[CS-FSLUG] ~ A Baby's Hug ~

[Fred A. Miller]

~ 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 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.  How did God feel when he put his baby in our arms
    2000 years ago. 

    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.

    'It is better to be liked for the true you, than to be loved for who
    people think you are......'(Amen! )

-- 
There are none so blind as those who will not open their eyes (liberals) 
because dogma is more important than the truth!

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