Twas the week before Christmas, when all through the hostel
Our luggage was missing; the airport said it was lost still.
Our passports were shoved down our pants with great care,
For fear that a bandit soon would be there.
We slept in our shoes, to keep ourselves warm,
Tossing and turning while we waited for morn.
As we lay shivering in our semi-clean beds,
Visions of deoderant danced in our heads.
When suddenly there arose such a clatter,
We pulled back the shades to see what was the matter!
There on the roof, was a Costa Rican man,
Wearing his tool belt, a hammer in hand.
He hammered and whistled, shouted and sang,
While a nearby old car died with a BANG!
We looked at each other and began shaking
From all the laughter our bodies were making.
For in that moment God helped us remember,
We walk in his favor, no matter what our adventure!