Giving Credit Where Credit's Due

Please Note: Portions of this work contain the intellectual property of third party authors and contributors. As such, third party authors and contributors retain all copyrights in the individual works and reserve all rights not specifically granted herein

Saturday, January 19, 2008

A Baby's Hug

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 as tone. 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 a 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. 'If this has blessed you, please bless others by sending it on. 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. This one is a keeper. This Was Emailed To Me. THANK YOU!

No comments:

Double Bass



Double Bass Links Page

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...

My Spelling?? Thanks For Understanding

My Spelling?? Thanks For Understanding
Photo by by billsaturno cc click to link, A note 'bout my spelling... I'm typing as fast as I can with one finger on one hand, and trying to make sense and everything. I haveave to look at the keyboard, NOT the screen...to see where ALL those letters are, and my nect won't bend or turn...whoops, that's NECK, not 'nect'. Please, forgive me and give me a little 'LEE-way' [spell?]...Thanks, Jan SMILE

Musical Grandma's Are Cooler

Musical Grandma's Are Cooler
by Sunfrog Shirts

Yea,...Just Wondering?

Yea,...Just Wondering?
Aunty Acid's photo

Click to link for credit

We Respect Others Rights, Jan and Steve

Please Note: Portions of this work contain the intellectual property of third party authors and contributors. As such, third party authors and contributors retain all copyrights in the individual works and reserve all rights not specifically granted herein

The Truth

The Truth
Thanks Dick Metcalf, image by unknown cc

Yep...NOT ALONE.

Yep...NOT ALONE.
By INCREDIBLE ME, click for link

We Respect Others Rights, Jan and Steve

Please Note: Portions of this work contain the intellectual property of third party authors and contributors. As such, third party authors and contributors retain all copyrights in the individual works and reserve all rights not specifically granted herein

Want Your Gig Info Published Here?

Want Your Gig Info Published Here?
If you're a musician, band or club owner in my area, and want your live music event included on my BARTLETT ON BASS. Please send your gig info. at bartlettonbass@aol.com for review. I will review and post the very best gigs and live music events in the area. Thanks for reading BARTLETT ON BASS and supporting live music. ' T. Jan'...JA ROSE-BARTLETT.

Blog Archive

Followers

All Work..No Play?....Never...Jan

All Work..No Play?....Never...Jan
by tamakisono cc.

Please Unplug Me. Just Loving My Life

Please Unplug Me. Just Loving My Life
by george h takei

OLD HIPPIES LIVE HERE

OLD HIPPIES LIVE HERE
BY Pierre-Olivier CC

About me....T. Jan Rose

My photo
Yelm, Washington, United States
I [T. Jan] share and review web sites with music, recipes and gardening information. I have been a mother, wife, nurse, apartment manager, chimney sweep, long distance runner, musician, artist, organic gardener and, A student of the GREAT WORK at R.S.E. Jan does the computer, Steve plays the bass and doesn't speak computer....but Jan doesn't speak bass...so, this works out well for us...Jan writes about music news, and this area's music events. The postings are all mine., . We share ideas about posts. Jan loves to create beautiful blogs to share ideas and keep my brain active, recovering from M.S. and other things. Jan always operate the computer, ..AND, all posts signed by Steve are in his exact words, and All our Sites licensed under Creative Commons. T. Jan.... Steve says..." I love animals, gardening, kids, music, nature and fishing.. A student of R.S.E. Really like being in nature and living simply. Enjoy teaching electric bass. Enjoy our sites." Steve.