stories

Bed time is such an important time for young children. Over the years, our good-night routine has evolved and changed. I started by singing songs to Areli, Cole, and Cadin as they lay in their beds in their darkened room. I think I enjoyed the peaceful melodies even more than they did.

Then I heard that if you read poetry to young children, they will grow up to be poets. Who was I to hinder their writing careers, so poetry reading became the norm. My favorites were always from A Child’s Garden of Verses by Robert Louis Stevenson. I must admit that none of them enjoy writing poetry now as teenagers, but perhaps someday they will hear one of those familiar rhymes and be taken back to a sweet childhood memory.

More babies came and Areli, Cole, and Cadin didn’t command as much of my attention at bed time anymore. They would read to themselves in their beds, followed by music or books on CD. Sometimes this was great! Other times, not so much. I would find out later that a particular child would be frightened by a certain story, usually something that I wouldn’t have expected. Other times, Cole would be bothered by the noise while he was trying to sleep. Areli was such a creature of habit, that she couldn’t fall asleep without the tape or CD on. She would pull the tape player over to her bed, turn the volume down, and listen to it under her pillow.

Once Areli came to me late in the evening. I had put a lullaby CD on for her at bedtime and thought she was sleeping. She was crying and shaking and said that the songs made her sad. She has no idea why, but she dislikes lullabies to this day. I discontinued the practice of leaving them alone with a CD at night and favored listening to stories all together at lunchtime. Then I could talk about the story with the children and understand how each one felt about each book. We had some wonderful times listening to all the Chronicles of Narnia, Little Women, and even Jane Eyre.

Areli, Cole, and Cadin grew big enough that they didn’t need someone to tuck them in at night. It was now Ashlyn, Chai, Cooper, and Calvin’s turn. I found Uncle Arthur’s Bedtime stories published in 1951. This book was full of short stories; each one was true and contained an important life lesson or moral. I loved these stories!

Other times I would ask them to share what they enjoyed most about their day. Then we would take turns praying.

I am a natural storyteller, so it is funny that it took me 17 years into my mothering career before I started telling bedtime stories. In fact, storytelling is in my blood. My Papa used to delight my brother and I with his bedtime stories about a tiny but feisty girl named Squeegee. She was so little that she could crawl through a Cheerio. She had a pet mosquito name Quito who she rode like a horse. I always begged Papa for Indian stories. His voice would transport us to a remote Indian village where I was transformed into an Indian princess and my brother, Jason was a young brave. Of course, Squeegee was always there too.

I loved those stories, and we still have some of them preserved on cassette tapes. It is strange that I never thought of telling bedtime stories of my own…until now.

It was Courage Justice who started it.

He wanted a bedtime story, so I began a yarn about the first thing that popped into my head…gummy bears. More and more details spilled out of my mouth until I had a whole cast of characters (four special gummy bears and their friends, Cooper, Calvin, and Courage). The adventures would be something little boys would enjoy, and I received plenty of suggestions and help from the three young boys themselves.

They would take trips to Venice in a rocket ship. They would visit their grandparents in Colorado where they splashed in Uncle Wilber (those of you from Colorado Springs will understand), climb mountains, and parachute from planes. The gummy bears found tiny sombreros and toured the southwest with a Mariachi band. This led to an appearance on Good Morning America and a trip to Walt Disney World where the gummy bears and the boys dressed up as dwarfs and took part in a parade.

We just finished talking about the summer they all spent in Texas on Hank’s Cattle Ranch learning to be Cowboys. The four gummy bears spent most of their time enjoying the view from Courage’s cowboy hat. Sometimes they had to take it easy UNDER Courage’s cowboy hat because they realized that too much sun made them squishy and too much rain made them melt.

The five-day cattle drive was hard, but they met a lot of new friends along the way. Who could forget the turquoise lizard that wanted to travel along in Cooper’s saddle bag or the dragonfly, Zip who became Calvin’s pet? They also enjoyed a pow-wow at an Indian village and had quite a shopping spree with all the money they earned after the cattle were auctioned off. Each boy had to buy their mom a special present, of course. I must admit, I was hoping for some Native American jewelry or maybe even my own horse. Courage was quite proud when he announced that he had purchased for me… a toothbrush. Oh well! I do love to brush my teeth!

Courage enjoyed these nighttime stories so much, that he began coming to me many times a day.

“Tell me a gummy bear sto-whee!” he would say.

I wasn’t always available to snuggle with him and tell a story, so the older children would begin to continue the adventure with their own stories.

It is amazing how these stories take on a life of their own and transport all who listen to a magical place. I enjoy all the adventures that I have had with Cooper, Calvin, Courage, and the gummy bears.

I do not recommend that you allow your children to eat gummy bears. They are bad for you in about 10 different ways. But they are also our friends, and we do not eat our friends, do we?

