Halloween guest post: the other guy

Ha. 

Got you. 

Once again. Your people - your bunch of stupid sheep - the ones you're so proud of. It doesn't take much, does it? Heh heh heh.

There aren't many opportunities as good as this, you know. You've closed so many of them down, but not this, not yet, it seems. What is it? Too much for you? Is it some sort of test for the sheep? If so, you must be shaking your head in disappointment. 

Me?  Ha. I love it.

Halloween. You know, it's only a bit of fun. It's all for the children. They say that about Christmas too, don't they? It's for the children really... oh, it makes me smile. Let them think that Halloween is just a bit of fun for the children; nothing sinister at all. You know what? If they're offering the children, I'll take them. Sounds good to me.

What was it that guy said, one of the Big Guns, wasn't he?  CS Lewis? Something about believing that I don't exist? Oh yes, so many people believe that. They're the ones who think that it's all just fun and games. While they go about thinking that it doesn't matter, I am free to do just as I want. 

I love the stuff they can buy from the supermarket these days. Some of it is really gruesome. I've known  small kids start to cry when they see the masks and costumes and decorations. Kids see me, sometimes, you know, they see things as they are, but by the time they're old enough to explain why they're so spooked, the adults have talked them into thinking it's all just a bit of fun. The Halloween merchandising seems to get more and more explicit and it's just lovely. The dead and decaying, evil, nasty, scary...it's beautifully dark; and then there are pumpkins. Admit I'm a bit baffled about pumpkins; nothing inherently evil about pumpkins - but I'm working on it. I like it when they take a pumpkin and cut a nice aggressive face on it. Something that gives the littlest ones nightmares. 

They dress their kids up, you know. They put witches' costumes on them, or disguise them as demons or murderers or corpses and douse them in red food colouring. They have nooses and knives and missing eyes and all that lovely disturbing stuff. They make them look as if they've been dismembered or as if they're one of my very own. Why on earth would they do that? The rest of the year we struggle to get them to take us seriously and then, on This Day each October they come to us, ready and willing. They just invite us in. 

And we never refuse an invitation. It'd be rude, wouldn't it?

I don't think they know where it all came from, do they? The Druids and their human sacrifices, all the blood and pain and fear. They thought that on this night each year the demons roamed free and in order to keep themselves safe they sacrificed their children to appease us. The Night of the Dead. Love it. 

Nothing changes. They think they're sophisticated but the more things change, the more they stay the same.

They think it's about sweets and chocolate and orange and black and so on, but they're commemorating evil. They're lifting me high and I love it. I don't often get to see the view from up here. I have the time of my life. If they knew, would it still be a bit of fun? Yeah, I know, probably. They don't have much common sense, do they? I'm so glad that they don't. If one day it turned out that they saw it all for exactly what it is they probably wouldn't be so quick to dress up their little darlings as demons. 

But while they do... heh heh heh. This is my time. This is the night when it's ok to dwell on all that's evil and nasty and corrupt and unhealthy, even in polite society. When I become socially acceptable. Most of the time they don't think about me much but tonight I am the guest of honour. Not you! You know that bit in your Bible where you tell them to contemplate all the good and wholesome things? All the 'pure and noble and honest and whatever...' you know that bit? Ha! Not tonight, my friend. Tonight they think about all the other stuff. I positively encourage it. 

And you know what? So much angst. So many Christians feel uneasy about Halloween but don't really know what to do about it. Can it really do any harm? And all their little friends are having Halloween Parties and the little souls so want to dress up and witches don't exist really, do they? Any more than ghosts? So surely it wouldn't do any harm, as long as we don't frighten the neighbours? 

Oh I love it. 

On the subject of neighbours, that's just an added bonus. I hadn't really thought much beyond human sacrifice and scaring the pants of small kids, but then they thought up the Trick or Treat thing! Oh, beautiful. Dress their children up as death or despair or destruction and send 'em round to the old people. Ask them for sweets or throw eggs at the window. Demand money or chocolate or squirt shaving foam through the letterbox. And as for the teenagers who don't have shivering, indulgent mummies at the end of the drive... they get up to Real Mischief. And the icing on the cake is that so many people are so afraid of visitors that they sit in the dark pretending to be out and they're nervous in case the doorbell goes and their houses are full of unease and apprehension and anxiety. Right up my street, and I didn't have to do a thing.

Such fun. I really have fun on 31 October. It's the best bit of the year. All of a sudden I'm legitimate. I'm the One they want to be with. I'm the Main Man. Not you. Oh no, not you. You're the party-pooper.

