A baby's hug (don't enter if you don't want to read long story)
 

From my christian cousins.. I don't normally read these emails..

worth the read thou.

A Baby's Hug
>
> We were the only family with children in the restaurant. I sat Erik
> in a high chair and noticed everyone was quietly sitting and talking.
> Suddenly, Erik squealed with glee and said, 'Hi.' He pounded his fat baby
> hands on the high chair tray. His eyes were crinkled in laughter and his
> mouth was bared in a toothless grin, as he wriggled and giggled with
> merriment.
>
> I looked around and saw the source of his merriment. It was a man
> whose 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?'
>
> Erik continued to laugh and answer, 'Hi.'
>
> 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
> 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 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 sidestep 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.
>
> Suddenly a very old smelly man and a very young baby consummated
> their love and kinship. 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, 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
> and 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, lovingly and 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 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.'
>
> Sometimes, it takes a child to remind us of what is really important. We
> must always remember who we are, where we came from and, most importantly,
> how we feel about others. The clothes on your back or the car that you
> drive or the house that you live in does not define you at all; it is how
> you treat your fellow man that identifies who you are.

Nice story, but I'll have to admit I start to tune out once I see words capitalised like "He" and "Him"

Nice story