We were
the only family with children in the restaurant.
I sat
Justin in a high chair and noticed everyone was eating and
talking.
Suddenly, Justin squealed with delight and said, "Hi there.
" He
pounded his fat baby hands on the high chair tray. His eyes were
wide with
excitement and his mouth was bared in a toothless grin. He
wriggled
and giggled with merriment. I looked around and saw the source
of his
merriment. It was man with a tattered rag of a coat; dirty,
greasy and
worn. His
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 tell, 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 Justin. My husband and I exchanged looks, "What do
we do?"
Justin
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
know
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 Justin, 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 Justin," 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, Justin leaned over my arm, reaching
with
both arms
in a baby's "pick-me-up" position. Before I could stop
him, Justin
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. Justin 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, gently, so gently, 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
Justin in his arms for a moment, and then his eyes opened and set
squarely on mine. He said in
a firm
commanding voice, "You take care of this baby."
Somehow I
managed, an "I will," from a throat that contained a
stone. He
pried
Justin 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 Justin
in my
arms, I ran for the car. My husband was wondering why I was
crying
and
holding Justin 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 shareing this story with
them.
