Christmas calls for us to be open to the ‘Jesus’ in everyone

As this time of the year when our thoughts turn to the true meaning of Christmas, I would like to share this Christmas story with you. It’s entitled, “A Christmas Gift.”

We were the only family with a child in the restaurant. When I sat Justin in a highchair, he started to yell with delight and said, “Hi.” He pounded his fat baby hands on the highchair tray. His eyes were wide with excitement and his mouth exposed his toothless grin.

I looked around and saw the source of his merriment. It was a man with a ragged, dirty coat. His pants were baggy with a zipper at half-mast and his toes were poking out of his shoes. His shirt was dirty and his hair was uncombed and unwashed. His whiskers were too short to be called a beard. We were too far from him to tell, but he probably smelled.

“Hi, baby. Hi, big boy. I see ya,” the man said to Justin.

My husband and I exchanged looks, “What do we do?”

Justin continued to laugh and answer, “Hi, hi!”

Everyone in the restaurant looked at us and then at the man. The old geezer was a nuisance. Our meal came and the man began shouting from across the room, “Do you know how to peek-a-boo! Hey, look, he can peek-a-boo.”

Nobody thought the old man was cute. My husband and I were embarrassed. We ate in silence; all except Justin, who was running through his repertoire for the admiring 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 cashier 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 Justin,” 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, Justin leaned over my arm, reaching with both arms in a baby’s “pick-me-up” position. Before I could stop him, Justin had propelled himself from my arms into the man’s.

Suddenly, a very old smelly man and a very young baby consummated their relationship. Justin 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, gently, so gently, cradled my baby’s bottom and stroked his back.

I stood awestruck. The old man rocked and cradled Justin in his arms. Then, his eyes opened and looked squarely at mine. He said in a firm commanding voice, “You take care of this baby.”

Somehow I managed, “I will.” He pried Justin from his chest. I received my baby, and the man said, “God bless you, ma’am, you’ve given me my Christmas gift.”

With Justin in my arms, I ran for the car, holding him tightly, crying, “My God, my God, forgive me.”

I had just witnessed Christ’s love shown through an innocent, tiny child who saw no sin, who made no judgment. This child saw only a soul, and his mother saw a suit of clothes. I was a Christian who was blind, holding a child who was not.

I felt God asking, “Are you willing to share your son for a moment when I shared my Son for all eternity?” The ragged old man had reminded me of Jesus’ words, “Whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.”