I was reading about the curse from the fall in Genesis of all days: Good Friday.

The “..thorns and thistles…” just popped out at me. Probably, because it was Good Friday and Jesus wearing the crown of thorns on His head was already the visual of the day.

“…and then [they] twisted together a crown of thorns and set it on his head…” Matthew 27:29

I just felt like there was this mirroring moment here.

I wasn’t planning to jump to this part of Eve’s story next, but somehow it felt symbolic and so appropriate and suddenly ‘a flip of the coin.’

From the thorns that possibly bore her down, Christ would wear one day as a crown.

From the cry of Jesus on the cross, “My God, my God why have you forsaken me?”

Perhaps Eve cried out herself, “My God, my God I have forsaken you!”

BACK STORY FOR THIS MONOLOGUE

In this monologue I wanted to explore Eve’s first encounter with frustration. Her first day feeling the world is against her. We all know that feeling. We’ve all had those days. But, what was it like to go from the perfect beautiful loving presence of God to that first “the whole world is against me” type of day.

A week ago I was cutting back weeds and some overgrown thorny vines. And they kept clinging to my clothes and poking into my skin. And, it was really annoying. Yet, I had garden sheers. It was just a few cuts. I could take a break. But I started to wonder what this was like for Eve, her first encounter with thorns, not just one, but a whole field of them. Getting stuck and cut, having nothing but her bare hands, suddenly trapped, feeling the first taste of toil, sweat, and hardship.

And you know those moments where there is so much you are holding in but something just breaks it all open. Like your coffee spills and you break down, but it’s not about the coffee, it’s about so much more. That’s the spot I envision her at here.

MONOLOGUE

EVE

So we stepped away. And took that first step forward. Our Exodus. From freedom. To.

To cursed ground. That I now stood on. And I felt the curse under my feet and the sudden hardening of the earth below—it even gave out a groan.

And I saw the thorns and thistles grow, grow, swiftly grow. Extraordinarily. Almost magically. Supernaturally. Miracu lous ly.

And as I looked across the vast desolate place I now knew the world was against me—everything now my enemy.

And, I’m not being dramatic.

It doesn’t matter how much light there is around you, you only need an ounce of decay. A sliver of death. A pea size of hate. Shifts everything. The contrast. The Disparity! And you would know if you ever lived like I had once lived.

[Beat.]

Sorry, it sounds like I’m blaming you. Or hate you. I don’t. I don’t even know you, but…

[Beat.]

It was interesting how the garden was proliferating with life, bush layered with branch, orchid with ferns, and the birds and the bugs and the buffaloes layered like art. Full and abundant with life and it felt so free! Fresh! Open!

[Beat.]

But all around now, here, there I was in this vast desolate desert yet, it was wall, after wall, after wall, after wall. Caged. Shackled. Suffocating.

And I stepped forth but was caught by a thorn. Then another. And another. I did not know what a thorn was. So as I pulled it out and it pricked my thumb and it pierced my skin and out came blood.

I gasped in horror. I had only just seen blood once before and I wondered if I was dying right there. Right now. Was this the taste of death before me? This throb of pain. And then another. Thorn. Stuck. Cling in there. And it ripped! My skin! And I bleed some more.

As I tried to pull it out, it pierced my fingers, jab so deep.Thorn after thorn, after thorn. Clung stuck cut.

Another! One there! Impossible! Pricked here! Now there. Another! In a furry I lurched. But cling! Stuck! Cut! Clung stuck cut! Until I finally scream out:

My God my God I have forsaken you!!

[Beat.]

And I collapsed in the midst of these thorns that pierced my skin, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care. I didn’t care.

Thank you for reading and listening. If this piece at all spoke to you, I’d love to know. Please comment below.

Artwork: Morgenthau Plan, Anselm Kiefer

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If you wish to listen to my voice reading this article and performing a dramatized reading of the monologue, click above.

I am currently making my way through Augustine’s City of God. The other day I came across this quote:

If proof be needed how much human nature loves to know and hates to be mistaken, recall that there is not a man who would not rather be sad but sane than glad but mad. —City of God, Saint Augustine, Book XI, Chapter 27

“How much human nature loves to know…”

I couldn’t get that phrase out of my mind.

“How much human nature loves to know…”

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In the pursuit of knowledge—knowing more, being in the knowing—this question arose in me: will more information really satisfy me? And, what is the boundary line, we as Christians, should have when it comes to knowledge? Is there one?

Even the Emperor, from Hans Christian Anderson’s The Emperor’s New Clothes, is befooled by the internal desire that he can know “God-like” information—who is really wise and who is really foolish.1

“If I had a suit made of this magic cloth, I could find out at once what men in my kingdom are not good enough for the positions they hold, and I should be able to tell who are wise and who are foolish.” —The Emperor’s New Clothes by Hans Christian Anderson.

