Woman to Woman
Vol. 8, No. 2
“And ye are complete in him.” Colossians 2:10
Mar./Apr. 2005
A Page from My Experience
Cardboard Signs
By Sue Weir
A lady and her young
child sat on the hard dirty
ground at the busy inter-
section. The lady’s clothes
were tattered, grubby, and
a bit too small for her. The child was bundled in blankets
from which a sweet little face peered out. The lady held a
piece of flimsy cardboard in her hands, and on it was scrib-
bled: “Have family, need money.”
The unshaven elderly man looked as if he hadn’t taken a
bath or combed his hair in weeks. His pants and shirt were
filthy. As I walked past him I could not escape his powerful
odor. He smelled, probably of booze, which made sense after
reading his cardboard sign, “Why lie, I need a beer.”
Her weathered old face was expressionless. I wondered
where she was going as she hobbled down the street pushing
the grocery cart filled with odds and ends, probably all she
owned in the world. It was wintertime, the air was bitterly
cold, and she was inadequately dressed. I shivered as I
watched the wind whip around her. She had no sign, but if
she had I imagine it would have said, “Homeless. Please
help. And God Bless.”
A middle-aged man, clean cut and dressed rather styl-
ishly, stood at the street corner. I thought, ‘He must be wait-
ing to cross the street.” But wait…is that a cardboard sign he
is holding? Yes! It says, “Down on my luck, can you spare a
buck?” A poet of sorts!
In the dark corner of a doorway entrance to an old aban-
doned building a sickeningly thin woman sits, trying to get
out of the rain. Her hair is matted, her face is smudged with
dirt, and her shoes are full of holes. Her damp cardboard sign
has long been faded; I can’t make out the words. A quick
glance into her eyes says more than any sign could say.
He’s a young, strong, healthy looking lad, yet here he is,
standing on the street, begging. In his hands a cardboard sign
reads, ‘”Will work for food.”
These signs are everywhere; they jump out and stare me
in the face as I pass them by, pricking my conscience, urging
me to help, to care. But in this day and age, can people be
trusted? Whose sign do I believe? Which one of these people
is truly “down on his luck”? Which one of these beggars
could or would really work for food? Which ones of these
people are here by choice? Which ones by “fate”?
Would some of these sign holders, in all honesty, have to
admit that they make a better living begging than they could
working an ordinary job? Is that why they are here? They
aren’t suffering, I tell myself. They simply put on the “poor
and needy” uniform and wear it to their “job” on the streets.
Many of these sign holders don’t really want food. They
want booze, or they want drugs. If I give, I wonder, will I re-
ally feed a hungry person, or will I be supporting the next al-
coholic binge or maybe finance someone’s last overdose?
Whom do I trust? Whom do I help? How do I know?
(Continued on Page 4)
Inside This Issue:
Editorial
Sounding the Alarm ··············· Page2
Nature Trails
IfStreamsCouldTalk ·············· Page4
The Love of Jesus ·················· Page5
If You’ve Got it, Hide it! ··············· Page6
How’s Your Heart Condition? ··········· Page7
Bits and Pieces to Make the Heart Sing ·······Page9
A Wise Woman Builds Her House ·········Page10
Ten Traits of an Organized Home ·········Page10
Health is Wealth
Fearfully and Wonderfully Made (Part 16) · · · Page 11
Coach’s Corner
EliminateEnergyZappers············ Page12
