What to do on Halloween? (again)

A couple people asked me for my opinion, so I thought I would re-run this piece from 2006.  This year we will not be able to do our regular routine since Halloween falls on a Sunday and we have church commitments. This is the spirit of what we try to accomplish on October 31st, though -- being visible.  I think it's tragic when Christians hide from their neighbors on the one day that they're actually coming to our doors.

For more helpful discussion regarding Christians and Halloween, I direct you over to the Rabbit Room.

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Well, it's that time of year again. The inevitable question arises...what to do on October 31st? That's right...how do we celebrate Reformation Day?

No, just kidding...that's not the question I meant. The question is, what should we do as Christian parents of young kids on Halloween? What is the best thing for our children and our neighbors? How can we please God on this day?

Here's a brief history of what we've done thus far in our young life as parents...

The first two years, we did nothing. We gave out candy but our kids stayed home, because a) we hadn't thought much about how to approach the day b) it was too cold in Massachusetts to make it tempting to leave the house, and c) well, quite honestly, we were tired and just didn't care that much.

When we moved to Southern California, the "cold" excuse was gone, and as Cameron emerged from his toddler years we decided we'd give Halloween a shot. I dressed Cameron as John Elway and Ben as a train engineer, and took them around our downtown area during the day, where local merchants were dressed up, handing out treats.

This trip was a turning point for me. As we walked on the sidewalks of Camarillo, the older children I saw were consistently dressed as horrible things. "Scream" masks abounded. Blood and gore were everywhere. And I wouldn't have made a big deal of it, but Cameron, who was a tender age 2 1/2 at the time, kept asking, "Mommy, why do they look like that? Mommy, what's that?". I found myself searching for an explanation and one never came. What should I say? "Well, honey, today is a day that many people set aside for celebrating fear, death, and evil." So why were we doing it?

One thing you should understand about David and I...(I hope I am not speaking out of turn here; if I am, David, please leave me a comment to correct me) ...as parents, we try to be minimalists. By minimalists, I mean that rather than think about what we shouldn't do, we think about what we should do. We try to start at zero and then start adding things. A good example of this is at Christmastime, when we don't "do" Santa Claus. Rather than asking, "why not?", we prefer to ask, "Why? What does this accomplish?". With the short amount of time that we have with our children before they leave the nest, I would prefer to spend time on the truth rather than a myth...even if it is a fun, magical myth. So start knitting your "Mrs. Scrooge" sweaters for me now. In spite of the lack of Santa Claus at our house, we believe Christmas has done us good. And I say, God bless it. :-)

But I'm getting ahead of myself...back to the question at hand. Why should our kids dress up and go trick-or-treating? The only really convincing reason I could come up with is that it's a great night to hang out with your neighbors! What other night of the year will people willingly open their door to you? And this hit upon another problem I had with Halloween...people come to my house and stand back as their kids collect their candy, and then they're on their way. I was always left feeling like I wanted to talk to them more!

So we have happened upon a compromise that we hope to try out this year. We're going to throw open our garage, put up some twinkly lights, play some music and set up a table. We'll have candy for the kids and coffee, doughnuts and cider for the adults. We've invited another family from the neighborhood to hang out with us, since their kids don't go trick-or-treating, either. Our hope is that people will stay and chat and that it will be a more fruitful time than the usual "drive-by" candy collection.

The other option was to dress the kids up like Martin Luther and have them hammer a copy of the 95 Theses to everyone's doors. But I don't think that would be a good way of making friends with the neighbors. ;-)

I'll let you know how it goes!

P.S. Please don't "hear" what I'm not "saying." There are plenty of Christian parents who choose to send their kids out trick-or-treating for the same reason...to be visible in the neighborhood and get to know people. I'm just explaining why we're doing what we're doing this year, and maybe next year, depending on how it goes! Not everybody will land on the same conclusion that we have, and our traditions may change in years to come.

Most Likely to Eventually Be a Marine

Over the busy weekend, Jonathan was a bit of a zombie trying to clear the remains of a respiratory bug.  He sounded like a little smoker, wheezing and talking in a voice that sounded faintly like Joan Rivers.

Can we talk?

