In fact, one of my favorite childhood pastimes was flipping through a kids' Halloween cookbook that showed you how to make zombie pigs in a blanket and creepy-crawly gummy worm punch. (The punch was harder to create than it looked. I could never nail the visual aesthetic.) Of course, my Bible-believing family never once pursued the dark parts of the holiday. We spent most of our time visiting our local church's trunk-or-treat or snagging expensive candy from my grandmother, yet I celebrated Halloween in ignorant innocence. Nothing more, nothing less. But, now that my son is here, ignorance isn't acceptable. My husband and I decide what will and won't be celebrated in our home. Our decisions shape an innocent life's worldview. That's a heavy responsibility. A really heavy responsibility. To be honest, for the past few weeks, the idea of celebrating Halloween has left my spirit feeling uneasy—not in a spooky way but with a sense of pause and caution.
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