FOODFORTHOUGHT

THE BABY AND THE OLD MAN
Author Unknown
February 5, 2011

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 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 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?" 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
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 an 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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