No matter what your
belief...the moral is something to live by.
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 thinking, '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, how we got where we are, 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......
From an email shared by Anaggh Desai
