halloween is HAPPY!

This is good — both Greg and The Anchoress have said it, so now I don’t really have to. But what the heck:

Halloween is kewl.

GASP! SHAME! Christians aren’t supposed to utter that, right? Because, says Greg:

Apparently the more acceptable thing to do now – the more scriptural, i.e. “biblical” – thing to do is shutter the house and pack the kids off to church for an “alternative” evening of fun and games. zzzzzZZZZZZZ…. Oh, sorry. Um, where was I? No ghosts or gremlins allowed here, by golly. The only costumes you’re going to see are going to be Bible characters. The good ones, of course. No Pilates or Jezebels, that’s for sure. And although I understand with our culture in profound disarray it was almost inevitable that such a safer alternative come to pass, I still have to wonder if this is the best we can do. As Christians, you know. Is this just one more time when we boycott our culture, insulate ourselves from real life, and distance ourselves from our communities for reasons that only we know and understand? I mean, do you think the rest of the neighborhood is really hip to why we do what we do? Really? Remember what I said at the top about America spending almost as much on Halloween decorations as it does on Christmas decorations? I wonder if we’ve really thought this whole thing through – what our darkened, shuttered houses say to our neighbors on the one night they can be guaranteed to visit us.

Yup.

And The Anchoress shares some personal memories of Halloween … and the FUN of it all! For Pete’s sake!

Last year, My Beloved and I went trick or treating with our then-4-year-old niece, Piper. She was all decked out in her pink and blue tulle princess regalia and her little light-up tennis shoes. A proper princess, indeed. She was enchanting and utterly, smushably cute. And her teensy “beech” (speech) problems made her just that much more irresistible to everyone. I’m tellin’ you true.

She’d charge up to each house, with us holding back a bit, ring the doorbell by herself (“I can do it, Tee Tee!”), wait for that door to open, rocking back and forth on her feet, and when that glorious moment happened, when that door FINALLY opened, she’d cry out:

“FRICK O’ FREAT!!”

Oohs and aahhs ensued, with many a neighbor giving her extra candy — for sheer cuteness’ sake, I’m sure.

Then she’d stare down at the fresh booty in her bag and, wide-eyed, say:

“OH! GANK YOU! GANK YOU!!”

Every house, the same. Good, neighborly feelings all ’round, a little girl’s candy-coated dreams coming true, and some vigilant adults, giddy with glee at her antics …. and her unabashed, slightly mispronounced good manners.

Back at home, she dumped out her bag and proceeded to give most of her candy away — to her older brothers, her parents, My Beloved and me. She shared with everyone. She gave us the good stuff, too. There was no parental exhortation for her to share; she simply did it, out of her open and generous heart.

There was nothing of evil. There was nothing of demons.

But there was magic, though. The magic of family giggling together, abandoned to silliness. The magic of a neighborhood sharing the spirit of this annual candy beg-fest. And the magic of a little girl’s sweetness, far sweeter than any candy.

Somehow, I think Jesus was smiling down on our tiny frick or freater that night.