It is humility that allows us to accept: we will not know all things. Not all mysteries have to be explained to us. Yes, God reveals hidden things, but demanding to know, demanding an explanation from God for all the mysteries that mystify us is stubbornly audacious, egotistical, and, dare I say, demonic of us. For is not this concept of knowing all things, good and bad, a proposed idea from the Serpent?

The rest of the week I kept hearing this phrase: how addictive was the serpent’s riddle. I started to imagine Eve, deeply wanting what God did not desire to reveal to her. And that, suddenly became her fixation.

What came forth was this monologue.

EVE

I just. I just, it sounds completely unjustifiable now. Too simple now. But, I just had to know. To know. To know felt better than the aching absence of it. To know sounded saner than this madness of mystery. That’s what I felt, what I thought. This madness of mystery. And this mystery started cutting out a hole in me. Like suddenly, there was a question, I never asked, but now proposed to me. And I wanted to know, to fill this, I can’t believe I am saying this, believed this, this hole. I mean, was I not whole enough? How more complete could I, Eve, walking with God daily, get?

I was. I was whole. I know that now.

[Pause]

What was so shiny, so tempting about the apple?

Oh how beautiful it looked that day. I remember, it held an irresistible, illuminating color, as if all pigment condensed and found its home singularly in that one piece of fruit. Delicious is an understatement.

But when I went back. After it all. For just one last look it was, it was nothing more than all the other fruits. I guess it was just marketed—differently.

Oh, How addictive was the serpent’s riddle.

If only I let it go, if only I could let my heart rest, if only I could settle into the space and place we called home. If only I could settle into not knowing everything.

But just to know there was a knowledge I was left out of knowing. And now that you mention it, why can’t I know? I should be able to know! I have rights! I’m a human. Your beautiful creation. I have the right to know.

So, yes! I thought, I can go and just ask another question. Casually. I’m just going to check. Super quick. Not long. Over here in this corner. I’ll check quickly and then be back to my usual business. But. When I came. It was clear. I Had To Know. The addiction to discovery had attached itself deep within me so all I had to do was bite —and it would fix me.

I’m curious and would love to know

what you think.

• In the pursuit of knowledge: How can we discern when our pursuit is spiritually nourishing and when it’s spiritually corroding?

Please join in the conversation and leave a comment.

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“If I had a suit made of this magic cloth, I could find out at once what men in my kingdom are not good enough for the positions they hold, and I should be able to tell who are wise and who are foolish.”

—The Emperor’s New Clothes by Hans Christian Anderson, adapt by Virginia Lee Burton

Life can get complicated, all too fast.

”…he could not see anything on the looms

for very good reason…nothing was there.”

Positions to upkeep.

People to please.

Power to hold onto.

“Nothing there…he did not know this…

thought only…he be a foolish man…

unfit for the office…”

Now, confused to see clearly,

In a fight to hold onto a self image,

Rather than just looking honestly.

“Dear men,” he said to himself,

”I must never tell anyone

that I could not see the cloth.”

Silence has come to his lips

out of fear of humiliation, demotion,

self-preservation.

“All his followers now strained their eyes

hoping to see something in the looms

but they could see no more than the others.

Nevertheless, they all exclaimed,

”Oh how beautiful!”

Now in preservation of the self, a system,

or group think,

silently they play on.

Suddenly loss of discernment,

For value of other’s seeing,

you delicately hold the trail of

an invisible garment with such poise,

In the middle of a parade,

where everyone can see—

your following naked shame.

Life just got complicated, that fast.

Until, a child blurts out…

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Could it be, Hans Christian Anderson is saying childlike humility is the key to preserving our seeing, discerning, and courage to speak? Could it be Anderson is making a statement about greatness?

Whoever humbles himself like this child…

At that time the disciples came to Jesus, saying, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” ² And calling to him a child, he put him in the midst of them ³ and said, “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. ⁴ Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Matthew 18:1-4

The weavers saw the weak thread in their souls, that would unravel a leader, his surrounding council, a whole town, and leave them all in the palm of their hand.

What was the weak thread?

What stunted these poised, prestigious, accomplished, powerful men: the fear of not being good enough, the unwillingness to look like a fool, and the positions they held onto.

The Fear of not Being Good Enough

The hindrance to our humility is our need for validation, affirmation, and security of our value.

Am I good enough? It’s a question masked as insecurity, but really it’s filled with ego, vanity, self-glory. For the sake of ‘not good enough,’ we muster up layers, badges of good enough that we can pin on our sleeve, promote around us, with hopes to convince, really, just ourselves we are finally ‘good enough.’

But, we are lying to ourselves, that we are something more than we are.

Romans 3: 10-12

There is no one righteous, not even one;

there is no one who understands;

there is no one who seeks God.

All have turned away,

they have together become worthless;

there is no one who does good,

not even one.

This should be the most freeing thing.

It’s already declared in the heavens that we are not good enough. We never were, and never will be. Even as we grow in Christ, we should never leave this humble reality. It’s only Jesus’ mercy, grace, and blessing that has turned us into anything more than wrath destined earthlings.

