by Laura Crum
Surely
you all have seen these heart-wrenching pleas on facebook. A thin, miserable
horse (always a photo) that will go to kill unless money or a home is
immediately forthcoming. Usually the story that goes with the photo will bring
tears to my eyes. I love horses. I would like to save them all. And I think you
can easily see a small problem with that concept.
Because I’m now on facebook (and
you’re welcome to friend me there) and some of my friends are involved in horse
rescue, I see quite a few pleas to help rescue a given horse. Either with
money, or time spent helping the rescue organization, or actually adopting a
horse. I think most of what I personally see is quite legitimate (though I
realize there are plenty of facebook scams)--people doing their very best to
help horses. I admire what they are doing—but I don’t donate, let alone take on
a time commitment or another horse.
And
then there are people who need help. Just counting situations that I personally
know of and know to be truly deserving people faced with a wholly unexpected
medical crisis that is costing them more money than they could ever possibly
come up with….well, I know of at least a half dozen of these situations to
which I have given a donation. Let alone all the ones I hear about and believe
to be real needs and good people. The thing is, I really can’t give any more
money even to these legitimate and deserving causes. Even though I want to.
Why?
Because we have lately had our own medical problems in our family and the
medical bills are rolling in here, too. I don’t dare give away money I might
need to pay bills I haven’t even seen yet. Let alone what the future holds.
I
am a responsible person and I pay my bills. The last thing I want to do is put
myself in the position that so many horse rescues seem to end up in—having
taken on too many projects, spent more money than they really had, and are now
unable to take decent care of the horses they are responsible for. And believe
me, this weighs on my mind.
I
have five horses here—the youngest of them are in their late teens. Having had
a forever horse who lived to be thirty-five, I know how long a well-cared for
horse can live…and I know for a fact that the cost of keeping these older
horses in good shape goes up every year they live past thirty (usually). There
is supplemental feed and daily drugs to combat arthritic issues…etc. And there
is time spent blanketing and unblanketing and stalling and turning out (if that
is your way of horse keeping).
One
of the saddest things that can happen is a well-intentioned horse owner
becoming so financially strapped that he/she CAN’T take decent care of an older
horse that has been a beloved horse for many years. To see these horses thin
and ill-kept, or even worse, at the sale and bought by the killers, is
heartbreaking. I pray this will never happen to me. And so I husband what
resources I have carefully, so that I can take good care of the
responsibilities that are mine to deal with. I do not want to have to beg for
help—ever. Though I also understand that I am not in charge of what happens to
me and mine. But I can try, to the best of my abilities, to prevent a financial
crisis from happening here.
The
thing is, I feel guilty. When I read a heartfelt plea from someone I truly
believe to be a good person in desperate need of help for a child or spouse, or
trying to save a horse or dog that would otherwise die forlorn, I really WANT
to help. I could spend all day sending money to such worthy causes, and it
would make me happy. That is, I could do this if I lived in an apartment sans
pets or family and had at least as much income as I have now.
In
reality, our income is enough to support our family and critters and the land
we live on—it will stretch to cover us for the occasional unforeseen
veterinary, medical or other emergency. But it will not suffice for endless
charitable donations, or for that matter, luxuries like shiny new cars or fancy
clothes or vacations in Europe. We just aren’t that wealthy.
And
still, I feel guilty. Because I could send a hundred here and a hundred
there—to folks who really need it. And I have done that and I keep on doing
that—and I feel guilty if I do and guilty if I don’t. I imagine a lot of you
feel the same.
Anyway,
having read a heart-rending plea on facebook for time spent to comfort a very
sick woman recently, I am reeling with the conundrum of this guilt. My first
responsibility is to take care of that which is mine, lest I end up like those
horse rescues full of starving horses and become a burden on others. And not
only do I not have enough money to make endless charitable donations, I do not
have time to accomplish all that I am responsible for here and drive two hours
each way to visit/spend time with this poor woman (who really needs the
support). But I long sometimes for a simple life that would allow me the
freedom to spend time and money helping others who need help. At the same time
I absolutely love my little horse property and my life here with my critters
and family. It is my lifelong dream come true. And it is this very
dream-come-true that renders me too tied down-- financially, emotionally and
time-wise-- to be able to do much for others. This is the reality. It puzzles
me in a constant, sad way.