I do highly recommend them as traveling companions into the imagination of a child…and then into peaceful landscape of dreamland. If all the gummy bears are unavailable, you could try looking up a tiny woman who is known for her courageous spirit. She is in her 40s now, but still young at heart and up for a good bedtime adventure!

I had just written the rough draft of my last article about the passing of my neighbor, Sandy. I had a heavy heart, feeling that I had failed God and failed Sandy. Writing the article had evoked deep emotions in me, and I was still trying to sort them all out. It was a dark Wednesday night, and I was attending a meeting for those helping with the annual Women’s Breakfast at my church.

The women’s ministry at Life Center is always planning lovely events. The goal is that every woman who attends would experience a special touch from God and hear his voice personally. Each time there is a creative way to give a personalized, encouraging word to every woman. There have been ribbons, medals, bracelets, necklaces, compasses, mugs, purses, and book marks given out. The item contains some sort of message (such as a scripture verse, a single word, or phrase) and has been prayed over. Every one of the gifts that I have received over the years has been special to me. The scripture that I received at the Women’s Conference last March sustained my faith through the events of the past year.

At the meeting, each of us got to pick a coffee sleeve with something special written on it. I randomly picked a sleeve that had “Matthew 10:42” nicely hand written in black pen. I looked up the scripture on my phone and it read:

“And if anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones who is my disciple, truly I tell you, that person will certainly not lose their reward.”

I thought, “Oh that is nice. I certainly give out lots of cups of water to my children.”

But then a new thought broke into my own, with a brilliance that I have come to recognize as the Holy Spirit.

It was a thought of Sandy and the times I brought her soup. God was telling me that I would have a reward for the small acts of kindness I had done for her! I felt so humbled and in awe of a God that would reward me even though I had fallen short of my goal of introducing Sandy to Jesus.

What a good and generous God I have!!!!

The next day I got into my van to drive to the grocery store. I turned on the New Testament CD that was already in the CD player. And guess where the CD started that day?

Matthew 10:42

That Saturday was the day of the Women’s Breakfast. I arrived early to welcome women to the table I was hosting. I was praying that everyone would feel loved and blessed. I encouraged each woman to pick a coffee sleeve when they went to get their coffee or hot cocoa. I had the opportunity to pick a second one for myself. When I read the words, again I wanted to cry! My heart was so full of the goodness of God.

“Writing a New Chapter”

I love to write and have been working on this blog for a year and a half now. I would love to write a book someday…lots of books in fact! But I tell myself that it doesn’t matter if anyone else notices or even likes my writing. I am doing it for myself and my children, so we never forget the marvelous things God has done for us. Sometimes I feel rather silly, spending so much time writing down the little details of my life. Yet I feel the words are like fire in my bones that won’t let me go until I write them down.

Here God was telling me that the writing was from him! And that I would be writing about a new chapter. Our lives could sure use a new beginning!

This “word from God” was confirmed a few weeks later in a most unusual way. Each year I choose a foreign country to study at Christmas time. When all of my children were homeschooled, we would take a break from the normal school and learn about this country. Then we would incorporate the Christmas traditions and food of this country into our own holiday celebration. We have studied Sweden, Germany, Russia, Spain, and Italy. Each year, one of the resources we used was the World Book series on Christmas around the World. The books always contained interesting facts but were very dry reading.

This year, even though I am only homeschooling my special needs daughter, I chose Ireland. I just love to learn about other countries so much, I couldn’t give up the tradition. As I read the first few pages of the World Book called Christmas on the Emerald Isle, I was struck by the emotion and passion in the writing.

“On Christmas night, there is another custom – the telling of stories. The oldest member of the family gathers everyone around the hearth or table and recounts the story of Mary and Joseph. The tales, of course, don’t stop at Bethlehem. There are yarns about the family, about the famine, about the great heroes and villains of Irish history…While the Swedes have 25 versions of the Cinderella story, the Irish have 311 and are still counting. Christmas night is not, or course, the only appropriate time for storytelling. Any occasion will do, and the Irish have a story for any and every occasion, for every event of life…By extracting the meaning from every event of life and turning that understanding into a parable, the Irish preserved their culture and taught their children a sense of history, justice, and identity.”

My heart burned within me as I read these words. That is what I wanted to do! I felt that God was saying that my passion to write was there for a reason…because he had put it there.

It went on to say, “If life was short and bitter, the memory of that life was not. Filled with victory and joy, the memory became a living thread that passed through the consciousness of generations of Irish men and women. As long as the stories survived, the lives and events that inspired them survived and had meaning.”

I must have a bit of the Irish in me… and in the midst of trouble and sorrow, the goodness of God keeps overwhelming me…and giving me stories that I just have to tell!