I'm not so sure Trick or Treating is very good for the soul. Or maybe it is, it's just what you decide to do with what happens to the soul in the midst of it that makes it good or bad. Teaching moments with the girls abound for Victoria and me, and taking them out to collect on their most desirous delectables serves as no exception.
Now to start off with, we've chosen to make the most of Trick or Treating rather than run and hide from it. We know that not all share in our convictions about this, and there are good reasons why men and women of faith in Jesus do avoid it all costs. But our family traditions of carving pumpkins to see which family member creates the most creative creation (Barret won with his precision Minnesota Vikings carving), decorating the house with lots of happy orange faces, and dressing up in adorable, but innocent costumes are ones we hold dear and cherish with an indelible memory. We also feel they're rather benign, and work hard not to embrace the terror and horror of what seems to be the phenomenal extremes in our culture.
This was our second season of Trick or Treating with Willow, and third with Poppy. I believe that the ages of two to five may be some of the sweetest when it comes cuteness while knocking on stranger's doors and asking for candy. Of course the adults just can't resist the temptation to give the girls, dressed in a bumblebee and fairy princess outfit, respectively, just about as much candy as their eyes desire. Victoria and I watched it countless times as we reminded the girls to always say, "Thank you" after receiving every treat. Those moments, just those alone are enough teaching moments to make it all worthwhile. I don't know that anyone can say "thank you" enough, especially at their age. And it's always remarkable how easily they forget to do so after having just been reminded only three minutes earlier while at the house next door.
Which brings me to the main point of this post; that feasting your eyes on what you desire and then even receiving the bounty of that feast often tips the scales of etiquette and service on their axis. Case in point, when the girls arrived home after filling their bags with about two pounds of candy each, they dumped all of it on the family room floor to survey their loot. I remember doing that as a young boy and just being amazed that I might have enough candy to last into eternity. Victoria and I usually let them eat one or two pieces before they go to bed that night, and then we put the rest of it away until the next day. Waking up the next morning, both Poppy and Willow couldn't wait to get their hands on their bags of candy to see once again what they had garnered the night before. While getting ready for church, I let them dump the candy out on the floor again and then put each piece back in the bag from which it came. After leaving them alone, Poppy sauntered back into the bathroom where I was shaving and showed me her bag, but I noticed it was overflowing, with candy literally falling out on the floor because it was so stuffed. I asked her if that was all her candy, and she nodded and said it was, and then quickly caught herself and said that Willow had given her some of her candy. When I asked Poppy if Willow gave it to her or if she took it from her, she corrected herself and said that she took it from Willow. Another teaching moment! I knelt down, looked into those glassy, deep brown eyes like Victoria and I have so many times, and reminded her that if Jesus did what she did, then we wouldn't have Jesus at all because He gave away everything He had that we might have Him. A hard thing for a four year old to fully grasp, I'm sure, but she seemed to be genuinely convicted, if not by the Spirit then by my tone and her own conscience. So I then took her hand, walked back into the bedroom where Willow was totally unaware of being completely bamboozled by her older sister, and told Poppy to apologize to her little sister and then help sort the candy so they each had equal amounts. Dumping all the candy on the floor and mixing it up, I showed her how to find two of each kind and put one in Willow's bag and then one in hers. That seemed to work well, and they were both so happy playing the "sharing game". Of course, five minutes later I noticed that Poppy's bag was still heavier than Willow's, so we had to repeat the same procedure over again until Willow's bag actually had more. When it was all said and done, I think they were both rather pleased, and both that much wiser (at least I hope so).
When it comes to selfishness, Poppy is without guile; she doesn't know how to hide what's wrong. But Victoria and I know, and I think she's starting to see that little escapes our grasp. This is a good thing because nothing escapes God's grasp. We don't want any of our children to fear us, but we want them to revere us, knowing that there's infinite amounts of grace, mercy and love to dole out if they will but trust us. This image we want them to see of Jesus our Lord, and this image we want indelibly etched into their memories far more than any family tradition or scrumptious delectable.
When we receive more, we often require more. But when we realize that we've received just enough and don't need anymore, then we can enjoy the joy that we were created to crave. At Victoria's and my age, we're still trying to remember that we need no more, and that giving away what little we have is greater than any delectable this world has to offer, even infinite amounts of candy.
Requiring no more,
Tom (& Victoria)
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