The sun's wrath scorched my already burnt nose. Sweat cascaded down my brow. The park had been transformed into a festival, and I stood at the snow cone booth, pumping syrups into people’s treats. Although I had a facade of joy, I was too preoccupied with an emotional struggle to care. Why, I wondered, had I volunteered to help homeless people in this dreaded heat? Why is this even worth it? When can it be over? Stop it; don't go there. You are here to bless. But, I don’t want to. I want to go home in the air conditioning, and sleep.

As I attempted to stop wallowing in self-pity, the next wave of people swarmed the red-pinstriped tent. I plastered a phoney smile onto my face and began snatching the ice cones my comrades had scooped. The melting ice dripped all over my syrup dyed hands. The water, collecting dye as it fell to the ground, coated each paper cone with a mix of red, blue, green, the mixing of which generally resulted in a dull gray.

"Hi, what flavor would you like?" I chirped as an obviously homeless gentleman stopped at the table. His clothes were soiled, and nothing enclosed his feet. He had perched his bike, which held two grocery bags full of cans and bottles, beside the bench facing our booth. He smiled at me, two of his teeth were absent from his face. I winced. Gross.

The scraggly man attempted to read the flavors before making a decision. His entire face contorted with effort. Impatient, I spouted the flavors out at him, "We have grape, blue raspberry, lime, and fruit punch."

"Can I mix them?"

"Of course you can. Which ones would you like?" Oh, just hurry up already. Please? I’m ready to be done and over with this day. I want to get home and your indecision isn’t helping.

"All of them!" His eyes twinkled as if he hadn’t ever had one. He probably hadn’t.

"Right on it!" I began pumping the four different shades into the ball of ice atop a paper cone. Internally, I huffed, he could have just said all of them to begin with and saved me the hassle! Stop right there, missy. You’re here to bless, and you just blessed him. I handed him the multi-colored cone, envying the bite he took. It looked so refreshing! A drastic change from this weather anyways. I sighed and helped serve the next few customers, counting down the seconds until my break.

A little african-american girl, probably seven, shied up to the table. Her smile shimmered over her face and into her eyes. "Hi, honey, can I get you one?"

She blinked twice, summoning courage, "Can I get a purple one?"

Something struck me as different about her. I couldn’t place it, but it radiated from beneath her skin. I smiled, really smiled for the first time that day. "Sure, here you are, Pumpkin."

Grabbing the cone, she giggled, "You're really pretty. Thank you!"

I paused, she's kidding, right? I stared at the beauty standing before me, analyzing every detail of her in just a few short seconds. Her braided hair framed her rosy face. The white beads danced around her head as she moved if left and right, surveying with excitement the event we had put on for her. The yellow shirt she wore provided a stark contrast against her dark skin. Those bold, black eyes peered up at me, "You know what?” I said, “You're a beautiful gift from God. Don't forget that!"

She beamed, laughed and took a bite of her purple shaved ice before prancing away. I watched her recede into the crowd. My mood brightened considerably as I continued to pass out snow cones. Every pump of syrup stickied my hands, but nothing of annoyance mattered anymore. Wave after wave of people approached. The dye continued to color my hands. Absent mindedly, I rested them on the table. Another man came up to the table. Smiling, I apologized for the delay as I unglued myself from its surface. He laughed and I did too. We held a short, warm hearted conversation before I transferred the cone into his hand.

Right before we closed that little girl walked up again. A co-worker asked her what she wanted, but instead of answering with a color, she pointed at me and whispered, "Can she get it?"

I grinned, this is why I am here, to serve and to bless, while being blessed. I handed my mystery angel her blue and purple cone. She waved and left, having no idea the change she empowered in my life. That cone was the last one I served that day. I packed up, tossing out the soiled cones, wiping down the table, and removing some of the dye from my hands. Job well done, my chocolate angel. Job well done.