Sitting at a table toward the back of the break-
fast room at the hacienda friendly to dogs was
a black man, white woman and their beautiful,

bronze, baby girl with a pink bow in her hair.
The couple lived a state away but there were
so many relatives converging for Christmas,

they decided a stay at the motel would be best.
There were two elderly white couples sitting
a few tables away from each other;

one couple was from Buffalo, New York and talked
about snow; the other couple just smiled; there
was a family of blacks, mother and father and two

teenage children at a table between the mixed race
couple and the quiet, smiling, elderly, white couple.
A family of five Hispanics came in and

borrowed a chair from the mixed race couple so all
five could sit around the same table. The white,
retired preacher and his wife sat at a table in the

midst of all the others. The preacher was so excited
to see a rainbow coalition of God’s children gathered
in the breakfast room of the hacienda friendly to

dogs that he went out of his way to go from table to
table to say Merry Christmas and gently affirm them
by putting a hand on their shoulders while he

asked them questions about traveling on Christmas.
If he felt badly about anything that Christmas
morning, it was that this group wasn’t having

communion together in worship, but, then again,
maybe the exactly formed, round, egg patties
and exactly formed, round, sausage patties

and the single, square slices of processed
cheese, all of which fit exactly on the
English muffins along with

orange juice, milk, coffee and tea would
suffice to share on a Christmas morning
at the dog friendly hacienda.