We were
the only family with children in the restaurant.
I sat Erik in a high chair and noticed everyone
was quietly eating and talking. Suddenly, Erik squealed
with glee and said, "Hi there." He pounded his fat
baby hands on the high chair tray. His eyes we crinkled
in laughter and his mouth was bared in a toothless
grin, as he wriggled and giggled with merriment.
I looked around and saw the source of his merriment.
It was a man whose pants were baggy with a zipper
at half-mast and his toes poked out of would-be
shoes. His shirt was dirty and his hair was uncombed
and unwashed.
His whiskers were too short to be called a beard
and his nose was so varicose it looked like a road
map. We were too far from him to smell, but I was
sure he smelled. His hands waved and flapped on
loose wrists.
"Hi there, baby; Hi there, big boy. I see ya,
buster," the man said to Erik. My husband and I
exchanged looks,"What do we do?"
Everyone in the restaurant noticed and looked
at us and then at the man. The old geezer was creating
a nuisance with my beautiful baby. Our meal came
and the man began shouting from across the room,
"Do ya patty cake? Do you know peek-a- boo? Hey,
look, he knows peek-a-boo."
Nobody thought the old man was cute. He was obviously
drunk. My husband and I were embarrassed. We ate
in silence; all except for Erik, who was running
through his repertoire for the admiring skidrow
bum, who in turn, reciprocated with his cute comments.
We finally got through the meal and headed for
the door. My husband went to pay the check and told
me to meet him in the parking lot.
The old man sat poised between me and the door.
"Lord, just let me out of here before he speaks
to me or Erik," I prayed. As I drew closer to the
man, I turned my back trying to sidestep him and
avoid any air he might be breathing. As I did, Erik
leaned over my arm, reaching with both arms in a
baby's "pick-me-up" position. Before I could stop
him, Erik had propelled himself from my arms to
the man's.
Suddenly a very old smelly man and a very young
baby con- summated their love relationship. Erik
in an act of total trust, love, and submission laid
his tiny head upon the man's ragged shoulder. The
man's eyes closed, and I saw tears hover beneath
his lashes. His aged hands full of grime, pain,
and hard labor, cradled my baby's bottom and stroked
his back. No two beings have ever loved so deeply
for so short a time. I stood awestruck.
The old man rocked and cradled Erik in his arms
and his eyes opened and set squarely on mine. He
said in a firm commanding voice, "You take care
of this baby. " Somehow I managed, "I will," from
a throat that contained stone. He pried Erik from
his chest unwillingly, longingly, as though he were
in pain.
I received my baby, and the man said, "God bless
you, ma'am, you've given me my Christmas gift."
I said nothing more than a muttered thanks. With
Erik in my arms, I ran for the car. My husband was
wondering why I was crying and holding Erik so tightly,
and why I was saying, "My God, my God, forgive me."
I had just witnessed Christ's love shown through
the innocence of a tiny child who saw no sin, who
made no judgment; a child who saw a soul, and a
mother who saw a suit of clothes.
I was a Christian who was blind, holding a child
who was not. I felt it was God asking, "Are you
willing to share your son for a moment?" when He
shared His for all eternity. The ragged old man,
unwittingly, had reminded me, "To enter the Kingdom
of God, we must become as little children." If this
has blessed you, please bless others by sending
it on.
