Halloween is almost here again. New Year's, Valentines, St. Patrick’s Day, Fourth of July and here it is, just that fast. We are bombarded with images to make us fearful. Grotesque movies of ghosts, murder and witches find their way into our homes. Everything is about Halloween. It is worse than Christmas movie time. Where did we get such a holiday anyway?
According to Don Vaugham: Halloween’s origins can be traced back to the ancient Celtic festival known as Samhain, which took place on Nov. 1 in contemporary calendars. It was believed that on that day, the souls of the dead returned to their homes, so people dressed in costumes and lit bonfires to ward off spirits. In this way, popular Halloween tropes, such as witches, ghosts and goblins, became associated with the holiday.
When I was a child, I remember shivering in my bed watching the curtains billow out into the room under the breath of the night wind. Terror gripped every muscle and nerve in my body. It took the courage of a trained soldier to slip out of my bed and rush to the next room to snuggle next to my older sister, Margaret Ann. Her soft voice comforted me and made me unafraid. When we traveled around canyon roads on family vacations, I would crouch between the seats of the car and scream out my trauma until we reached the flat ground again. Once I watched a horror movie where a pair of hands were disconnected from the body and came alive. Even today, visions of those eerie hands creeping up the wall or across the windshield of a car steal into my mind to shiver my spine with icy chills.
I hated to hear stories of murder or accidents. The details might be sketchy when I first heard them, but before I could quit thinking about it, I would see the whole scene in vivid detail. It was as if I were right there on the scene when it happened. Those thoughts would sicken me to the very center of my being.
As years sped by, I overcame my fears and learned to turn off the video camera of my imagination. It wasn’t an easy task. It took constant monitoring of my mind. I quit watching scary movies. I didn’t spend too much time watching the news. I heard about crime and violence secondhand. I took this attitude: If something dreadful happened, someone would tell me. They always did, sometimes with more detail than I could manage. When I heard the news, I didn’t pass it on unless it was necessary. I thought everyone was as sickened by the horrible information as I was. It took days of prayer and kicking the thoughts out of my mind to erase the sickness in my heart.
Halloween had become just another holiday when our adopted son Paul came into our home, and I began to wonder how Halloween was affecting our children. Paul came to our home looking like a cute dark-eyed, dark-haired 6-year-old, though he was 11. Paul was raised on the street in Bulgaria as a gypsy until he was 6. Then he was left in an orphanage, where he was abused and became undernourished. Since that time, he was in three orphanages and was finally adopted by a couple in America who ultimately decided to give him up. It was a sad little story for one so young. Our hearts wound around his in bands of eternal love. We wanted to make him part of our family. Paul was terrified of loud noises, big machinery and the dark. He had imaginary friends who haunted him at night. He wouldn’t even go to the bathroom without me standing beside him.
After my childhood experience, I could only imagine how real those scary friends must be. I knew how vivid they must be. I thought of a little boy shivering with fear on a dark street with no one to slide into warm sheets with. No comforting voice to wipe away the fear. I thought of a little boy being the brunt of big boys' pranks in an orphanage. I thought of my imagined fears all being a reality to him. No wonder he clung to me like a frightened kitten.
I realized I needed to teach him to overcome his fears. When he went into the bathroom, I said, “I will be right here. I will sing to you and you will know that I have not left you alone.” I sang to him and gradually moved back away from the door. I encouraged him to sing so he would not be afraid when he was alone. One night, he walked into a dark living room. I could see his fear shaking his inner being as he faltered into the dark to find the light. In broken English, he sang, “I am a child of God and He has sent me here.” His fear fell in submission to his newfound faith.
We taught him to pray away his scary imaginary friends. We taught him about Jesus, who loves him. He often prayed, “Help me to make good choices so Jesus will like me.” Today, he understands Jesus is his friend no matter what kind of choices he makes, and that he can face any fear with courage and faith.
As I remember Paul and the fears that are so hard to erase from a young and tender mind, I wonder about parents who let their children fall prey to horror movies and unedited television. Don’t they know memories last forever? Don’t they know what is planted in a child’s mind will grow and flourish in adulthood? Just because a parent knows the difference between real and imaginary, it is no guarantee the child knows. Real and imaginary were the same when I was a child. I was just as terrified of imaginary things as I was of real things.
Halloween has become a time to celebrate and engender fear. Spook allies, grotesque costumes, masks and yard ornaments of sick crimes are everywhere. It is a time to celebrate fear. I wonder what children think as they take part in this holiday. Do they really understand that it is a magnificent charade, or is it scaring their minds with fear?
Parents wouldn’t dream of letting a child play in the garbage. Children might soil their faces and hands. They might get germs in their mouths. Those same parents open a garbage pit into a child’s mind and think nothing of it. They don’t consider a child’s clean soul is much more valuable than a clean face. Don’t they know that children belong to a loving God who said, “Suffer the little children to come unto me.”?
The garbage the media writes in a children’s mind may darken the path so they will never know they are children of God. Maybe they will never be able to overcome the shiver of fear we have placed in their minds.
I am not sure how to endorse the holiday Halloween has become. I want the simple remembrance of the spirits of the past. That would be something to celebrate. Not this time to celebrate and magnify all the fears we have in our culture. We dress up as the grotesque and sordid evils of the world. Some even make fear a reality with tricks that can hurt or even kill. We parade the streets, begging for candy from door to door with the threat of a trick. We dress our little ones up in masks they don’t understand and teach them that Halloween is fun. I wonder what they are thinking.
I am not advocating a national uprising to eradicate Halloween completely. Dressing up in costumes is fun and a time when parents and children can bond.
I am advocating that parents take time to teach their children the difference between real and imaginary. Teach them to face their fears with courage. Help them implement strategies to deal with the images that come into their minds and, above all, monitor what they watch on TV and the internet. Keep them from the dark side of life until they can distinguish the difference between garbage and goodness. Give them a warm place to come when they are afraid.
