Recollection

I had a cup of hot chocolate recently. The cheap kind that mixes with water and tastes distinctly different from hot chocolate made with milk. Anyways, as I drank the water downed mixture, I was reminded of a long long...gosh it really has been a long time ago. It was the Christmas season and Tim and I were doing our part to spread the word of diversity and the true meaning of Christmas, stop laughing all of you. And what was this activity you ask...why none other than the Garden of Hope. The Garden of Hope was atop a hill in the coldest part of our hometown. Booths were setup to share the stories of Christmas around the world. There were warm houses for Sweden where our friend Sam worked, warm caves for the story of Jesus, warm brick homes for the Germans, and then there was a tent... a cold brown tent. And who was in this cold brown tent spreading the story of Kwanzaa, none other than Tim and me. Each night for a week or several weeks...it’s hard to remember. We would go out there read our script and play Star Wars with the wooden staves they had given us as props. Every night we would warm our bodies and drown our sorrows in an endless supply of water downed hot chocolate. I can clearly remember both of us swearing we would never drink another cup of hot chocolate in our lives and every time I do I think back to that time. We both seem so much different now then we were on that hill. And I guess we are. But I can assure you this, if someone handed us both wooden staves no one would find it surprising if we suddenly burst out into a game of Star Wars.