Coffee Day, Take Two

So today the planets aligned and everything worked out for me to be able to have a coffee day! Finally! I first dropped my mother-in-law off at the bus terminal, stayed with her until her bus arrived, and then headed off to the mall.

At first I was considering getting a smoothie, but I decided that I needed the heart pounding, capillary dialating, ecuadorian grown coffee in my veins if I was going to get through the week. So I headed off to my preferred frappuccino place, Sweet & Coffee, and said, ¨One mocha frappuccino, please!¨, my mouth watering with anticipation (except I said it in Spanish). The guys behind the counter made that face. That face people make when they are about to shatter your dream to pieces and are not sure how to phrase it so as not to start a shouting match with the caffiene-starved mother of a toddler who has exactly one hour to herself a week. You know that face? Then he found the right words. ¨We only have hot drinks right now.¨ And just like that, my dream was gone.

Then I remembered that there is a Juan Valdez on the second floor of the mall, and I was off! I thought it might be too expensive, but I found a comparable frappuccino-esque drink at about the same price, so I went for it. One sip and I knew I had made the right choice. Although Jual Valdez is Colombian coffee. Not Ecuadorian. But I´m over it.

I read a few chapters of two books I took along, stopped in a few stores to get some information, bought some soy bean oil and headed home. I ended up having to walk a long way home until a bus FINALLY came by, and by then I needed another coffee. Obviously we are still working out the logistics of coffee day.

On a more serious note, though, as I was on the Trole (trolley) from the bus terminal to the mall, something happened that made me sad. A blind woman got on the trole to beg for money, which is pretty common in Ecuador, so I got some money out of my purse, ready to hand to her as she walked by. She was at the front of the bus, and the troles are really long, so I was just kind of waiting for her to get there and thinking about something or another. As she passed I put the money in her hand and she thanked me, and I was about to go back to my thoughts when I saw her getting off the trole. She was getting off with her son, a boy of maybe 5 or 6 years, who could see. He was apparently escorting her as she begged for money.

As a mother, seeing this hurt me deeply for a few reasons. First, I thought that I really wished I had given her more money. It might sound weird, but seeing that she was a mom, and imagining how, in this culture, she could provide for her son and herself with no job, I wished I could have done more. Then I thought that I wished I had gotten off the trole to talk to her. The I wondered how long she had been blind. Had she always been blind? Had she ever seen her son´s face? Had she ever looked at him as she held him in her arms and seen him looking up her, needing her and loving her as only our babies can do? I started getting teary-eyed on the bus. Then I pulled it together. A gringa calls enough attention to herself without blubbering like a baby on the bus for no apparent reason.

The last thing I thought about as I reflected was how humiliating it must be to have to beg strangers for money in front of your children. In Ecuador, and in most countries, people with conditions like hers have no opportunities for work besides begging. They are looked down upon by others, as though their physical condition had something to do with their worth as a person. And people feel good about themselves because they toss a few cents in the hands of the needy, while they never stop and consider that the ¨needy¨ are people. They are someone´s daughter or son, sister or brother, mother or father. And tomorrow any one of us could become ¨one of them¨ because of some small twist of fate.

And I guess I lied, because that wasn´t the very last thing I thought. The very last thing I thought was this: I wish I would have talked to her about Jesus. I wish that would have been my first thought. And I´m a missionary for crying out loud! I hope she´s around next coffee day, or any day. And I hope I´m not too busy thinking about one thing or another to see supernatural opportunities in everday experiences.

I don´t want to end on a low note, though, so I will end with this: I was standing in the trole on the way home, and I was thinking that it´s nice sometimes to be just another face in the crowd, another commuter going about his or her day, another anonymous blah, blah, blah...you get it. Anyway, all of the sudden I had this memory of a friend of mine who lived in Quito for a few months falling flat on her butt in the trole, and I struggled not to burst out laughing (which would be just as bad as bursting our in tears). Probably not funny to you. I guess you had to be there. Goodnight!