Rockingham Memories
Stories & Emails From You
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.

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