Monday it seemed like he was over it and bouncing back.  Then suddenly Monday afternoon, he was beset by a violent stomach malady.  He was in the bathroom about every half hour from 2:30 until 9 that night, growing progressively weaker.  Throwing up really takes it out of you in more ways than one.

We got him ready for bed and laid him down in bed, but he continued to quietly whine, holding his stomach and writhing.  He slept in five minute stretches interrupted by discomfort.  You can guess how much I slept.

At 12:45 I finally called the on-call doctor.  Precisely ten minutes later, Jonathan sneaked out of bed and got a cup of water, which he downed with great abandon (while his older brother Ben threatened to wake the entire house with his yells of, "NO JONNY!  YOU'RE SICK!  YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO JUST SIP!  NOW YOU'RE GOING TO THROW UP AGAIN!").  He promptly proved everyone wrong and fell into a restful sleep.

Then I waited for an hour waiting for the doctor to call back, which was a half-hour longer than they'd promised.  Half an hour doesn't sound like much, but it is precious at 1 AM.

During the course of the evening, I came to the conclusion that Jonathan probably had food poisoning from some bread that had mold in it.  This discovery was as a result of the rest of us eating the same bread at dinner and me yelling, "STOP!  EVERYONE WHO JUST TOOK A BITE OF BREAD, SPIT IT OUT RIGHT NOW.  WE ARE NOT EATING THIS."  The other kids had had some bread at lunch as well, but I think Jonathan's weakened immune system fell prey more than the others'.

Here is your helpful household hint for today:  you cannot always see mold.  I did not see it when I made the children's sandwiches at lunch.  But I definitely tasted it at dinner.

Anyway, I talked my theory over with the nurse, who finally called back at almost 2 AM.  She talked my ear off for a good long while and then connected me to poison control, who she said would be able to give me more information about eating mold.

If you have ever called poison control, you know that they ask your for your name and zip code upon calling.  I think by this time we are in the Top Ten Users of Carolina Poison Control.  They probably have my picture hanging in the break room at the office.

My first call...I remember it so well...was a frantic call placed when toddler Andrew horrified me by eating carpet lint.  Our new house had carpets that shed like mad, and every time I vacuumed I picked up a full load of lint.  Andrew had found some in the trash and decided it looked yummy.  My thoughts immediately went to stain treatments.  What if he died from eating carpet lint with Scotchguard on it?  Then there was the homeopathic teething remedy that Jonathan liked, remember that one?  And there were many others along the way.

What we have learned from all this is that though my children like to eat bizarre and dangerous things, they usually come to their senses and stop eating before they consume enough to really be in peril.  Maybe they will go to college after all.

Anyway, Poison Control at 2 AM -- nope, strike that, 2:15 -- on Tuesday morning was staffed by a man who clearly had better things to do.  I recounted our afternoon and evening for him in an animated manner, since by this time I was AWAKE and RUNNING ON ADRENALINE because WHAT IF THE MOLD IS DESTROYING MY CHILD'S STOMACH LINING EVEN AS WE SPEAK?!.

Actually, that's more like what I was thinking at 12:30.  By 2:15 I was thinking WHY IS THE ON CALL NURSE SO TALKY AT THIS HOUR? and HOW MANY TIMES DO YOU HAVE TO CALL POISON CONTROL BEFORE THEY GIVE YOU YOUR OWN DIRECT LINE?

Here is the extent of what the man at Poison Control said to me:

"Uh....could have been mold, yes."

That's it.

Oh, thank you!  That's very helpful, sir!

And yet the conversation lagged on for fifteen more minutes, during which he managed to inform me of exactly nothing new about mold or the consumption thereof.

So I headed back to bed and crabbed at my husband, which is what every Godly woman does at that hour to a man who has to meet friends for breakfast in four hours.

On Tuesday, in the midst of teaching school, I urged Jonathan to drink, drink, drink, and he ate the sum total of one saltine all day long.  He quietly laid on the couch and drifted in and out of sleep, never complaining.  Yesterday he bounced out of bed, completely back to normal.

We have decided that his endurance under trial has established him as the child in our house Most Likely to Eventually Be a Marine.  Freshman hazing can't be much worse than what he endured.