I
have always been able to step up for the situations that came my way—the stray
dog running down the street, the good friend that needed a helping hand, a few
dollars to a homeless person I meet on the street. I call it the “good
Samaritan principle.” The good Samaritan stumbled upon a man who had been
robbed lying in a ditch. It’s important to note that the Samaritan wasn’t
looking for people to help, or running a shelter. He was going about his
business and stumbled upon someone who needed help—and he helped that man. And
this is how I have tried to live my life.
But,
because of the internet, I now stumble on far more “men lying in a ditch” than
I have the resources to help. The good Samaritan didn’t bankrupt himself and
his family helping the stranger. But if he had tried to help two dozen
strangers, the Samaritan might have found himself destitute. In my mind, that
would have been a wrong thing to do.
The
hard part is that you don’t avoid becoming that rescue who needs rescuing by
conserving your resources once you start to tank. By then, it’s too late. You
stay solvent (financially and emotionally) by making careful, conservative
choices while you still have plenty of resources. Which means you say no to
those who need help when you realistically could give them some money or time.
You just know that if you do (and keep on doing this) you inevitably WILL tank
in the end. Where exactly do you draw the line?
There
is no clear answer to this question that I can find. I want to be responsible
for all that I have taken on; I also want to help those in need. The internet
shows me so many who need help (legitimately). The only thing I have found so
far is that I feel guilty—a lot. Even if I do donate…and also when I don’t.
Is
there an answer? Those of you who feel as I do, please tell me how you resolve
this puzzle.
7 comments:
Early on in my adult life, I "Chose One". I researched and picked a charity to donate to, and that was it. Sometimes it changes, but you just can't help everybody.
You can't.
I still will occasionally "good Samaritan" it with what little extra I can afford, but I don't feel guilty about not helping all.
Ah, that's bull. I still feel guilty. Oh well.
Bill
I so sympathize with this feeling. I see so so so many of these situations... some of them involving horses I know in real life. It's hard for me to say no, to accept that I can't help them all, but I know that if I give money to every one I see (even just $5), I'll put my own horses and dogs in a spot where I may not have money for their needs.
I keep my PayPal for these reasons. I rarely get money through PayPal, and I only transfer to my bank account when I have $100+. When I see a cause I really really want to donate to (as I did just yesterday, actually), I log in to PayPal. If I have some 'surprise' money left in the account, I make a small donation. If I don't, I wince and walk away, choosing to just share the cause and hope that the awareness helps.
Bill--Yeah, that's me, too. I try to donate some money every year to what I believe to be a good cause-whether an individual in need or a charity. But I still feel guilty when I turn away from someone who needs help--even if I'm only turning away from the computer.
Dom--That's exactly how I feel. The PayPal idea is a good one.
I agree with you Laura and also wanted to add that time is a big consideration too. I am offered a free horse at least once a week. I have room in pasture and enough funds to cover the extra expense, but I don't have time. If I took the horses offered to me I'd just end up with a pasture full of well fed horses that aren't broke to ride. That's not fair to my personal horses or any potential rescues I take on. As it is, I was laid off in 2008 but I had two well trained horses that I was able to quickly place in excellent riding homes. No one is lining up to take unbroke or green horses in a good economy and especially not in an unstable economy when winter is approaching. I don't foresee being laid off again, but I don't want to take on the extra risk in case bad luck strikes twice.
Good post, Laura, and timely since the holidays elicit even more 'demands' for help and money.
But stop feeling guilty, even though that's impossible to ask someone because the charity's job is to get a response from you -- sympathy and guilt. That's how they stay in business or stay afloat and most do a great job of soliciting money/resources. Because let's face it, most of us are bleeding hearts.
Anon--Time is a huge consideration for me, too. I barely have enough time to take care of all my current chores and critters--I simply cannot take on any more time obligations and still be able to do justice to everyone's needs.
Alison--I hear you--but it isn't the charities that really get me. It's the individuals I know, whether in real life or through the internet, who have suffered a true catastrophe--and they really need support. I know if I were in their shoes I'd desperately need help. And thus the guilt when I feel I can't offer to help them.
I have lately felt a lot of guilt about all animals on need, and I only have one little Yorkie and myself and with the economy as it has been found my own self in dire circumstances. I would love to help not only the horses, but other animals and know I cannot at this time. Still there must be some other way besides donating money which only goes so far. Laura, your books are great! Thank you for contributing so much joy with your writing.
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