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.This one is a keeper. ‘It is better to be liked for the true you, than
to be loved for who people think you are….
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.’ If this has blessed you, please bless others by sending it
on. 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.
Filed under: thoughts/piks/happenings of the day | Tagged: 'It is better to be liked for the true you than to be loved for who people think you are...., baby and homeless man, baby and homeless man and Jesus, The baby | Leave a Comment »