Whoever humbles himself like a child…

We are only meant to be children (in an older stretched out skin) humbly submitting, following, looking to Jesus’ mercy daily.

Toddlers, babies, little children exhibit this freedom, this ability to not care whether they are good enough. They just try it. I have always loved watching a baby try a new skill. That pure, simple, honest dedication of mastering a new skill. Oh, the practicing and practicing.

Do. Try. Repeat.

There is something about this dedication to practicing, not proving little child exist in: illustrating, for us adults, a simple humble clarity to just be someone who is always growing, learning, becoming.

There is also something about their gaze. The focus on their parents in the learning, in the doing, which too, we can learn from.

When we set our gaze on Christ, with the posture that we are just: children of God, His sheep, His followers I believe His mercy can be heard clearly in our hearts: I see you, you don’t need to prove. You are now good, because of Me.

The Unwillingness to Look like a Fool

The hindrance to our humility is our unwillingness to look foolish. Taking a risk. Speaking up. Standing for a conviction when no one else is: risky, foolish, vulnerable, possibly humiliating.

These men feared looking like a fool. They feared man. The fear of man is rooted in pride, is it not?

Sometimes silence is more a preservation of an image, more stemmed from the fear of man, than a self-controlled, wise intention.

Sometimes silence looks wise, but really it is foolish.

In the face of these truths, the quibbles of the skeptics lose their force. If they say: ‘What if you are mistaken?’—well, if I am mistaken, I am.

—Saint Augustine, The City of God: Book XI, Chapter 26

Whoever humbles himself like this child…

Children like clarity, truth—black and white. Children are direct, truth teller, asking the hard “why” questions. They help us see clearly. Point out injustices easier than us.

“Why does she stay there,” my daughter asked one time on the streets of New York as we passed a homeless woman.

“Does she sleep there all night? Where’s her family? Does she get cold? Is she hungry? Should we help her?”

And, I just wanted to keep moving.

I had learned to ignore the pain and injustice around me and now she was forcing me to confront my: inconsistency, lack of sensitivity, hardened heart, selfish ambition to get where we needed to go. She had revealed my sin, just through her humble, simple childlike questions

I wish I could say I stopped at that moment to connect with that homeless woman. Ask her, her name. Buy her a meal. I didn’t. I didn’t want the awkwardness of the inconvenience. What if it was a sham, and I was mistaken in offering help?

Well, if I am mistaken, I am. My silence was my foolishness. My silence was my ego. My action would have happened if I had had humility.

The Positions they Held

The hindrance to humility is the worship of our positions, our gifts, ourselves. The worship of our accomplishments, creations, abilities, positions, all the qualities that now define modern self, are these vanities: kill our clarity, silence our discernment, and lead us down a foolish parade.

We live in a culture of holding. It’s not a new culture, it has been going on since the beginning of the fall. Very few men, in the Bible or history, wanted to let go of what they created.

Saul wanted to hold onto the throne, as did Caesar, as did all the French Louis’, Harold the Conquer, insert the next name.

Humanity loves to hold. God loves to give away.

Humanity molds a self into something. God, “…rather, he made himself nothing.”

Humanity proves itself through a position. Jesus, “who, being in very nature God…” gave up proving through position, and proved his love through showing up as a baby to a poor, refugee couple and humbly served, suffered, and sat with the lowly.

Whoever humbles himself like a child…

Children don’t need to prove anything. They aren’t holding a position, an image of themselves too highly. Children have no image to uphold, no statement to make, no status to tend to.

Really they don’t get the luxury of that yet.

Children have to tear down their creations every night: they submit to their parents and clean up.

Barbie’s go back in boxes.

Magnet tiles crumble down with one slap and compile in their bins.

Legos, crafts, clothes, dolls, books.

They all get put back each night.

What if submitted to God each night and tore down our creations? It would be tough, frustrating, annoying, and so much work to restart the next morning.

But that might just be what our soul’s need to remain humble.

What if each night God said something like:

Love what you made, love what you are building, it’s really creative, powerful, impactful…but, it’s time to tear it down, put everything back in its proper place, it can’t stay out in the center of the living room forever.

Yeah, it’s great.

Tomorrow you can make another one, I made you to be creative, but we aren’t going to leave this in the center of the living room and dust it every night. Everyone else has to work around it. Turn it into a monument, that slowly becomes praised, and now we are lighting candles around it.

It’s time to clean it up.

“…that we know that we have nothing but what we receive, and bow in deepest humility to wait upon God for it.” —Andrew Murray

Read, Reflect, and Practice

Read

Here is a summary for those who have not read the story, nor choose not to get the book.

In the Emperor’s New Clothes, there is an Emperor who is only obsessed with his clothes. He most often, only adorns himself with beautiful outfits and parades through town rather than tending to the matters of the city.

One day two swindlers come, disguised as amazing weavers, and pitch him on this amazing new fabric. This amazing new fabric is not just absolutely beautiful, it has a magical power to reveal the foolish ones unfit for their positions, and reveal the wise ones. The catch: the fools will not see the garment, the wise ones will.

