“What was your teacher’s favorite color?” he asked. Sitting on a bar stool at the counter, he was about to select a color for the leaf printed on the page in front of him from a tray of oil pastels.
“What was your teacher’s favorite color?”
I tried to refocus my distracted mind, tilted my head to one side and urged myself to listen.
“I’ve had lots of teachers, Blake. I’m not sure. What do you mean?”
“Your teacher….” he emphasized the word, “at the nursing home.”
I barely remembered. The hubs didn’t remember at all. But somehow, after visiting a nursing home as a family about 350 days ago, my six year old son remembers that one of the people we visited was one of my teachers in grade school.
And this leaf is for our next visit. So he’s asking for a suggestion about the color.
Duh.
_________
A little over a year ago, the Hubs and I sat down for a long series of heart-to-heart conversations about our plans for October 31st.
It’s a day that many Christians have probably spent a lot of time arguing about. I’m thankful to say we didn’t argue. We just talked, and we talked and we talked. Lots.
For the first few years of parenthood we were outside of the US and Halloween wasn’t really a question we had to encounter. When we returned and the kids were still young, at first we avoided, but when it eventually came time to figure out what we would do, we were blessed to have invitations from neighbors for get-togethers, and decided to participate.
But somehow, it just didn’t ever exactly “sit right” in our souls. As a resident alien hailing from far corners of the Earth, the Hero Hubs was perplexed by the holiday, its origin and purpose, and even more perplexed about participating in it.
After a couple of years of costumes and trick-or-treating, we started asking questions like…
Are we just going with the grain because this is what ‘everybody’s doing?’
Does celebrating this holiday really line up with what we believe and want to pass on to our kids? Does it matter?
Should we be trying to swim upstream like we’ve always said we wanted to?
Is it possible to somehow redeem this day, the way historians think the day chosen to celebrate the birth of Christ was redeemed? There was a spark.
____
Fast forward dozens of deep conversations.
A week or so before the 31st of October last year, I was on the phone with someone at a local nursing home wondering if we could bring artwork the children had created to the residents and wish them a Happy Fall.
With the baby in the little push bike she’d just received for her birthday, and dozens and dozens of leaves we’d printed and colored and decorated for the residents, we strolled into the nursing home on the afternoon of the 31st.
At first our kids were a little reticent — we joked about a nursing home being a really scary place to bring your kids at Halloween — and then something shifted.
They caught on to the fact that every. single. person whose room they walked into was happier and more cheerful when we left. They discovered a wealth of people who were overjoyed, over-the-moon delighted to see them, simply because they are children.
They brought the gift of a smile, a kind word, a piece of art, and left with so much more — a feeling that they’d given some really great gift, that they mattered, that they had something to give.
Our eldest, who at first was perhaps the most reticent of all, eventually became the one who wanted to walk in first and present the art work, who didn’t want to skip a single door.
Funny enough, some residents, very aware of the day, hurried to a cupboard and pulled out a bag of stowed-away candy, delighted to have children to give it to.
It was a sweet reward that warmed my heart.
On the way to a restaurant for a special dinner out, we talked for a bit in the car afterwards about the experience, and the kids were delighted and hoped we would go back again soon.
I resolved to do so in my mind, and knowing that so often the Christmas season is a busy time for the nursing home with visitors coming to sing, I thought perhaps we’d wait until January, when the winter blues set in and try to bring some light again.
The new school semester started, life scurried on, and here we are nearly a year later having not visited once since then.
But these big doughy eyes look across the kitchen counter at me, willing me to remember a favorite color for a teacher.
Maybe it meant more than we realized for the kids.
Maybe we’re on to something. And maybe we aren’t.
But here are some things I feel sure about, after pondering it long and hard for ages.
Often in life there are a dozen different paths to take. And the path that might be right for one person might not be right for another.
While I am fully confident that Jesus is the path — the Way, the Truth and the Life — I am also confident that He has plans and purposes for His children, and they are not all carbon copies of each other.
Your race is in your lane, and my race is in mine.
I don’t expect anyone to try to swim my race, and I don’t want to try to swim anyone else’s, so I have to go to Jesus and ask — what does faithfulness look like, here, for me, to follow You?
And when I hear His still small voice saying This is the way, walk in it, well then, that is what I must do.
If your puzzler has been puzzling for a different path for October 31st, I wholeheartedly welcome you to join us in our hope to make it a day for us to give and love and be Light.
But first, be still — listen and wait.
As Paul wrote to the Romans, “One person considers one day more sacred than another; another considers every day alike. Each of them should be fully convinced in their own mind.” {Rom. 14:5}
Your race is in your lane, dear friends. Whatever that looks like for you.
So what should Christians do on October 31st? There’s not one right answer.
Just keep swimming toward Jesus.
xCC