Overheard

Scene:  Afternoon.  In a desperate swipe for peace and quiet with a croupy, non-napping toddler, Mom has resorted to watching the Coco Cam after seeing it advertised on twitter.  This is a 24-hour peek into a random stairwell in the offices of Conan O'Brien's team.  Cameron is seated at the other end of the table reading chapter two of The Prodigal God, which is the book we're reading for our church small group right now.
Suddenly, a dancing taco appears.

Mom and Maddie begin giggling.  The giggles attract other siblings.  Eventually the noise grows louder.

Everyone but Cameron:  HAHAHAHA!  IT'S A DANCING TACO! HAHAHAHA!!!
Cameron:  I want to see!
Mom:  You're almost done, Cam.  Just finish the chapter and then you can watch with us as long as you want.
Cameron (sulking):  Sometimes I feel like the older brother...

Luke 15:

25 "Now his older son was in the field, and as he came and drew near to the house, he heard music and dancing. 26 And he called one of the servants and asked what these things meant. 27 And he said to him, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fattened calf, because he has received him back safe and sound.’ 28 But he was angry and refused to go in. His father came out and entreated him, 29 but he answered his father, ‘Look, these many years I have served you, and I never disobeyed your command, yet you never gave me a young goat, that I might celebrate with my friends. 30 But when this son of yours came, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him!’"

Fool With a Fancy Guitar

It's so easy to cash in these chips on my shoulder

So easy to loose this old tongue like a tiger

It's easy to let all this bitterness smolder

Just to hide it away like a cigarette lighter

It's easy to curse and to hurt and to hinder

It's easy to not have the heart to remember

That I am a priest and a prince in the Kingdom of God

I've got voices that scream in my head like a siren

Fears that I feel in the night when I sleep

Stupid choices I made when I played in the mire

Like a kid in the mud on some dirty blind street

I've got sorrow to spare, I've got loneliness too

I've got blood on these hands that hold on to the truth

That I am a priest and a prince in the Kingdom of God

I swore on the Bible to not tell a lie

But I've lied and lied

And I crossed my heart and I hoped to die

And I've died and died

But if it's true that you gathered my sin in your hand

And you cast it as far as the east from the west

If it's true that you put on the flesh of a man

And you walked in my shoes through the shadow of death

If it's true that you dwell in the halls of my heart

Then I'm not just a fool with a fancy guitar

No, I am a priest and a prince in the Kingdom of God

Counting Stars is available for purchase in the Rabbit Room store.

Behold the Lamb

Tickets are on sale for the Meck Community Church appearance of Andrew Peterson's Behold the Lamb of God tour.  It seems they go on sale earlier every year!  Get yours now because they always sell out.

You have all heard me go on and on about this concert.  It's definitely worth your time and money -- we always take our children and make it an annual holiday event.

(Mom and Dad...I got yours plus one)

Retreat Review

I got so little sleep this weekend I am on the verge of collapsing onto the couch and not getting up, so I thought I'd better jot down some favorites from the weekend -- in no particular order.

1.  One member of our leadership team was unable to attend due to health problems.  In order to make her feel missed, we called her and sang "Where, Oh Where Are You Tonight?" at the top of our lungs.  I think it made her feel better.



2.  Getting to know our speaker, Ruth, better.  Her story is here.  We discovered that she grew up in Simi Valley, CA, about twenty minutes' drive from where I lived in Camarillo.  We bonded over books and music.  She is an inspiring lady, using her suffering to the glory of God

3.  Stretching my teaching muscles a little.  I took one of the three teaching slots, and the ladies there got what they paid for. ;-)  Seriously, this was a far more serious assignment than I'd been handed before.  It is always good to take risks and trust the Lord to use your own efforts to the glory of God.  The Lord used the material to hammer me in a couple ways.

4.  Working through a hard time with a friend and clearing up misunderstandings, expressing our need for one another, and getting back to the Walk.  These things are never pleasant, but they yield good fruit always.

5.  Karoake.  My selections included "The Gambler" (aren't you proud, Mom? I don't think I even needed the words); "When I'm Sixty Four," and "Angel of the Morning."

6.  One of my friends surprised everyone by doing a Tina Turner dance.  That's really all I can say.  It's a far greater story than that, but she would come over and kill me in my sleep if I told you.

