A Baby's Hug

Today's Top Ten will be replaced by a very touching story. I usually despise forwards, but I got this story e-mailed to me sometime in the recent past, and it was very touching. Read on... and I apologize for the thousands of >'s. I'm too lazy and tired to take them out. Besides, it adds character.

A Baby's Hug
> >
> >
> >
> > We were the only family with children in the restaurant.
> > I sat Erik in a highchair 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's. 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."

Love you all. >T