The vainglorious Emperor loves exterior things so he is easily sold on the proposal. The weavers are given the money they need, their royal work space is set, and they begin invisibly weaving nothing.

And we will find out that although everyone in his court can’t see the garment, their fear of losing their position and being revealed as a fool motivates them to lie, pretend, and play along.

They suggest the Emperor should wear it through town on this next procession. And so he does. And what becomes of the parade? The entire town stays silent, except for: a child.

Now go get the book, and not just read it, but study it.

Reflect

More of these activities are for you, the adults and parents this time, not for your children. However, still read the book to your children and consider interviewing them—they’re the teachers this time.

Interview a child:

• Why do you think it was a child who spoke up?

• What was the child willing to do that the adults weren’t willing to do?

• What can you teach me about being a child?

• What’s something you see in me that could be too adult like?

Journal:

• Have you started taking anything or “position” too seriously, that you can’t see or worse refuse to see the contradictory?

Memorize:

• At that time the disciples came to Jesus, saying, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” ² And calling to him a child, he put him in the midst of them ³ and said, “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. ⁴ Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Matthew 18:1-4

Practice

Do:

• Study your children (or children) this week. What childlike qualities reveal humility?

• Reflect where life has gotten heavy. Where is there too much ‘adulting’ that is keeping you from freedom?

Parenting:

• How are we preserving our children’s child-like ness?

• How are we preserving the qualities that will keep them discerning?

• Encourage the “why” questions, Let them ask and point out the obvious things that we’ve grown a custom to not seeing, ignoring. This is their gift to us. Oh this one stings, this one is so inconvenient, so uncomfortably honest, but oh this is so true!

Study:

• Consider the contrast of these two art pieces: Portrait of Louis XIV by Hyacinthe Riguard and The Hard Lesson by William Adolphe Bouguereau. Personally, I love the honest, clarity of this little girl.

Decorate:

• Perhaps, purchase hydrangeas this week. In the Victorian era, hydrangeas were considered a boastful, vainglorious flower due to its bountiful blooms that were only produced by a few seeds. Extravagant, but no substance. Although they are beautiful, it’s a playful wink to our souls, of what we don’t want to be.

If this post encouraged you, moved you, provoked you. I would love to hear how. Please leave a comment. I would love to build discussion around this topic with you.

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And, thank you for reading.

Vanessa

“For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man observing his natural face in a mirror; for he observes himself, goes away, and immediately forgets what kind of man he was. But he who looks into the perfect law of liberty and continues in it, and is not a forgetful hearer but a doer of the work, this one will be blessed in what he does.” —James‬ ‭1‬:‭22-25 ‭NKJV‬‬

This is a scripture about attention.

I believe James in his most poetic, deep, philosophical moving way is asking: Are you even listening?

How many times have I gazed at my phone, when someone asks me something? I responded with, “yeah, yeah,” only later to realize, I had no idea what they actually said.

How I often read the Bible, like I have a phone in my hand searching for other things. And now I am asking: am I even listening.

I wrote the below piece as somewhat of a lament—aching over my own personal distractions that have captivated my mind.

In the process, I felt God’s own aching for me,

for any of us caught in these moments,

where we have walked away completely forgetting what we just read due to a distracted mind.

He is interceding compassionately, not judging.

Oh, all those places my mind drifts off to:

building a memory in somewhere…

in something…

else.

Just enough “of-a-somewhere” to keep the memory of God’s word hazy in my heart, like a clouded, cluttered mirror.

Oh, the temporal can feel so eternal,

the eternal can feel so mythical,

and I find myself just gazing at me and all my immediacies,

rather than this ancient, archaic law of liberty.

And I started to lament.

Oh observer, what distracts from the life these timeless truths are trying to tell you?

What are the ‘thinkings’ that keep you forgetting?

To be a reader, but not a rememberer.

I ache, I mourn, at the tragic state of their minds.

Oh wonder, what has drawn you off into details, down a hole, that now you rabbit trailed away?

To be a wonder, but never really land.

I ache, I mourn, at the tragic state of their minds.

Oh listener, what noise of skill, goals, accomplishments keep you from hearing?

Whose new life are you mirroring?

To be a hearer of the word, but a doer of my own thing.

I ache, I mourn, at the tragic state of their minds.

Oh looker, what world and life captivates you, that caresses your curiosity, turning it into jealousy?

To be captivated, but with mere humanity.

I ache, I mourn, at the tragic state of their minds.

Oh gazer, what image are you beholding, upholding, molding for all the world to see?

To appear wearing beauty, but really wearing nothing.

I ache, I mourn, at the tragic state of their minds.

And then I heard:

Let me take you back.

Back to stillness.

Back to noticing.

Back to clear, undistracted gazing.

And, I will recapture your memory.

