We were the only family with children in the restaurant. I sat Erik in a high chair and noticed everyone was quietly seated 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 whose 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 that 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 but not 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 smelly old man and a
baby expressed 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.
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, 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. The
child saw a soul, and his mother 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, "Unless you change and
become like little children, you will never
enter the kingdom of heaven." ( Matthew
18:3 )
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