This is a post from a blog I created last year, but I feel it’s timely and worth re-posting.
People say that one of the great things about Halloween is that, unlike other holidays, there is no deeper meaning to be honored. If Halloween were a friend of yours, it would be the friend who is immature, playful and always up for a good time. I am not this friend, as it turns out. I was never up for “Class Clown” or “Biggest Partier” in my high school year-book polls. However, I did sweep “Most Stressed-out” and “Always Eating” which means that Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday—it’s all about the food, no gift-giving or other anxiety-producing activity involved.
So it struck me last night when I had quite a meaningful Halloween experience. I was at my regular every-other-Thursday gig, volunteering for a group that works with families who have lost a parent. Together with a few other volunteers, I hang out with second, third and fourth graders, playing games, doing crafts, and talking about whatever is on their minds. It’s an essential part of my life: two hours that are completely not about me. Apart from setting some rules and keeping things safe, the kids drive the agenda.
Last night, we brought in some foam pumpkins to see if they wanted to do a little Halloween activity making jack-o-lanterns. The kids were super-jazzed about the idea. I was elected “master carver” and each child brought his or her pumpkin over to me. I asked them questions to allow them to direct the design process.
“Do you want teeth? A tongue? Is this a happy jack-o-lantern or a scary jack-o-lantern? What should the nose look like?”
There is nothing in my daily life that can compare to the happiness I felt seeing these kids’ faces beam with excitement and satisfaction. They clapped their hands and leapt into the seat next to me, seeking the best angle to watch as their creation came to life.
We had several new families in our group that night, so one of the other group facilitators asked the kids, “Are you having fun?”
“Yes!” They cheered in unison. One little girl said, “This is the best night of my life.” Her father had passed away a couple of years earlier and he had been the head pumpkin-carver in their family. Halloween just wasn’t the same anymore. We knew that holidays could be hard for families experiencing a loss, especially Thanksgiving and Christmas. But we had failed to consider the impact that missing a parent on Halloween, one of the most important holidays for kids, could have on them.
As the kids worked away, gluing foam vegetables onto the pumpkins as ears, eyes and noses, we talked about our favorite candy, what we were going to dress up as this year, and the best costumes we’d ever seen. We praised the kids for their creativity and they glowed brighter than the pumpkins in the attention.
Afterwards, one of the facilitators read a story about a little boy whose cat died. I sat apart from the group finishing the carving, and watched as they lay on a sea of huge pillows and stuffed animals, unintentionally snuggled up to one another. I thought, if Halloween has a meaning, this must be it.
1 Comment
October 18, 2007 at 8:56 pm
Oh, my goodness. That was a huge tear-jerker! God bless you for spending time with those families.