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What’s the benefit of this beauty

if i,

look upon my children

and see

a crystal clear reflection

the indwelling of me,

illuminating

truth more thoroughly?

Mirroring my stress,

Mirroring my pain,

Mirroring my joy,

Mirroring my grace.

Coming into vision

my own modeling:

lovingly, regretfully, contentedly, analytically

my own looking

while she was watching.

lingering in front of it longer

these days, at ten and five-eights

who is the fairest of them all

i ache to think

oh, gosh, is she,

asking?

Mirroring my stress,

Mirroring my pain,

Mirroring my joy,

Mirroring my grace.

It’s not a valued object yet

beyond the dwindling dress up;

soon, though, could be,

at a solid eight,

coaxing her to brush her hair

now seems like a really good thing.

Still,

notes to follow

steps to lead,

sandwiched in between two sisters,

and a bit more internal,

those feelings.

Mirroring my stress,

Mirroring my pain,

Mirroring my joy,

Mirroring my grace.

It’s a window into a wonderland

for any five year old in

lost pretend play,

with a brush in hand,

curling her hair,

chatting away,

chomping on invisible gum,

talking into this clear glass space.

However,

that cry was deep

from that paper cut,

quizzically wondering now

what’s underneath,

though she does run fast,

quick steps of younger sibling upkeep

Mirroring my stress,

Mirroring my pain,

Mirroring my joy,

Mirroring my grace.

Giggles slapping the reflected pain

a baby on the other side

also with chubby hands,

paws cold, smooth glass,

at the same time,

for his screen time entertainment.

there he spies on me, from

which side mom lives,

is it front or in back,

open mouth wide,

wide open mouth

closed mouth,

mouth closed

modeling me.

Mirroring my stress,

Mirroring my pain,

Mirroring my joy,

Mirroring my grace.

Marriage Lessons from the Bathroom Mirror

Now I?

Growing up with six, and one

Bathroom to share, there must

Always be room. The mirror is big enough

For everyone’s face—just

Requires some skill and partitioning.

My husband slowly learned

When squeezed out,

In the middle of shaving,

But I thought we were both just partaking.

Now He?

Clean like his father, shared with

One other, five years younger,

Could calmly shower in lingering peace,

Because bathrooms are for privacy.

Now we?

Dually noted,

When it’s stressful

It’s a nuisance.

All differences flare up,

We hold no mercy,

Even for sharing a mirror.

When it’s peaceful,

It’s just living.

He chuckles,

And I pull back,

Though still,

There’s plenty of mirror to share,

I'd say.

Isn’t that interesting?

How home spun history

turns deeply dogmatic. Why,

For the love, of I,

Can’t you just see?

Never thought

Due to my history of a one bathroom mirror

Lives a flaw in me,

Until marriage

Demands a reasonable explanation

Beyond:

Because it’s just so.

My most intimate mirror,

This spouse, gazing at me,

this refining human ember,

now my heart reflector,

When our burning coal collides,

Will our two wills be willing to see?

If these poems spoke to you, I would love to know. Feel free to leave a comment.

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The moment this thought popped into my head, I couldn’t get it out. This phrase started chanting:

“Social media, social media on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?”

It started my own personal reckoning and reflection. My own addiction. My own need to check, then check, and check again. My own curiosity that leads to comparison, that leads to discontentment, that leads to judgement, that leads to highs from a like, lows from none, that lead to just. One. More. Check. A growl for more, “likes, praise, notices, recognition” gurgling inside. Oh gosh! There is a monster inside!

It was that point, I completely cut myself off five years ago.

Now, obviously, I am back. I’m here on Substack. And I feel the lure, the urge, the temptation. It’s a fight to keep a tempered heart, mind, and thumb at any age when it comes to social media.

I know all of us adults don’t have to be convinced of this. I too read Jonathan Haidt’s book two years ago and devoted myself to his advice.

My girls started riding their bikes further beyond my comfort zone. Going in the back woods behind our house alone. Figure it out! And you know what? They are alive! It worked. They didn’t die, they figured it out.

I have three girls, 11, 9 and 5. Their teen years are coming all too fast, and the questions for phone usage and social media are trickling in.

While, I want nothing more than anything to tell them, “you will never get a phone and you will never be on social media.”

I secretly hope, our analog wake up call, will peak by the time they enter this digital world, and not just adults but all of humanity will crave the tactile, tangible, real world. They will contentedly sit knitting in a corner, drinking tea, and talking about Shakespeare, Charles Dickens, and their latest sour dough concoction. Or perhaps, Y2K will resurge, really happen, and all forms of smart phone and social media will crash.

Both scenarios are fine with me, either will do. But, my oldest is eleven in two months, and since neither of these options seem to be budding—

I need a few other strategies.

Could a story—an ancient fairy tale like Snow White, suddenly become so current, so perfect for this day.

Could it be the perfect visual—a Queen’s jealousy, becoming exasperated by her addiction to her Magic Mirror, teach my girls deeper truths about Social Media that my phrases like, “It’s not safe. It’s addictive, because I said so,” cannot do?

