Ah, Freeman House. The local spook place... the neighborhood haunt. Kids for miles around are scared of her. Adults for miles around are wary of her. So much history... so much mystery... tied up in this old place. What is it with this house? people ask. It really leaves an impression, doesn't it?
It does. The impressions are different, but it certainly does.
This week has been insanely busy. (Think I slept two hours last night.) And kids from miles around will be coming to Freeman House this weekend for a good old-fashioned scare and a simultaneous lesson in Romans 6:23. Should be fun. I've worried for weeks... worried that it won't be scary enough... worried that it will be too scary. Worried that people won't come and worried that crowds will come. Today I finally decided to relax and enjoy it. Not everyone, after all, has such a fun opportunity to welcome so many kids into a cool, safe environment. Not to mention the 23 folks that are scheduled to help....
So I'm covered up in black lights and glow-in-the-dark paint and gray wigs and robed costumes and praying that I make it through the weekend. Surely we'll make it through the weekend.
If not, you know where to find me. I'm in the spooky house on Jefferson Street. Just follow the signs. Or better yet, ask someone. They all know. -Brin