Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la, la-la.
More and more children were knocking on my door with axes protruding out of their blood-tinged heads. The costumes were getting worse every year. Look, I’m not against kids having fun, but shouldn’t there be boundaries? For my kids, I drew the line at any costume involving red horns and a cape. The whole idea that Halloween for some was about paying homage to that evil beast is exactly what steered me into my Halloween revamp.
For a couple of years there were rumors (and evidence) of Satanic worshiping taking place in our community. Our minister was proactive in doing whatever he could to drive rituals and such happenings out of town. My husband and I, along with our two young children, moved to town on the back end of all that excitement. But I had already started a Halloween ritual of my own several years earlier. I vowed to do what I could to make a visible (and audible) declaration to counteract the evil side of this holiday. I know what some of you are thinking. Oh brother, she’s one of those. Well, call it what you will, but short of banning the trick-or-treat tradition from our lives, I decided I would merely add a little taste of Heaven to the day.
Every year, since my kids were born (mid 1980’s), I answered the door to “Trick or treat!”while playing Christmas music and unwrapping the first of the upcoming season’s decorations from storage. I couldn’t wait for the Christmas season to get here, anyway. (Yes, I was one of those). It was not my intent to be obnoxious about the whole thing; afterall, this was a personal thing between me and God. And when I opened the door to greet the little darlings I was fine with the occasional question by some observant kids with good hearing who asked,
“Is…is that Christmas music?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Why do you have Christmas music on?”
“Well, I love Christmas and I just want to sing songs to Jesus.”
Pause. And perplexed stare. “Oh.”
Meanwhile, some of my good-willed family members suggested, “You’re frightening the children.”
“Fiddle-de-dee,” I replied. “Have you seen some of those costumes? I hardly think a little holly jolly music will scar their harvest memory.”
It’s joyful in my little world. Some things I do even though no one else understands them. As long as I am not disrespectful or unloving I know I’m okay. Quirky, perhaps a little different, but I prefer to call it unique. Besides, the only children I may have scarred are my own, embarassed at trying to explain to their friends the Have-Yourself-a-Merry-Little-Christmas atmosphere on October 31st.
One year on November 1st, our minister and another leader of the church decided to pay us a visit. That happened to be the year I went full board Christmas nuts, and I’m not talking pecans. I had purchased a Christmas tree that I decided to put up early (and actually left up all year round for a taste of Victorian flare. But I digress).
“Is that a Christmas tree, Geri?”
“Yes actually, it is.”
“Starting the season a little early this year?”
Admittedly, I was a tad bit embarrassed, realizing they may now see me as a kook. “Um, well… I think we should remember Jesus’ birthday every day. Don’t you, Pastor?”
“Oh yes! We certainly should.”
While my husband spoke to the men I prepared some coffee for our guests. I felt my face turning red when I set a plate of goodies on the table. “The only thing I have to offer is homemade cookies. I hope you don’t mind the bells and angels.”
They chuckled and were very gracious. My husband and kids, on the other hand, needed resuscitating when the minister and deacon left. “Ahh! That was embarrassing!”
Joy to the world.