Well, I am going to try.

Dear Daughter,

I want to give you a few cautions before you enter the world of social media. My hope is this story will paint a picture of the traps and dangers Social Media holds and ensnares. I don’t think I can ever keep you from it, but I hope to warn you of it. Here are a few things we can learn about how the Queen used Social Media in the wrong way.

The Mirror was too Near

The first thing we need to understand about our phone and social media is its nearness. It can be physically near. It can be emotionally near. Both are detrimental to our minds, our hearts, and our bodies. “Sitting alone in your bedroom consuming a bottomless feed of other people’s content... is so far from what you will need.”2

It breeds loneliness, jealousy, idleness, and depression.

“People don’t get depressed when they face threats collectively; they get depressed when they feel isolated, lonely, or useless.”3

Social Media is not as social as you think. It will give you new roads to explore, but it can not replace the real roads you walk on in life. So, with that in mind. Let’s come up with a plan as to where, what room of our home, Social Media should be engaged in.

Getting Affirmation from the Mirror

Okay, so maybe today, all the likes and love you get, will be satisfying. But what happens when it’s crickets, what happens when no one likes your post? If we look for our affirmation through social media, we too will find ourselves, our hearts, our minds in a similar torture to the Queen’s own.

What is fundamentally wrong with the Queen looking to the Mirror for her self-worth, her value?

“Girls in virtual networks are subjected to hundreds of times more social comparison than girls had experienced for all of human evolution. They are exposed to more cruelty and bullying because social media platforms incentivize and facilitate relational aggression. Their openness and willingness to share emotions with other girls espouses them to depression and other disorders. The twisted incentive structures of social media reward the most extreme presentations of symptoms.”5

I have fallen prey to seeking affirmation from Social Media. Ask me and I will tell you my story.

Most adults have.

Social Media is wired to feed that part of you—that affirmation seeking inner self.

“If you’re not enough without another like, you’ll never be enough with it.”6

When on social media can you see on what your heart is asking? Try to make that a habit. Ask before, while, after—what am I looking for here?

Is it: am I enough? Am I known? Am I interesting?

You may not really know. And that’s okay. But from my experience, those are the questions I have asked of it.

Don’t feel ashamed, embarrassed, or ignore it. I struggle with the same temptation. Let’s talk about.

Normalizing Our Usage

Asked as usual. That is one phrase we can’t skip by.

The adults, the teens, the world before you has normalized our social media. It is just as important and common as drawing water from the fridge. Most of the world is just waking up to this reality.

We must train ourselves to see social media as a novelty not as normalcy. It is a novel, fun, creative space. But it is not our normal place for adventure, connection, enrichment.

Let’s talk. How can we build a wall around our usual life and protect it from the encroachment of social media? What boundaries do we need to create to protect our real world, where adventure, connection, and enrichment happen? How can we reflect on our habits, in order to catch our minds, before they look to social media for something more than it can give us?

The Fairer than You Reality

There will always be someone Fairer than you.

There will always be someone fairer than me.

I know adolescence is a journey.

I know you are looking for who you are and where you belong.

It may feel like a crazy concept, but you can be absolutely beautiful, gifted, and successful and live in the shadows of someone else.

What’s the trick?

Humility. Humility creates space for others to be great. Our heart, the core of who we are, is bigger than our looks, our talents, our successes. It’s in being loved. Being loved by God. Knowing you are His creation. Knowing He has made you uniquely for your own unique calling.

Social media is a window to a space where that question in you will be heightened. It will be emphasized. And it will most definitely give you an answer that will leave no peace in your soul.

So what do you do then?

Well, first go out into the real world. Get some authentic humans around you. Who are broken, messy, beautiful, talented, funny, and real. Enjoy them. Let the lessons of real life friendship teach you that it’s really fun to celebrate and honor other’s gifts and success.

Hopefully, that will keep you from this last point. But it probably won’t, because we are all broken inside. And jealousy is human nature.

There is no Peace in Jealousy

While I know you have great character, the danger is we are all one jealous heart away from doing or saying something hurtful. We must walk with this humble understanding of our human nature. We are way more susceptible than we realize, we must be sober of that.

Social Media will amplify this. Be wary.

Look for signs where you feel unrest, unsettled, a need to keep thinking about that one person. Where there are blossoms of that, there is bound to be a root of jealousy.

My daughter, you are at a vulnerable place of growth. It’s okay, you don’t have to admit it out loud. However, I want to surround you with love. The love of God is what I want you to experience first hand. If it takes you time, a winding journey, struggle, some bad decisions—I am okay with that. I had my own and God met me in them. So no, I won’t stop praying that you experience the only Love that will really bring you peace.

And so yes, I will evangelize to you every day.

Love,

Mom

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All is going well in your little world and then just something,

some new bit of information,

about someone else’s bit of success,

in an area you want success in,

comes in.

How does the news sit with you?

Do you ask why them and not me?

