Saturday, December 24, 2005
A CHRISTMAS TO REMEMBER
A CHRISTMAS TO REMEMBER
By David Langerfeld
Dec 24, 2005
First Impressions - A Christmas To Remember
This is a first-person account from a mother about her family as they
ate dinner on Christmas Day in a small restaurant many miles from their
home. Nancy, the mother, relates:
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 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 he 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 go 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."
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