This was Emailed to me. Thank you.
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 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 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. Hisaged 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 as tone. 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 eternity.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 reallyimportant. 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.
"Bruce Haney is an ordinary person who came out of the silent majority to become a recognized expert in the field of behavioral toxicology because of circumstance. Sixteen years ago he found himself horribly misdiagnosed by a then and still disbelieving medical community. An ornamental horticulturist, Mr. Haney had been slowly poisoned by the pesticides he used in his trade. These pesticides and chemicals had invaded his nervous system and brain. A team of doctors, private and state, insisted he simply suffered from extreme anxiety and depression.Neither our society nor our system of government easily accommodate individuals who are outside the normal pattern. Bruce does not fit that pattern.He is a brilliant scientific researcher. Most researchers specialize in a narrow area of scientific knowledge and are reluctant to draw conclusions fearing there is more still to be unearthed. Bruce has repeatedly demonstrated an amazing ability to combine separate scientific strands of knowledge to reach new conclusions." Click below for more about our close friend, Bruce Haney, who passed away Dec. 29th, 2007 in his home of a heart attack. Buy his book 'Brain Fog' . It has a great deal to say about perticide's and chemical's effect on our nervous system and brain. Bruce lived with us for awhile and played the harmonica too.http://www.brainfogweb.com/index_files/page0001.htm
Information from this beautiful site. " I have put together a “Top Ten” part of the portfolio, and I will try to keep it fresh and new throughout next year as well. For now, here are the ones that appeared to be your favorites throughout the year. Of course I like em too… or else I wouldn’t have posted em. " 
