We were the only family with a baby in the restaurant. I sat Erik
in a high chair and noticed everyone was quietly eating and talking.
Suddenly, Erik squealed with glee 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 a 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. 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. Everyone in the restaurant noticed and looked at us and then at the man. He 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 Erik, who was running through his repertoire for the admiring old man, who in turn, reciprocated with his cute comments.
We finally got through the meal and prepared to leave. My husband went ahead to pay the check. 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 side-step and avoid him. 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 old smelly man and a very young baby consummated their love relationship. 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, gently, so gently cradled my baby 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 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, "I will," from a throat that contained a stone. He pried Erik 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 made my day. Your child is a wonderful gift." I said nothing more than a muttered thanks.
Crying and holding Erik tightly in my arms I started praying,"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 judgement, a child who saw a soul. In contrast, I was a mother who saw a suit of clothes. I was a Christian who was blind, holding a child who was not.
