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I sat at a restaurant today, waiting for a new friend. While sitting, I witnessed a wonderful act of self-serving love that I want to pass on. I've never seen this before and I watched in wonder as an anonymous woman made an anonymous baby happy so that she could take a phone call. This post is my hug to her for demonstrating how love can be the solution to so many more "problems" than we give it credit for. But it was more than the baby who was happy when she was done; all who witnessed it were happy in that baby's happy glow.

The restaurant is a lovely place, old worldly with fresh vaulted ceilings and windows to let the cool November light stream in. It's painted and decorated to feel like a french country kitchen, big unfinished butcher block tables and chairs create a calm, soothing atmosphere. This is something of a veneer, however, because the daubed, milky-toned ocher paint effects mask the concrete walls and columns of the steel-hearted office building overhead. I would have completely accepted the peacefull illusions painted over the bones of modernity were it not for the acoustics of the place, which were harsh to the ear. Even at 20% seating capacity it was noisy as the sounds of eating and normal conversation zinged up into the high ceiling, accelerating off the hard, cold surfaces to clang into each other.

This cacophonous juxtaposition of auditory and visual reality didn't bother me until the shriek of a little two year old four tables over split through the already harsh sounds bouncing above my head, doubling the jangling-nerve effect of the ambient noise. Poor little tyke had been trying to move her stroller when the nasty thing fell on her. The terror on her face bespoke of a monstrous demon crashing her to the earth, pinning her in it's gray and black plastic arms and burying her in inky fabric folds to block out her view of the light until her mother could rush around to pull the beast off her and scoop her into loving, warm only-like-mommy-has arms. But the loving embrace could not quell the cries and horror-stricken tears from gushing down her little pink cheeks.

I was slightly annoyed but sent forgiving love to her and her mom because, well, I've been there (on both sides). There's just no getting around the fact that babies get scared a lot, and cry and... well this is how they learn that monstrous strollers really aren't so monsterous after all. Breathing deeply, I looked around to see if others were sending over empathy or stabbingly angry looks.

My eyes fixed on a woman dressed in fashionable black tights, a black tight-fitting sweater with a nicely jaunty, off-the-hip belt that - if it wasn't leopard skin, it might as well have been. Her olive skin and perfectly frosted long hair framed large golden hoop earrings. I didn't see whether she had gorgeously painted nails but I bet she had those too. As she got up to paw in her purse her phone rang and I watched, mesmerized as she put it to her ear. The place was hard to hold a cell phone conversation in before the little one started yelling and I can only imagine she couldn't hear anything with the squawky little kid at full volume. Nevermind that, the woman - phone to ear - turned and walked over to the miserable little ball of screaming toe-headed imp. My energy was already building to be mad at her for sharply criticizing the sad little human when she picked up a small pumpkin off the table, smiled a stunning smile at the little one and waved, all the while, talking on the phone. The baby abruptly stopped screaming. It was magic. The woman handed the pumpkin to the child and snagged another one as her business transaction came to a close. Handing the now-delighted child the other pumpkin, she closed her phone, gave a little winky smile to the baby and her mother and headed back to gather her things to leave.

Happy two year olds are a joy. I felt it all through the restaurant.

A little while later I was deep in conversation and happened to notice that adorably, bubbing-over-with-happiness child riding in her stroller and clutching two little pumpkins as though they were the Queen's treasures. And they were treasures, her well-earned reward for allowing herself to release her fear and terror and accept the loving gifts of a total stranger who needed to take a phone call.

How many lives would I touch if I confronted every annoyance and angry moment with love and acceptance of what is? How many anxious people could I soothe if I dug deep enough into the well of love living in my heart to dole it out instead of annoying looks and tense shoulders? I don't know, but this woman who had her call and quiet too has challenged me to find out. I cant' wait to find the next crying baby in my life. How about you?

Photo Credit: This is my dad at in his new little cowboy outfit. It's one of the few truly happy photos I have of him as a child. I treasure it for the joy in his heart that day.