Let The Little Children Come To Me

Statue of Jesus with children

We were the only family with children in the restaurant. I sat Erik in a high chair and noticed everyone was quietly eating 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.

Book Cover: Come To Me

I looked around and saw the source of his merriment. It was an old 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 roadmap. 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, 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.

Elderly Signpost - Silhouette of old man with stick.

“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 relationship. 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 labour, 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 to say, “I will,” from a throat that contained a stone.

He pried Erik from his chest unwillingly, 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. You see, ma’am, I never saw my child grow up. My wife and son were taken from me in an automobile accident when they were both too young. I was never able to get over it.”

I said nothing more than a muttered thanks and “I’m sorry to hear that.” 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 of Jesus’ words:

“I tell you the truth, unless you turn around and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 18:3)


Reflection
Small Green Cross

It’s often said if you want to see the face of Jesus, walk among the poor, seek out the destitute or pick up a child. Children don’t understand why they can’t talk to a beggar but beggars know why adults don’t want them to!

It’s amazing how our lives change when we become a little more prosperous; we prefer independence to sharing and go to enormous lengths to enforce our rights. If only we could forever see others through the eyes of a child.

I hear myself listening to Jesus saying, “Let the little children come to [Him]“! (Matthew 19:14)

Understanding Others

Post-it with the message, "Remember".
Small Green-Grey Cross

Heavenly Father, help us to remember that the jerk who cut us off in traffic last night is a single mother who worked nine hours that day and is rushing home to cook dinner, help with homework, do the laundry and spend a few precious moments with her children.

Help us to remember that the pierced, tattooed, disinterested young man who can’t make change correctly is a worried 19-year-old college student, balancing his apprehension over final exams with his fear of not getting his student loans for next semester.

Remind us, Lord, that the scary looking bum, begging for money in the same spot every day (who really ought to get a job!) is a slave to addictions that we can only imagine in our worst nightmares.

Help us to remember that the old couple walking annoyingly slow through the store aisles and blocking our shopping progress are savouring this moment, knowing that, based on the biopsy report she got back last week, this will be the last year that they go shopping together.

Heavenly Father, remind us each day that, of all the gifts you give us, the greatest gift is love. It is not enough to share that love with those we hold dear. Open our hearts not just to those who are close to us, but to all humanity. Let us be slow to judge and quick to forgive, show patience, empathy and love.


Reflection

Small red Cross surrounded by lilies

Everyone has their own story and their own problems. Unless we take the time to stop and talk to our neighbours we will never be able to understand or help them.

This cheeky story and prayer is a wonderful example of how we can communicate with God but, yes, we must show more respect in our language and tolerance.

Remember, our merciful God wants to be a full partner in our everyday life.

They Won’t Let Me In!

Sketch of typical Church
Small yellow-grey Cross

It was a beautiful Sunday morning.

People were filling the church to its full capacity! As they entered, each was given a bulletin filled with announcements, the topic of today’s sermon, the songs they would sing and who to pray for.

At the end of the line stood an older man. His clothes were filthy and you could tell that he had not washed in days. His face was covered with whiskers, for he had not shaved for a very long time. When he reached the usher, he removed his tattered old brown hat in respect. His hair was long, dirty, and a tangled mess. He had no shoes on his feet and wore only soiled black socks to cover the sores upon his feet.

The Usher looked at him turning up his nose at the old man and said, “Uh, I’m sorry sir, but I’m afraid we can’t let you in. You will distract the congregation and we don’t allow anyone to disrupt our service. I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.” The old man looked down at himself and with a puzzled look on his face, he placed his old brown hat back upon his head and turned to leave. He was sad as he loved to hear the choir sing praises to the Lord. He loved to watch the little children get up in front of the church to sing their little songs. He carried in his pocket a small worn out Bible and loved to see if the minister preached a passage from the Bible that he had underlined. But he was respectful and didn’t want to cause any commotion, so he hung down his head and walked back down the steps of the big brick church.

He sat down on the brick wall near the edge of the churchyard and strained to listen through closed doors and windows to the singing going on in the church. Oh, how he wished he could be inside with all the others. A few minutes had passed by when all of a sudden a younger man came up behind him and sat down near him. He asked the old man what he was doing? He answered, “I was going to go to church today, but they thought I was too filthy, my clothes to old and worn, and they were afraid I would disrupt their service. Sorry, I didn’t introduce myself, “My name is George.” 

The two men shook hands, and George couldn’t help but notice that this man had long hair like his. He wore a piece of cloth draped over his body tied with a royal purple sash. He had sandals on his feet, now covered with dust and dirt. The stranger touched George’s shoulder and said: “George, don’t feel bad because they won’t let you in. My name is Jesus, and I’ve been trying to get into this same church for years — they won’t let me in either.”


Reflection
Small yellow coloured Cross surrounded by lilies

Churches are generally very good at opening their doors to strangers.

How about places of work, our home and/or our own heart? Am I just all talk and self-image?