m completely clueless most of the time – but I showed up, right?  Right?  If you’d like to read some amazing posts on poverty, head on over to the site and follow the links!

——————–

I’m not one to obsess about the cleanliness of my car.  With two kids and two big dogs, it’s pretty much a lost cause.

Oh, every now and then I’ll get a hair up my butt and go wash, vacuum and Armor All the interior.  But there’s a streak of dirt right inside the passenger door that I don’t clean.  If, on the off chance I get my car professionally washed, I point to the dirty spot and ask them to leave it alone.  I’m the crazy dirt lady, I know – but I hold that title with pride.

One day last winter, I had just dropped Alison off at my mom’s and was making my way home through a downpour.  As I came over a set of rail road tracks, I was shocked to see a woman carrying a small child along the side of the road. 

We live in a rural area and there aren’t any sidewalks, instead there are ditches.  I screeched to a halt and asked the woman if she’d like a ride.  She buckled her 3-year-old daughter into Alison’s car seat and jumped into the front, trying to get out of the rain as quickly as possible. 

I asked if her car had broken down, and she replied that she didn’t have a car.  Every day, she walked her daughter three miles to pre-school, walked home, then walked back and carried her another three miles home.  The little girl tried her best to walk, but six miles is a very long way for a three-year-old, especially in the rain. 

I drilled her with exasperated questions: Where was the school bus?  Why isn’t there a transit bus in our area?  Why wasn’t the school doing something about this?  All she could say was that she wanted her daughter to get an education, and to have a head start.  Whatever it took, she was willing to do it to see that her little girl had every opportunity to succeed in life.

I followed the woman’s directions and pulled up in front of their modest home. 

“I’m so sorry, I got mud on your car,” she said as she climbed out of the car.  “If you wait here a minute, I’ll go get something to clean it off.”  Of course I declined, telling her it would only take me a moment to clean it at home.

“You two just get warm and dry, and maybe I’ll see you again,” I told her.  I waved as I drove away, and managed to keep the tears from falling down my face until she was out of sight. 

I may complain that it takes $65 to fill up my car these days – but I have a car.  I may complain that I wash too many clothes, dishes, and floors – but that means we have clothes to keep us warm, food to eat, and a home to run around in.  I may get frustrated that my husband works long hours, but he has a job – a good one, and a business that is thriving despite a sagging economy.

That little streak of dirt represents the sacrifices a poor mother makes for her child to have a better life, to have a future better than her own.  So I keep that dirty spot, and it reminds me every day not only of how fortunate we are, but also that we need to have compassion for those who are not.