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

Suddenly, Erika squealed with glee and said, "Hi there." She pounded her fat baby hands on the highchair tray. Her eyes were crinkled in laughter and her mouth was bared in a toothless grin, as she wriggled and giggled with merriment.

I looked around and saw the source of her 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 girl. I see ya, beautiful," the man said to Erika. My husband and I exchanged looks, "What do we do?" Erika continued to laugh and answer, "Hi, hi there."

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, she knows peek-a-boo." Nobody thought the old man was cute. He was obviously drunk.

My husband and l were embarrassed. We ate in silence; all except for Erika, who was running through her 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 Erika," 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, Erika leaned over my arm, reaching with both arms in a baby's "pick-me-up" position. Before I could stop her, Erika had propelled herself from my arms to the man's arms.

Suddenly a very old smelly man and a very young baby consummated their love relationship. Erika in an act of total trust, love, and submission laid her 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 her back. No two beings have ever loved so deeply for so short a time.

I stood awestruck. The old man rocked and cradled Erika 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 Erika from his chest unwillingly, longingly, as though he were in pain. I received my baby, and the man said, "God bless you, ma'am, for this gift."

I said nothing more than a muttered thanks.

With Erika in my arms, I ran for the car. My husband was wondering why I was crying and holding Erika 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 daughter for a moment?" when He shared His Son for all eternity.

The ragged old man, unwittingly, had reminded me, "To enter the Kingdom of God, we must become as little children..."