UNCONDITIONAL LOVE (Part I)

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, concerning 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 totally surprised to see the source of Eric’s joy.  It was an old man whose pants were baggy, his zipper at half-mast and his dirty toes poked out of would-be shoes.  His shirt was filthy and his hair looked 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 you,” the man called out ever so 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 glanced over at us sympathetically, then looking 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 shaken and 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.

 That ragged man sat positioned between me and the door.  “Lord,” I thought, “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, 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. The aged homeless man’s eyes closed, and I saw tears rolling down his face.  His time-worn hands, that were loaded with 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 time frame.  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 special baby.”  Somehow, I managed to squeeze “I will” from my constricted throat, which at the moment felt full of stones.  Then 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 unwashed and raggedy clothes.  I was a Christian who was totally blind, holding a baby who could clearly see.  And I felt as if God, Himself, was asking – “Are you willing to share your son for a moment?” – because 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.” (Matthew 18:3)  Stay tuned…more to come tomorrow! 

 Sisters and brothers, be continually blessed, and please (above all else) MAKE SURE YOU ARE READY TO MEET OUR SOON COMING KING.  Maranatha!