Gavin,
I was so happy to see you this morning! You walked up the stairs by yourself - like mommy and I don't like you to do - and came walking into the bathroom with a big smile on your face to greet me. I gave you a hug and kiss and put you down, and you walked off as if you had more pressing things to attend to. I can't get over how quickly you are growing up. I know in your head you think you are big, but you are such a little boy. You gave mommy and I a big hug, like you do when all of our heads touch together, and you grab our necks. I will tell you a little secret, it melts our hearts when you hug us like that. But alas, daddies have to go to work so I left. When I got to work this morning I logged into my computer like normal. A folder was open on my desktop with some photographs in it and I clicked on one we took of you about a year ago. My heart began to ache. I longed for another neck hug and a smile, but I know I have to wait till I get home to get one. So I called mommy instead and she put you on the phone, and for the first time you actually started talking to me, "hah da" you said, followed quickly by some gibberish and some high pitched words in your Daisey voice and a tiny little "dahdie" as mommy got back on the phone. I absolutely loved our little conversation and I can't wait to get home to chase you around and try to decipher some more gibberish.
I love you,
Dahdie
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Thursday, July 13, 2006
A Baby's Hug
We were the only family with children in the restaurant. I sat Gavin in a high chair and noticed everyone was quietly sitting and talking. Suddenly, Gavin 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 Gavin
My husband and I exchanged looks, "What do we do?" Gavin 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 Gavin, 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 Gavin," 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, Gavin leaned over my arm, reaching with both arms in a baby's "pick-me-up" position. Before I could stop him, Gavin 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.
Gavin 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 Gavin 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 Gavin 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 Gavin in my arms, I ran for the car. My husband was wondering why I was crying and holding Gavin 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."
This story was forwarded to me as a an email, but I was so touched by the little boy in the story and how closely it resembled Gavins bahavior at 15 months that I had to post it here.
If only we could keep these things in the forefront of our minds at all times.
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 Gavin
My husband and I exchanged looks, "What do we do?" Gavin 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 Gavin, 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 Gavin," 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, Gavin leaned over my arm, reaching with both arms in a baby's "pick-me-up" position. Before I could stop him, Gavin 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.
Gavin 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 Gavin 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 Gavin 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 Gavin in my arms, I ran for the car. My husband was wondering why I was crying and holding Gavin 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."
This story was forwarded to me as a an email, but I was so touched by the little boy in the story and how closely it resembled Gavins bahavior at 15 months that I had to post it here.
If only we could keep these things in the forefront of our minds at all times.
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