Erik

Baby Erik and the Old Man

We were the only family with children 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 highchair 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 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, hi there." 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 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
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'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'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 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 given me a wonderful 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."