For Mimi:

This is a new feature of Blogger- the video option. It might take a while to load, so if you aren't interested in getting a glimpse of my home life, you're better off moving on to the next blog...

believers blacked out

Last Halloween we were caught off guard. We hadn't bought candy, we hadn't bought (new) dress-ups, and we hadn't thought of anywhere to go to celebrate. That's because we had chosen *not* to celebrate Halloween, as it's generally seen as a nod to evil, and evil we want no part in (see MacArthur's quote below).

About 6 o'clock, before it was even dark, our doorbell rang. I was surprised, as it doesn't ring very often, so I left my post at the stove wondering who wanted me to buy what. And boy was I surprised. It was kids! *Scary* looking kids. Teenagers, even. And they wanted me to give them candy. I sheepishly told them we didn't have any, and shut the door.

These first trick-or-treaters really scared my children. They didn't like scary looking people coming to our door, and the doorbell just kept ringing. My husband and I explained they were just dressed up for fun and wanted us to give them candy, but the children did not like it at all. We eventually turned out all the lights in the house, made a sign that said "trick-or-treating" in a "no" circle, and ate by candle light. Eventually they stopped coming. It was poorly planned and poorly executed, and I am not proud of it. I later read Tim Challies post titled Halloween Fast Approaches. He first quotes John MacArthur (a giant in the life of Challies) as having a typical view on the subject at hand:

“I think, it’s not a wise thing to have children go out trick or treating. I mean, I think it’s kind of dumb for Christian kids to dress up like ghosts and witches and weird things, and devil suits, and trouble-makers, and all that. I think, for example, you know, the whole thing of All Saints Day or All Hallows Eve has connotations, first of all of Roman Catholic tradition. It has connotations of demons and spirits. Plus the fact that little kids are exposed to screwballs as well as to cars, and all kinds of other things…What we do in our family is we have an alternative. Like you said, we do an alternative thing. We do something fun for the whole family. It varies from year to year, and our church has always done that, too, for the kids. Have parties and socials and things.”

After Tim states that whether or not you take part in Halloween festivities is completely a matter of conscience he goes on to make his compelling case:

My conviction is that it is a very poor witness to have the house of believers blacked out on Halloween. Halloween presents a unique opportunity to interact with neighbors, to meet their children and to prove that Christians are part of the community and not merely people who want only to interact with Christian friends or to only interact in our own way and on our own terms.

*snipping where he admits Halloween decorations do generally glorify evil*

Perhaps the greatest fallacy Christians believe about Halloween is that by refusing to participate in the day we are somehow taking a stand against Satan. And second to that, is that participation in the day is an endorsement of Satan and his evil holidays. The truth is that Halloween is not much different from any other day in this world where, at least for the time being, every day is Satan's day and a celebration of him and his power. A member of the discussion list wrote the following last year around this time: "Yeah... I've heard all of the 'pagan' reasons Christians should avoid Halloween. The question is whether we are actually participating in Samhain when we participate in Halloween? Who or what makes the 'Witch's League of Public Awareness' the definers of what Halloween is, either now or historically? Such a connection between Samhain and my daughter as a ladybug or my son as a Bengals Boy is highly dubious." And it is highly dubious at best.

I am guessing my neighbourhood is all-too-typical in that people typically arrive home from work and immediately drive their cars into the garage. More often than not they do not emerge again until the next morning when they leave for work once more. We are private, reclusive people who delight in our privacy. We rarely see our neighbors and rarely communicate with them. It would be a terrible breach of Canadian social etiquette for me to knock on a person's door and ask them for a small gift or even just to say "hello" to them. In the six years we have been living in this area, we have never once had a neighbor come to the door to ask for anything (except for this time). Yet on Halloween these barriers all come down. I have the opportunity to greet every person in the neighbourhood. I have the opportunity to introduce myself to the family who moved in just down the row a few weeks ago and to greet some other people I have not seen for weeks or months. At the same time, those people's children will come knocking on my door. We have two possible responses. We can turn the lights out and sit inside, seeking to shelter ourselves from the pagan influence of the little Harry Potters, Batmans and ballerinas, or we can greet them, gush over them, and make them feel welcome. We can prove ourselves to be the family who genuinely cares about our neighbours, or we can be the family who shows that we want to interact with them only on our terms. Most of our neighbors know of our faith and of our supposed concern for them. This is a chance to prove our love for them.

The same contributor to the email list concluded his defense of participating in Halloween with these words: "One night does not a neighbor make (and one night does not a pagan make), but Halloween is the one night of the year where the good neighborliness that flows from being in Christ is communicated and reinforced. We are citizens of another Kingdom where The Light is always on."

And on a light-er note, heres a picture I found of the two men I quoted today (thanks to the reformed evangelist):

(I think it's hilarious, and mean no malice by posting it here at all.)

