The Reason For the Season

We have a tendency during the Christmas Season to forget the true Reason For The Season. It has become such a hectic time of year running from one place to another. Christmas parties, shopping, wrapping presents, visiting friends. If we are lucky we might squeeze in one or two Advent Services, and if time permits we will try to get to the Christmas Eve Service at Church, but even that becomes a visistation of people we haven't seen in a long time.

The following story was sent by a new friend, and it sums up the Reason for the Season. God sent His only SON to us not to judge us but to redeem us from our sins, and essentially ourselves

~ 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 ha nds 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 a moment?' when He shared
His for all eternit y. How did God feel when he put his
baby in our arms 2000 years ago.

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.

'It is better to be liked for the true you, than to be
loved for who people think you are......'