A Baby's Hug

I am not certain who is the author of this story but it has touched me so deeply I felt the need to share it.

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 hi s
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.
The ragged old man, unwittingly, had reminded me, 'To enter the Kingdom of God, we must
become as little children.'
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.

“THE LAW OF LOVE CAN BEST BE UNDERSTOOD AND LEARNED THROUGH LITTLE
CHILDREN.” (MAHATMA GANDHI)