Tuesday, September 13, 2005
WITNESSING CHRIST'S LOVE
WITNESSING CHRIST'S LOVE
By Earlene Stephens
Sep 13, 2005
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 high-chair 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 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
varicosed 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 embarassed. 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 side-step 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 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."
Earlene Stephens
Executive Assistant
University of Texas, Houston Medical School
PRAYER
Lord, you are the life of the Father. Help us open ourselves more fully
to you, especially through our worthy reception of your Sacraments, and
our love and care for our sisters and brothers.
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