It’s that time of year when an evening walk through the neighborhood elicits a dozen jumpscares. Around every corner is an eerie ghost hanging from low branches, yards decked out in cemetery decor, looming skeletons, and plastic zombies. I didn’t grow up celebrating Halloween, and the holiday still feels rather foreign to me as someone whose idea of a Happy Halloween was a “Jesus Loves You Party,” Christian songs sung around a bonfire with an acoustic guitar, and Bible costumes. I don’t begrudge a lack of trick-or-treating. I chuckle about it now, how divided Christians were surrounding the non-essential question:
This is so good! My little writing group read Culture Care and we talk a lot about being border walkers in the way we write.