I am Darkness, and for one night, darkness is where it's at. They like the thrill. They're deceived into thinking that it's all about fun - and I am the Deceiver. It may be only a small opening but I'm in there quicker than you can say 'resist the devil and he will flee from you'. Tonight - they don't resist me. They open the door and offer me chocolate. Chocolate shaped like little demons. I eat it all up. 

I know - don't start. There are some that belong to you and they know the power they have, but most of them don't. They don't have the first clue. They don't realise they need power, I don't think. While they think it's all harmless fun, I'm doing fine.

Trouble comes when they know the dark for what it is - that's when I come unstuck. When the light penetrates the darkness, then it gets uncomfortable. When every dark and cobwebbed corner is lit up like a Christmas tree -yes, I know what I said - that's when I'd rather just creep back under my stone. 

I like easy prey. It's like the car with the immobiliser to a car thief. Struggle to take that one, or the one in front, with the door unlocked and the keys in the ignition? Easy all the way. That house, they love you, sadly, I'll give it a miss; this one here there's a rotting corpse by the door and 'blood' on the driveway and they're just waiting with open arms to welcome me home.

Do I really get a chance to find a way in, you know, a real way into their lives where I get to stay after Halloween? Well, don't underestimate me. You'd be surprised. Well, you wouldn't, but they would. Give me an inch and I'll take a mile. I'll take whatever I can get.

Don't send the light. Please? Let them have their little games. Leave them alone for once, will you? Give me a break. It's all just harmless fun. I don't like it when you have them carve a pumpkin with little hearts for eyes and one of your crosses for a nose and big smiles. I don't like it when they pray at these parties. When they look upwards instead of downwards. I don't like it when they keep their kids close to them and sign them with your blessed sign instead of dripping blood. 

In the name of all that's holy.

I like it dark and I like mess. I like fear and screams and trembling. They think it's just a thrill but I Am Right There. 

And when they point at the Christians who complain about the bodies in Tesco and Sainsbury? When they say they're over-reacting and they should just chill out and have a bit of fun? Oh yes. Love it. 

It's getting dark. It'll soon be time. Just stay out of it, will you? 

The battle of good and evil continues, and tonight... 

It's the Night of the Dead. For the lost. It's time for Me. I shall make the most of it.

Come on in. We've got witches in the kitchen, zombies in the hall, demons in the living room and all manner of depravity in the conservatory. All this and nibbles too!

Heh heh heh. I know, they're only kids. It's just a bit of fun. Don't the adults know better?

I hope not. 

You'll never walk alone

Thankyou-thankyou-thankyou.

I'm smiling.

Lord God, today we took the girls to see Joseph and his Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat at the theatre and it was such a treat to watch them singing away and dancing to the encore songs at the end. Katy was getting very much involved in the story - she looked at me with big wide eyes when Joseph is dragged off to prison after his run in with Potiphar's wife.  'But he didn't do anything, Mummy! It's not fair!' and then, emphatically with a pointy finger, 'She is a bad lady'.

I love the way that they don't do anything by halves, my children. They are either uninterested or totally immersed. Lizzie almost let her interval ice cream melt because she was so absorbed in Pharoah's song. It was wonderful. Great tunes, dancing, singing, colours; a real spectacle. And a treat at a little town like ours that rarely gets the big shows. 

I love that my girls favourite story of all time is a Bible story. I love that I know the story of Jacob and his sons and the story of the dreamer who came good. I love that I can say to the children, 'Yes, it's a true story; it's in the Bible', though whether Pharaoh was an Elvis Presley lookalike only you will know. I think it'd be great if someone wrote a catchy musical about the rest of the Bible. Let's all sing along.

Most of all I love that we all went to see this wonderful bit of entertainment together. Mum sat in the middle (as Grandma was Highly Favoured by small people) today, and Bryan and I flanked the girls and exchanged proud glances when they started joining in with such enthusiasm. We all clapped along and joined in the choruses at the end and it was one of those freeze-frame moments that I need to pin down and remember. 

It's been a good day. Morning spent behind the counter of the coffee shop in the church centre as the local Food Fair took place which is always good fun. We are so much more efficient than the day we opened when the Archbishop of Canterbury came for tea and a date slice (Living Stones and Cappucinos). I love it when it all comes together and the cafe runs smoothly and people get their coffee quickly with the right amount of froth. Afternoon at the theatre watching the show and watching my little girls faces light up with joy.