I'm afraid of being: The Invisible Woman

This is powerful. Simple, amazingly sad, but true (for so many of us). I mentally fought against the idea the entire time I was reading until the (second to) last paragraph. Here's a snippet, but thanks to Barbara Curtis from mommylife.net, the source has been found. You can follow the link at the bottom to read it all.

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals.
We cannot be seen if we're doing it right.

By Nicole Johnson

It started to happen gradually …

One day I was walking my son Jake to school. I was holding his hand and we were about to cross the street when the crossing guard said to him, "Who is that with you, young fella?"

"Nobody," he shrugged.

Nobody? The crossing guard and I laughed. My son is only 5, but as we crossed the street I thought, "Oh my goodness, nobody?"

I would walk into a room and no one would notice. I would say something to my family - like "Turn the TV down, please" - and nothing would happen. Nobody would get up, or even make a move for the remote. I would stand there for a minute, and then I would say again, a little louder, "Would someone turn the TV down?" Nothing.

Just the other night my husband and I were out at a party. We'd been there for about three hours and I was ready to leave. I noticed he was talking to a friend from work. So I walked over, and when there was a break in the conversation, I whispered, "I'm ready to go when you are." He just kept right on talking.

That's when I started to put all the pieces together. I don't think he can see me. I don't think anyone can see me.

I'm invisible.

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, "Can't you see I'm on the phone?" Obviously not. No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all.

I'm invisible.

Here's the rest...

my chair

I've found a chair that my living room claims it can't live without. My living room tells me that it is the *perfect* chair, a beautiful chair, and one that will be amazingly practical for holding two full grown babies on my lap for story time (much better than squeezing onto a toddler bed, don't you think?).

It's going to float out in the middle of the room, facing our couch so when we have company, I won't have to sit sideways on my couch in order to see their lovely faces. It doesn't have arms, which make the floating abundantly more flowing, allowing your eye to skim right around the room without being rudely interrupted by bulky, overbearing arms.

Obviously the design of my living room with this added chair is only speculative, seeing as I come no where close to being all that great at interior designing (that's why I read Mark Cutler's blog, who, by the way, answered my question about wicker for me *in a post of it's own*). And the buying of this awesomely cool chair is only wishful thinking, of course, because wanting and having are two distinctly different "ings."

Honestly, it was one of those things that you didn't know you needed until you saw it. But I saw it. Now I want it, and I need to bury the idea until the time is right.

Easier said than done.

an innovative solution to the "sneaking food" problem

My babies...the ones that can walk, talk, and throw fits, have been sneaking food on a daily basis. They'll wake up at 5 am, open the fridge, and take out whatever their little hearts desire. Lately it's been the (buy one get one free) all natural hotdogs from Wild Oats. These puppies are delicious, expensive, and do *not* under any circumstances belong on the floor half eaten.

It's one thing for them to get food out because they are hungry and eat what they find, but they take food and play with it. Yesterday it was the buns, all torn up into little pieces. Last week it was chocolate muffins (eaten, yes, but with a million little crumbs all over the bed, floors, pillows, etc). One morning they got a new pack of hotdogs out, the three year old cut the pack open, and then proceeded to cut the dogs up into 1 inch pieces and throw them behind her bed. Why? Only Heaven knows. We *do* follow the recommendations of the If-Then chart if you are concerned that we don't adequately discipline our children. We do. Begrudgingly sometimes, but we do.

So last night, after disciplining sweet number two for the millionth time for this repeat offense (this time it was a scoop of sour cream...with her hand), my husband devised a plan. Have free gun locks? Don't have a gun? I bet you have a refrigerator!

Autumn in the Desert

It's really challenging to get into the seasonal spirit here in the desert. The sun shines every day, the sky is usually cloudless and brilliant blue, and the weather, well, it's certainly not fall or winter-ish. Last year as I was lamenting the fact that it was already Thanksgiving and it just didn't feel right, a friend from the homeschool group told me she had realized that you have to decorate your house. Otherwise the days come and go and there is no real change to them. I understood, and this year I have tried to do better. I am not a "seasonal decorator," so putting fake flowers and leaves and things around has been hard. I don't really "get" it. Our house isn't exactly spotless to begin with (we do live here...with three children), so the idea of putting things out...on the counters and whatnot...it doesn't make sense to add more clutter! Here's my briliant idea to infuse a little bit of fall (and creativity via my children) into our house.

My love nailed some hemp from either side of the wall/ceiling that seperates the kithchen from the dining room, and I used regular ol' clothes pins to hang the kids' art. My oldest protested when I hung the littles cats up there saying, "Mama, those aren't fall pictures!" But I like them, and there isn't anywhere else to display their precious art just yet.
I love to see the littles sit in their chairs at the table and stare at all the pictures. I think this brings me one step further to adjusting to the desert. It is, after all, where God brought us. And I want to be where He wants me to be...