Mr. S. had a brilliant trick-or-treating-related idea a few days before Halloween. We should buy a massive, king-size candy bar, he suggested, to give to our 100th trick-or-treater.
Big candy bars? I’m always in. Big chocolate takes no convincing.
Firmly planted in a neighborhood, and no longer apartment-dwellers, we had no idea how many little ghosts and princesses and skeletons to expect. We don’t know our new community very well yet, but I wanted to be prepared . . . and so I bought altogether too much Halloween candy. Like I said, with the intention of being prepared.
5, 5:30, 6 and 6:30 pm came and went. Zero trick-or-treaters and a full bowl of candy. Too much candy = First world problems, sure. But I was disappointed. Where were the kiddos? Where were these little pirates and cheerleaders and draculas?
6:36, we heard a knock on the door. And instead of trick or treater #100, we gave the king-size Hershey bar to trick or treater #1.
It was instinct. I did no philosophical plus-and-minus, no fairness analysis or anything.
“You’re awesome,” he said. (Can’t argue with you there, kid.)
But really, he has no idea how he made my day. Giving him that huge chocolate bar was really our privilege, our joy. In this case, to be generous was to share in a tiny slice of the human experience.
Maybe that’s what it means to connect, in a way. Give generously, love big, give out the crazy-big candy bars to the first kid who shows up. Life is just so much better that way.
And in other news, this is post #200! Thank you, friends, for showing up and reading and rallying and building community. So much love to every one of you.