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My 7-year-old daughter has been more intrigued with the arrival of Halloween this year, venturing outside the realm of the pretty and sparkly princess genre of costumes into costumes more, decidedly, well, spooky.

On one hand, I am intrigued and in awe of her developing sense of courage.  By engaging a bit with the spooky, she’s taking another step toward eventual adulthood, embodying the saying that courage isn’t the absence of fear but the decision to go on even in spite of it.  For this maturing that has happened in the past year, I am grateful.

On the other hand, her newfound courage came with a desire to head to our community’s local haunted house – the degree of creepiness with which I wasn’t familiar.  Still, I knew that no amount of discouraging on my part would change her mind.  She had opted for a big-girl costume and assured me that this year, she wasn’t afraid.

Against my better judgment, off we went, with Grandma safely watching our littles at home.  As we approached the haunted house, we encountered a couple of monsters strategically placed in the parking lot, and each time, my sweet, brave girl would say out loud, “Oh, that’s just a mask and makeup,” or something similar, calling out the monsters each time and reassuring herself before continuing.  While I had my misgivings, admittedly, I was proud of her courage to call it like she saw it in this unfamiliar setting.

We paid our admission fee and went in, only to be escorted to a waiting area, an eerily lit room of chairs, with a spiderweb-draped mini organ flanked by wall sconces along one wall and a coffin as the focal point at the front of the room.  Interestingly enough, there was a cross on the wall next to the coffin, and as we waited (apparently the actors were all on a 5-minute break), my sweet girl and I pondered just what meaning a cross might have in such a room of a haunted house.

And then it was our turn, yet another bloody-looking actor who suddenly-appeared informed us before escorting escorted us down the haunted house’s first hallway.

My daughter didn’t see the first spooky moment coming; a cleverly placed piece of plexiglass in the floor that, when we walked on it, was illuminated by a strobe light and a most ghoulish-looking actor underneath, banging and screaming.  We got a step or two further with moans and creepy lighting, and she jumped in my arms, saying that she needed out.  Now.

We did an about face and ran out the entrance, where the well-meaning guide tried to cajole her into returning, saying how proud she’d be if she made it through.  The well-meaning guide got quite the earful from the protective mama when I informed her that I supported my daughter’s intuition – if her gut said a situation wasn’t right, I’d do everything in my power to help her find safety.

As we returned to our car, the role of the previously seen monsters in the parking lot suddenly became clear as the scariest – a huge, lumbering, moaning beast of some sort began to follow us to our car.  I made what I thought was eye contact and began vigorously shaking my head, trying to communicate that the “fun line” had been crossed, and he needed to go trail someone else.

And then he continued toward us.

I tried again, this time using my words, telling him to go away, that I was escorting a scare 7-year-old, and he wasn’t welcome.  He halted, but didn’t retreat.

I told him if he came any closer, I would hurt him, and I scooped my daughter and started to run for our car. He got the point, turned around, and lumbered on toward another family heading toward the parking lot.

I’ve since learned that it’s likely he thought if he stayed still where he was that my daughter might be reassured and be okay with interacting with him; the actors aren’t totally ignorant of the needs of scared children.

That said – I had no clue who he was, if he was a part of the organized activity, or what his knowledge of children’s fearful responses was.

I do know the love and gratitude in my daughter’s voice as we made it safely to our waiting SUV, as she snuggled in close to my ear and said, “but Mom, you’re not suppose to run and carry me when you’re pregnant.”

It was safe to put her down and look in her eyes at that point, and the first words out of my mouth were, “I will never let anyone hurt you, not even a monster, no matter how pregnant I am.”

Sadly, we are coming to the time where I must tell her that there are real monsters, and that while I will do everything in my power to protect her, she too must be wary, vigilant, on guard.

It should be every child’s birthright to feel as protected as my sweet girl did when she jumped in my arms and we ran to a place of safety. And yet – so many do not.

In that moment of confronting the monster, my heart was broken for the girls who don’t have someone to help them call out the monsters who would abuse them, exploit them, and enslave them.

I’ve recently been doing some volunteer work with an organization called Courage to be You, a nonprofit organization building safe homes for girls rescued from sex trafficking.   In a number of ways, God seems to be bringing my attention to the issue of sex trafficking, little by little opening my eyes not only to the issue, but to the dignity and worth of these girls in need of safe places to experience the healing and freedom he can give them.

A few too many moments in a haunted house.  An escort pushing my daughter to ignore her intuitive fear and go farther than she was comfortable.  A monster who just wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Suddenly I was seeing girls who are in a truly haunted house, entrapped in forced prostitution, threatened with violence to themselves or their loved ones if they attempt escape.  Entrapped by drugs, trying to mask the pain of sexual abuse.  Perpetrators who falsify the appearance of friendship and protection only to enslave girls who are vulnerable.  Monsters who would rape underage girls.

In the relief of keeping my own daughter safe from harm, my heart was broken for these girls, and I wept.

Every child deserves to have family to love and protect them, who will call out the monsters, and when necessary, who will do what it takes to keep them physically, emotionally, and spiritually safe.

Does this issue touch your heart like it is capturing mine?  Find out how you can make a difference too, at Courage to be You.

Be blessed – and safe,

Pauline