Well, are you wondering if I celebrated Halloween or not?
Given my hesitation to glorify death and darkness, it’s safe to say that I’ve probably etched my wrinkle of champions a little deeper this week, pondering and weighing the necessity of our family stance on the holiday.
Without waltzing you down my winding thought processing, here’s the basis of my conclusion:
While I don’t know when Jesus’ actual birthday was, like the rest of my brothers and sisters in Christ, I choose to celebrate his birth on December 25th, Christmas day. And by celebrate, I mean CELEBRATE. Yes, we bake a birthday cake, sing and blow out the candles. Yes, we exchange gifts to one another in a gesture of festive joy and worship.
Do I think that everyone who lights up a tree and wraps up a present is celebrating Jesus? Nah. They’re participating in Christmas, but that doesn’t mean they’re honoring him.
Perhaps this is splitting hairs, but there seems to be a difference between celebrating and participating.
So it probably goes both ways. Are there people who, when celebrating Halloween, choose to perform séances in hopes to contact the dead? Yes. Are there people who, when celebrating Halloween, pursue sacrificial worship to Satan on this day? Yep, there sure are.
Does that mean that everyone who participates in Halloween is worshipping Satan? Well, only if you can claim that everyone who participates in Christmas is worshipping Christ.
Hardly the case, I’m sure.
So with Brian promising me that we’ll never resort to dark, psychotic, evil or gory costumes, onward we march into new family traditions.
Given the fact that Bennett was one year and three days old, I took advantage of his ignorance and dressed him in the most feminine outfit I’ll probably ever be permitted to enforce, an angel.
Our first stop was to the salon for our annual group picture. Naturally, Bennett and his angel wings charmed the socks off of everybody, walking his way through the salon, grinning from ear to ear.
Our second stop was to go visit Brian at work. (Bennett just wanted Timo’s phone.)
And our third stop, Chipotle. What? Everything on the menu was just three bucks if you were in costume! A girl could get used to that…
And, oh yeah, I was a clown.
Only a handful of kids rang our doorbell for treats. It’s just as well. Esther goes freakin’ ballistic.