Is your mind suddenly transfixed on them, their world, their success?

their, theirs, them, them…

Actually, I should have had that success. Why them? And not me?

Without realizing it, feelings of discontent, frustration, annoyance.

Our heart is suddenly agitated—unsettled.

This jealousy fuels pride.

This jealousy, like carbon dioxide, sucks the life of peace, joy, and contentment.

And left untempered: anger, sadness, depression, even hate will start to fester.

Have you ever felt that?

I sure have. All too many times, I unfortunately must admit.

“Pride must die in you, or nothing of heaven can live in you.”

― Andrew Murray, Humility: The Journey Toward Holiness

Why Consider Jealousy, Envy, and Pride when Hungering for Humility?

Our first focus for this humility series is on pride. When I say pride, I am referring to the vainglorious, hubris, self-worship type of pride, not the confident, self-respecting type of pride used more commonly these days.

Pride, vanity, vainglory. They sound and feel ancient to the tongue. When’s the last time you used the word “vainglory” in a sentence?

Vainglory is defined as excessive, extreme, intemperate, unreasonable pride in oneself or one’s achievements; excessive vanity.

Whether it’s saying vainglory or just plainly saying pride, the truth is, our current culture doesn’t quite subscribe to this belief that pride and vanity are dangerous.

As my children continue to grow, I see more and more, pride and vanity can become confusing discussions. Is it really that bad?

However—

Jesus teaches:

The Bible exhorts:

And warns:

So from here, I am taking our first step into kindling a heart for humility, through looking intently into the things that could keep us from a humble heart.

Learning from a Fairy Tale Queen

Is there any better literary character the Queen when thinking of pride, vanity, and vainglory?

“Now, this queen had a magic mirror…sometimes, when she was alone, she would unveil it and look at herself—this way, that way—and, oh! She was superlatively beautiful.”

Don’t you just feel the narcissism behind these words?

Honestly, for about a month now—I can’t get the Queen out of my mind. I find her evil is suddenly giving clarity, the concrete truth, a tangible visual, we, and our children, need in this day and age.

Her obsession to this mirror and checking, checking, checking it.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall…”

Her fixation with being the “fairest” the best. Her agony when she discovers one day she is not.

“The queen’s wicked passions grew in her, until she had no peace, day or night.”

She is a perfectly illustrates James 3:16 and Proverbs 14:30 for us:

So let’s read Snow White to illuminate our hearts and deepen our experience of James 3:16, Proverbs 14:30.

About Snow White

I imagine almost everyone knows the story of Snow White. But if you aren’t familiar with the story a super quick summary is:

There is a Queen who is deeply jealous of her step daughter, Snow White’s, beauty and will go to no end to kill and rid the world of anyone fairer than herself.

Now, did you know?

The Brother’s Grimm were deeply spiritual faith-filled men. And Snow White is an allegory of the gospel?

Snow White is humanity. The Queen is the devil. The Dwarfs are the voice of the church (there were actually monks, living in a monastery in the original). The apple is sin, that we unfortunately can’t resist and fall into. The Prince is Jesus—our rescuer, redeemer, and deliverer.

Read and Gather

Now as you read this story with your children, take your time with it. Read it over and over again. Consider checking out a few different versions at the library. When you are ready to dive deeper into a discussion about jealous, envy and it’s hinderance to humility, below are a plethora pf suggested conversation starters, activities, and prayers. Feel free to pick, choose, and cater to your family.

Ask:

• What does the Queen want more than anything?

• What happens when she discovers she isn’t the fairest?

• Does her heart seem at peace? Does her mind seem sound?

• How does her envy rot her?

• What type of vile practices does she start to do?

• Do her actions make her more beautiful or uglier?

• How would this story have changed if the Queen had humbled herself and said something like, “You know it’s okay. She can be prettier than me.”

• Is it hard to see others do something better than you? Or is it easy?

Share:

• Share a time you let jealousy feast and fester in your heart. Mom, share first.

• Have you ever wanted to be the best at something? Were you? Were you not? Discuss.

• Share a story of a time you had to humbly accept someone was better at something than you.

Memorize:

• “A sound heart is life to the body, But envy is rottenness to the bones.” Prov 14:30

• “For where jealousy and selfish ambition exist, there will be disorder and every vile practice.” James 3:16

Do:

• Create a Poster of Prov 14:30 or James 3:16 and display it somewhere in your home

• Journal, draw, sketch based off: the Queen + Prov 14:30 + James 3:16

Pray:

Whether it’s praying in your own quiet corner or praying with your kids, let’s intentionally pray for our children that:

• they will not fall prey to jealousy.

• they begin to discern how envy and jealousy make them feel.

• they will crave the ways of God more than their own vainglory.

• They will trust God has a plan for their lives, especially when they encounter another’s success.

• Their hearts will deepen into the truth and love of God this week.

Try:

Look for situations where you can teach your children to rejoice in another’s success. Say or praying something like,

• “Thank you God that “so and so” did really well at _____________. Thank you God that you are blessing them today!”

