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A
Baby's Hug
We were the only family with children in the
restaurant. I sat Erik in a high chair
and noticed every
one was quietly sitting and talking
Suddenly, Erik squealed with glee and said,
'Hi.' He pounded his fat baby hands on the
high chair 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 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?'
Erik continued to laugh and
answer, 'Hi.' 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 skid-row 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.
Suddenly a very old smelly man and a very
young baby consummated their love and
kinship. 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 a stone.
He pried
Erik from his chest, lovingly and 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.'
Sometimes, it takes a child to remind us of
what is really important. Remember who we
are, where we came from and, most
importantly, how we feel about others.
The clothes on our
back or the car that we drive or the house
that we live in does not define us at all;
it is how you treat your fellow man that
identifies who you are.

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