Now it's the FA Cup Final and Bryan is hoping that Liverpool might win the football. Hmm. 

Well, we might have to settle for success in the morning and the afternoon and not so much the evening.  But who knows? The Reds might prevail. 

I'm not too worried about the football. I'm going to get the girls' tea ready in a minute so I'll miss the kickoff. What I wanted to do right now was to sit down for a few minutes and check in with you.

Today has been a smiley sort of day and I wanted to say thank you. Thankyou for fun and coffee and company. For Bible stories and music and football teams.

I know that all that is good comes from you. Without you there would be no companionship or achievement or laughter or song. There would be no celebration or excitement or fun. 

I noticed. I've been taking it all in. 

I want to look away from it all for a moment; away from my family and the songs and the cheerful optimism in my living room right now as we watch Bryan's home town football team square up to the other team like David before Goliath. Just look away from all that towards you with a smile. These may look like simple pleasures but I know better. They are little moments to treasure.

Liverpool Football Club's anthem is a song called 'You'll Never Walk Alone', though fans come and go. If they win today they'll have a lot more fans than if they lose.

Me? I never walk alone either. Win or lose, you are with me. 

Thankyou. 

Family, fun, food and festivities. And turkey.

Thankyou, God.

What a lovely Christmas it's been. A few wonderful smiley days full of family, food and fun and it's been noisy and tiring and very happy.  I didn't want it to end. 

Christmas this year had all the components that make an occasion memorable. We were up early but not frighteningly early on Christmas day and the children opened their stockings and we saw the beautiful sunrise that was a special present from you. We played Christmas music and had breakfast and went to church and we celebrated the baby born in a stable in Bethlehem two thousand years ago. We lifted our Happy Birthday to you in carols and songs and prayers and fantastic organ music.

Christmas dinner made the table groan; Kevin the Turkey did us proud - a feast indeed. We set fire to the cognac on the Christmas pudding and pulled crackers and wore party hats and the children argued over the little plastic presents (Katy was most put out that her cracker present was a set of screwdrivers. She eventually negotiated a swap with Grandma who had a plastic gonk on a spring. I'm not sure that Grandma was particularly thrilled with the set of screwdrivers but she put a brave face on it). 

Presents, games, drinks, twinkly Christmas tree lights, laughter and thanks and smiles and mountains of wrapping paper. It was a wonderful day and I know how blessed we are. I know how much we have when so many have so little. I'm very, very grateful.

What I've loved most about this Christmas was that we had fun. We were all together and we played games and laughed and we enjoyed ourselves. I like that it was about people. I like it that you were here amongst us. Not everyone sitting round the table invited you but I did, and you came for me and I appreciate it. I know so many people would have been sitting round similar tables in dining rooms all over our country and I know that we were blessed to get on so well with each other, to have so much fun and to enjoy each other's company as we did. I have a great family. 

I've loved watching the children's faces as they opened presents and I'm thankful that they actually seemed to be excited with each one rather than shredding the wrappings and then dropping the gift to ask for another as we've had on occasion, to my embarrassment. We've spent time setting up racing tracks for matchbox cars (just like we did when I was small - some things never change!) and I've loved watching Elizabeth carry her doll round and feed it with the toy bottle with a special kind of tenderness. A fleeting sort of tenderness, granted, as she then dropped the doll on it's head when she saw that another game was being set up.

It's been lovely. I wish our family lived closer to us so that we could see them more often, but then perhaps it wouldn't be so special. Thankyou for the way that the children are getting on better and better as they grow up a bit. Elizabeth is in awe of her nine year old cousin and it's been a great way of getting her to try new items on her plate at mealtimes - if he likes it, then the chances are that Lizzie will too! The children have been tired out at bedtime, slept well and not been up too early in the mornings.

Thankyou, Father, for the many many blessings this Christmas. Thankyou for all of it, from the stockings and the sunrise to the fun and laughter. For family and good health and plenty to eat and the excitement and joy of the children. It hasn't gone unnoticed that you gave us so much to enjoy.

Thankyou. 

Swimsuits and candyfloss

Afternoon, Lord. 

I am here right now to tell you how wonderful my girls are. A few things have happened over the last few weeks and I've noticed that there's a theme developing, and that theme is How Wonderful My Girls Are. 

I guess you knew that, because you made them that way. I'm not saying that they can't be incredibly annoying at times (and I'm sure you know that as well; and how frustrated I can get as well) but they have such a capacity to delight me that I wanted to say thank you. 

