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 both 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 we 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 glanced 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 absolutely
embarrassed. We ate in silence, except for Eric, who was now running
through his repertoire of 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 body 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 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.”
Stay tuned…more to come tomorrow.
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