7.  The most "senior" lady amongst us was the only one to pull a practical joke.  There's a lesson there for all of us about getting older.

8.  We sang "Great is Thy Faithfulness" twice...ladies singing acapella in the middle of the woods on a mountain.  Nice.

9.  Increased vulnerability, trust, and honest conversation amongst everyone.

10.  Feeling justified in wearing a sweatshirt, sweater, scarf, and hat on a walk on Friday.

There may be something more to that last one...I have had a hard time regulating my body temperature today and I'm starting to wonder if I'm getting sick.  Maddie has a fever tonight and I may not be far behind her.  Which leads me to #11...

11.  Emailing the music director to tell him I won't be in choir tomorrow due to Maddie's illness, and admitting that there will no doubt be rumors about how I'm sleeping in and missing church because of the retreat.  His quick-witted reply was "It was probably all that drinking...."

(No, there wasn't any drinking.  Though if you saw us laughing you might wonder.)

It was a GREAT weekend!  Thanks for your prayers.

Run Away! Run Away!

This weekend I am attending a women's retreat with about twenty other ladies from my church.  We are going to the mountains, and --joy of all joys-- it is supposed to be COOL there.  Last year it was inappropriately warm and humid.  And though I acknowledge the sovereignty of God over the weather, I say, what good is a trip to the mountains if it's like that?!  No sweaters...no cold mornings...boooo.  It looks to be different this year, Lord willing.

The word "retreat" nearly always reminds me of the military command from Monty Python's The Search for the Holy Grail, where Arthur would order retreats by shouting "RUN AWAY!  RUN AWAY!".  I'm thinking of asking my doctor about this British humor disorder.

Anyway, your prayers would be appreciated for the community of women in attendance, as well as for my husband who will be manning the fort here alone.

(what is the deal with the military references, Kelly?!)

Just one other thing to tell you...last night as David taught our small group, Maddie sat sweetly in her rocking chair next to him and sang her new melodious tune called "My Poop Smells Bad."  Really.  If you want to know the words, you just repeat the title over and over and ascend the musical scale with each repeat.

Screwtape on False Beauty

We have engineered a great increase in the license which society allows to the representation of the apparent nude (not the real nude) in art, and its exhibition on the stage or the bathing beach.  It is all a fake, of course; the figures in the popular art are falsely drawn; the real women in bathing suits or tights are actually pinched in and propped up to make them appear firmer and more slender and more boyish than nature allows a full-grown woman to be.  Yet at the same time, the modern world is taught to believe that it is being "frank" and "healthy" and getting back to nature.  As a result we are more and more directing the desires of men to something which does not exist -- making the role of the eye in sexuality more and more important and at the same time making its demands more and more impossible.

Lewis, The Screwtape Letters

What I'm Reading...

Radical by David Platt from Taylor Robinson on Vimeo.

This book is rocking me already, and I'm only on chapter three.  You should read it.

Jonathan's Birthday

 A couple weeks back we went to Chuck E Cheese to celebrate Jonathan's fifth birthday.

 Jonathan and his friend Cooper

 Maddie was not enthused about the rides.

 Andrew's favorite "game" was the ticket-eater, where you turn in your tickets for a receipt.

The birthday boy with his Star Wars cake.  He was very specific about the cake -- he wanted chocolate sprinkles on it and Obi-Wan Kenobi.  We compromised on Luke Skywalker, Chewy, and Lando when we couldn't find Obi-Wan's head.

My children's first viewmaster!  They were all wondering where the batteries went.

You're Not Too Good to Shop at Goodwill

Yesterday I had maybe one of my best-ever trips to Goodwill.  In the picture above, please find:

5 boys' long-sleeved dress shirts
7 pint sized mason jars (I am mildly obsessed with mason jars of all shapes and sizes)
6 tiny canning jars with lids
8 single-subject notebooks
15 folders with various sports on the front
4 large containers Elmer's school glue
3 pairs children's scissors
1 name brand air filter for furnace

My total at the register?  Thirty-five dollars and change. 

It looked like Target had unloaded their leftover school supplies to this store.

Do you think women in ancient times came back to the village and bragged about how much they had bartered for?