A few weeks ago they entered a swimming gala. They are both still learning to swim and they're in different classes on a Saturday morning but with the same teacher. Katy has her lesson from 9.30 until 10.00 and then Elizabeth from 10.30-11.00 which means (including getting changed and back again) nearly two hours in the swimming pool each week; a headache-inducing prospect and no mistake). They both love their lessons and they love going to the pool with me as well. Elizabeth has an athletic build and takes to any new physical challenge instantly and Katy is a tad less co-ordinated and is more cautious when it comes to sports, but they both love swimming. The swimming club annual gala has some races for the Learner groups and they were both encouraged to enter. To start with we thought that it was alright for Lizzie, who is a confident swimmer and loves competitions, but perhaps it wasn't right for Kate. Her teacher thought otherwise and it was with considerable reservations that we entered her. And then only for one race instead of two.

It was just lovely. 

Elizabeth, fiercely competitive and remembering everything she'd been taught, won both her front-stroke and backstroke races and got better times than the winners of the older groups (and the boys, which went down pretty well). Katy came fourth in her front-stroke race and loved it so much that she threatened a meltdown if we didn't beseech the organiser to enter her belatedly into another race as well. We did, he did, and she (ahem) brought up the rear in her backstroke, but she reached the side with a broad grin and wanted to keep on going. The ladies doing the time-keeping commented on how smiley she was. She just enjoyed the swimming. Yes, she understood that she came last but she had the wonderful, enviable ability to enjoy just taking part.  It was great to watch. Both of them will get medals for being part of the event, which is nice. I was so proud of them. 

The other day we took the girls to a Garden of Light evening at a park in town; lots of fairy lights and a lantern parade, a miniature train-ride and a funfair and all the bits that go with it. Candy floss, light sabres with flashing colours, luminous this and that and then at the end of the evening, fireworks. The girls were so excited that for the preceding four hours they had been literally clock watching and by the time we arrived they were jumping around all over. We went on the little train, we watched the band lead the parade, we saw the fire-eaters and we ate candy floss. The best bit of the night was watching my lovely girls on a tiny train on the fairground ringing a bell as they passed us each time round. Ding ding. Big, big smiles. Also, we got to accompany them on the big, grown-up carousel which was very special as I got to cuddle Katy on my horse while Bryan held on tight to Elizabeth on his; just so they didn't fall off, you understand. Jolly music. Big, big smiles. 

Just fun. Being up later than their bedtime, bright lights, sugar and rides. No worries about safety, finances, ill health or what anybody thinks. Just fun for fun's sake. And when we got home they went straight to sleep, which was a mammoth bonus. 

I look at my children and things seem much more simple. I know that life is much simpler for them, and that we must all grow up, but I wonder how often we complicate things that don't need complicating. How often I do, at least. Some things are just simple.  It's nice to see bright, pretty lights in the darkness.  It's nice to hear a band playing a happy tune. It's nice to have a ride on a beautifully lit vintage-style carousel just to go up and down and round and round and laugh and cuddle up to your small daughters. It's nice to forget the tooth decay and eat candy floss once in a while. 

It would be nice to take part in something without the worry of coming last. I wonder if Katy could possible explain to me how she does that. It would be great to be able to focus on the joy of the moment without wondering about possible implications; what people think. What conclusions might be drawn by my actions. To celebrate, enjoy, experience something without the complications. 

I think I can learn a lot from my children. I should learn a lot from them. The things that come naturally to them are so alien to me these days. I am so self-conscious, so inhibited. Everything has strings attached for me. 

I must think about this some more. But I wanted to say thank you, Lord. Thanks for the beauty of the park lit with coloured lights, the funfair, the music, the candy floss and the pure joy on my girls' faces on the rides. Thankyou that it mattered not a tiny bit to Katy that she was last in the swimming contest but she just loved being a part of it. Thankyou that Elizabeth tried her best and did so well at something that she loves and works hard at. 

And most of all thank you that you've given these beautiful, complicated, straightforward little creatures to me to look after. I love them so much that I feel as if I might explode. Thankyou that raising children is the hardest, most frustrating, time consuming, challenging, annoying, most wonderful, heart-warming, rewarding, joyful job that anyone could have. 

And I'm going to finish this now before I go ahead and try to get them in and out of the bath, in pyjamas and in bed without screeching at them in a little while. 

I'm going to hold that thought.