06/22/2025
When my youngest daughter came to us through foster care at age five, Halloween brought more fear than excitement. I didn’t understand at first, but when I asked her and her older sister about it, they told me a heartbreaking story—one that still stops me in my tracks.
On Halloween in their past home, they were given candy… but it was taken away. The adult made them watch while it was eaten. And when they cried, they were handed the empty candy wrappers and told to eat those.
I knew then that our first Halloween together had to be different. That trust had to be earned, not assumed. So as they walked from house to house, dressed in their adorable costumes and quietly counting each candy piece, I made a plan.
We came home, and I brought out two plastic bags and a pen.
“Let’s count and label your candy,” I told them.
Night after night, they counted. We updated labels. We didn’t eat a single piece without making sure they knew it was safe, theirs, and untouchable by anyone else.
That was 2014.
Today, they’re thriving. But the memory of that Halloween never fully leaves them.
Just last night, while cleaning up after dinner, I watched my youngest search through the pantry. She had a bag of candy from a Halloween event. She wrapped it in paper—clearly a gift—and handed it to me with so much pride.
On the outside, in her third-grade handwriting, were the words:
“Mom, I want to show you how much I love you by sharing my candy.”
Not leftovers. Not the pieces she didn’t want.
She filled the bag with her favorite things… and gave them to me.
That moment nearly broke me—in the most beautiful way.
Because when someone gives out of pain, not abundance, that gift carries a weight beyond measure.
So here’s the challenge—for all of us:
What pain in your life can be turned into light for someone else?
Just like my daughter did, can we offer the best of what we have—not because it’s easy, but because it’s meaningful?
Let’s be bold enough to transform our hurt into hope.
Because real love looks like a little girl offering candy with a full heart and a healed soul.
Credit to the rightful owner, Amy Beth Gardner — this story is being shared, not owned