A kind refusal

 　　The woman downstairs came up to borrow something again, but this time my mother didn't lend it to her as readily as usual; instead, she politely refused. After she came downstairs, I asked my mother, "It's just a few pieces of ginger, why won't you lend it?" My mother said softly, "It's not that I don't want to lend it, but I want her to know that you can't just coast through life like she does. There are some things she should prepare herself."

　　As far as I remember, this woman was always like this—one day she'd come up to borrow some soy sauce, the next day a few cloves of garlic, and the day after that, she might come up to borrow your mop, even tissues sometimes. Whenever she came up, my mother would always generously give her some. My mother once said, "We're like family here, why be so formal?"

　　But as time went on, my mother realized that she was doing it on purpose; she was just coasting through, her mind wasn't on her own home, but on the gambling table. Poor husband of hers, who worked outside, rarely had a hot meal when he came home at night.

　　Since she couldn't borrow ginger, she stopped coming to borrow things for a few days. My mother didn't seem to mind and still greeted her when they met. But the girl seemed to have a problem with my mother, always responding coldly. Seeing this, I told my mother, "From now on, don't pay attention to people like her." But my mother said, "I'm not not lending her money because I'm afraid she'll take advantage of me; the main thing is to make her understand that I'm doing this for her own good."

　　Perhaps out of politeness, after my mother greeted her several times, the girl finally started talking to my mother. That day, my mother said to her, "The most important thing for a woman is her family. If she can't even take care of her own family, then she's a complete failure as a person." My mother's words seemed to have some effect on her. After that, my mother often saw her going to the market to buy daily necessities and even asking my mother for cooking tips.

　　My mother told me, "Sometimes refusing someone is for their own good. If I hadn't refused her, she would still be the same as before, just getting by and never thinking about managing her household. Look at her now, she's completely changed." My mother's words were indeed true; there was a deeper meaning behind the refusal.

　　Later, she would occasionally come to borrow things, usually emergency items. A few days later, she would always find what she needed. Her relationship with my mother also improved. She once told me, "If it weren't for your mother, I wouldn't know my shortcomings. Maybe, over time, my marriage would have run into problems."

　　Now, she's become very capable, and her husband, who leaves early and comes home late, always finds a hot meal waiting for him. Of course, she still comes to my mother often, but no longer to borrow things; instead, she comes to learn cooking. It seems that refusing others is also an art, and it can even help others.