A Baby's Hug

We were the only family with children in the restaurant. I sat Erik in
a high chair and noticed everyone 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 theman'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.


We must always remember who we are, where we came from and, most
importantly, how we feel about others. The clothes on your back or the car that you
drive or the house that you live in does not define you at all; it is how you treat
your fellow man that identifies who you are.