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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
highchair tray. His eyes were 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 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?" Erik continued to laugh and
answer, "Hi, hi there." 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 consummated 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 labour,
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 a 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! " |
