UNCONDITIONAL LOVE (Part I)
Allow me to share a story that I
read some time ago. It is a compelling
tale told by a young wife and mother, and it involves something completely extraordinary,
incomprehensible and priceless: the unconditional love of a young baby. It will challenge the quantity and quality of
our love!
We were the only family with children
in the restaurant. I sat Eric in a high
chair and noticed everyone was quietly eating and talking. Suddenly, Eric squealed with glee and shouted,
“HI!” He pounded his fat baby hands on
the highchair tray. His eyes were wide
open with excitement and his mouth displayed a huge toothless grin. He wriggled and giggled with merriment.
I looked around and was surprised to
see the source of Eric’s joy. It was an
old man whose pants were baggy…with his zipper at half-mast…and his toes poking
out of would-be shoes. His shirt was
filthy and his hair was unwashed and uncombed.
His whiskers were too short to be called a beard and his nose had so
many varicose veins that it looked like a road map. We were too far from him to catch a whiff…but
I was totally sure that he smelled very bad!
He was just sitting there, hands waving and flapping like Jell-O, completely
holding the attention of my beautiful baby!
“Hey there baby…hi there big
boy! I see ya’ buster,” the man called out
gently to Eric. My husband and I
exchanged looks and whispered, “What should be do?” Our adorable baby boy, Eric, continued to
laugh and answer this disheveled man, “Hi!
Hi! Hi!” We were completely flabbergasted. Everyone in the restaurant seemed to notice
and they glance over at us sympathetically…and then they looked with disgust at
‘that man.’ Their eyes seemed to say, ‘That
old geezer has some nerve, creating a public nuisance with such a handsome
baby!’ As our meal came, the man kept
calling to Eric across the room, “Do you know patty cake? Do you know peek-a-boo? Look at that smart boy…he knows peek-a-boo!”
Nobody thought any of this was
cute. He was obviously drunk and dirty. My husband and I felt embarrassed. We ate in silence, except for Eric, who was
now running through his repertoire of the things-he-could-do to gain more
admiration and attention from this skid-row bum, who in turn reciprocated with
his annoying comments. We hurried
through our meal so we could head for the door.
My husband went to pay the check and asked me to meet him in the parking
lot.
The old ragged man sat positioned
between me and the door. “Lord,” I
thought, “if you can just let me get out of here before he speaks to Eric or
me.” As I drew closer to the door…closer
to the man…I turned my back, trying to side-step him and by all means to avoid
any odor or air he might be exhaling. As
I did this, Eric suddenly leaped over my arm, reaching out with both arms in a
baby’s ‘pick-me-up’ position. Before I
could stop him, Eric had propelled himself from my arms, right into the man’s
arms.
Immediately, this very old smelly
man and my young beautiful baby consummated their growing love
relationship. In an act of total trust,
love and submission, Eric laid his tiny head upon the man’s shoulders. That old homeless man’s eyes closed, and I
saw tears rolling down his face. His
aged hands, that looked to be so full of grime and pain, gently (so gently)
cradled my baby’s bottom and stroked my baby’s back.
Watching this union, I felt sure
that no two human beings had every loved so deeply in such a short period of
time. I stood there…paralyzed and awestruck. The old man rocked and cradled Eric in his
arms for a moment, and then his eyes opened and set squarely on mine. He said in a firm, sober and commanding
voice, “You take care of this baby.”
Somehow I managed to squeeze “I will” from my constricted throat, which at
the moment seemed full of stones. He
pried Eric from his chest, unwillingly, longingly, as though he was in actual
pain.
I happily received my baby as the
man whispered, “God bless you, Ma’am, you’ve given me my Christmas gift.” I said nothing more and raced toward the car,
holding Eric close to me. My husband
wondered why I was holding on to Eric so tightly, crying and mumbling, “My God,
my God, forgive me.” For I had just
witnessed Christ’s love, shown through the innocence of a tiny child who saw no
sin and made no judgments…a child who saw a living and loving soul…and a mother
who had only seen raggedy and dirty clothes.
I was a Christian who was blind, holding a baby who was not blind. And I felt as if God, Himself, was asking – “Are
you willing to share your son for a moment?” – although HE had shared HIS SON
for all time and eternity. That homeless
old man and my son reminded me, unwittingly, that “To enter the Kingdom of God,
we must become as little children.”
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