• I’m really glad we could be here to witness “so and so” doing their best and getting recognized for it! Let’s go congratulate them.

  ---

Additional Pondering:

Consider taking time on your own, or with older children at your discretion, to explore Renaissance Art and its common depiction of Envy: an old woman eating her own heart. Did you notice that is what that metal work is about above?

Grotesque? Oh yes! Very. It’s shocking really as you explore art by artist like Pieter Bruegel the Elder and Giotto. Their pieces of snakes biting their heads, chaotic scenes, eating their own heart all to symbolize the self-destructive nature of jealous.

However, with these pieces in my mind, if a twinge of jealously starts to creep in, I can ask myself, “do I really want to eat my own heart?”

Closing Thoughts:

Thank you for joining me on this humility journey. I pray your hearts will deepen into the love of God this week. I pray you will not fall prey to jealousy. I pray you will rejoice in other’s successes, be content in your circumstance, and lean into our humble Lord and Savior, Jesus.

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What’s to Come:

• Article: Could Snow White be a Social Media Cautionary Tale that finally influence our Children’s Decisions?

• A Personal Reflection Essay on Mirrors

• Our next book study in the series: The Emperor’s New Clothes by Hans Christian Anderson

Rhymes with weakness.

Sounds like a suitable quality for a mouse.

You know the path one must take to become humble?

Often a lonely, quiet road. Less traveled.

There is a reason humiliation and humility have the same root word. Do I really want to go there?

In a world where we praise the powerful, what power does humility have?

Why is it so hard to be humble?

What is so beautiful about Jesus calling himself humble?

To imagine the God of the universe becoming a man, Jesus, and labeling himself as humble?

Needless to say, most of us have preconceived notions about humility. I sure do. I find myself in between questions and reservations.

Yet, when I see a truly humble moment or person, my heart resonates with it. It is deeply moving. When the humble, in movies and stories, overcomes in the end, it touches me to the core—taking my breath away.

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Welcome to this Humility Reading Series

Welcome to my Humility Children’s Book Series with Stories that Shape Souls—a simple, meaningful way to use Classic Children’s books to shape the Biblical theme of humility in your heart and your children’s.

Here is an invitation, for all of us, old and young, to contemplate humility.

This is where our family will be living for the next three months. These are our bedtime books. So snuggle up, and join me in this soul-shaping series.

The Plan

I’ve curated art, picture books, chapter books, scripture, poetry, and flowers (if you can find them in bloom) to help you build attention around humility. My vision is that this can be a feast of humility for you and your family.

Each week, I’ll release an article about each book. It will include: a scriptural focus, discussion prompts, and something additional, like a poem or art piece. I will also release a few personal essays, reflecting and sharing bits of my own humbling moments.

I invite you to become child-like again, explore this theme deeply, and enter into the world of these Children’s books.

Read them to your child at bedtime—or just read to yourself (I won’t tell if you do).

I hope seeds of wisdom drop deeply into your soul, take root, and kindle a heart for greater humility.

The Book List + Study

Below are nine children’s books exhibiting the theme of humility (or the lack of it).

This study is broken into three smaller series: The Ugly Price of Pride, Humility’s Rugged Road, and The Sweet Fruit of Humility.

The Ugly Price of Pride

Pride is sneaky. Whether it’s hiding under pride’s protective shield or being seduced by the power it offers, I am certain we all carry it one way or another. And to start this series off, we have to look at it. Below are the first three books we’ll dig into:

• Snow White by The Brother’s Grimm —A poignant picture of envy (a sure sign of pride in our hearts). We’ll see its toxicity, its addiction, and ultimate destruction of one jealous Queen first hand.

• The Emperor’s New Clothes by Hans Christian Anderson—Pride and arrogance have a blinding effect. Let’s learn what happens when the whole town gets bewitched by it and discover how humility can open our eyes.

• The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett—There is a sneaky existence of pride in self-sufficiency. We’ll feel the lonely, cold brutal reality of it, and together question if it’s really serving the inhabitants of this vast Manor. Let’s watch what happens when few humble, safe relationships enter into these self-sufficient characters.

Humility’s Rugged Road

Next, we’ll dive into the internal work it takes to gain a humble heart. The hardest part to wanting humility is the road we must take to get there. Struggle, suffering, sometimes being misunderstood, sometimes loss and lack, sometimes walking with an obvious weakness you can’t hide. Below are the three books we’ll dive into:

• Lassie Come, Home by Eric Knight —Humility’s road is long, hard, and painful. Feel the hopelessness of it in one honest father. It’s a rugged journey of the soul that we’ll experience in a resilient dog.

• Those Shoes by Maribeth Boelts—Limits: financial, social, physical, imposed or not. They all have a way of forming humility. And one little boy yields his limits and finds joy and freedom through this humble acceptance.

• The Empty Pot by Demi—Humiliation sits close by to a humbling experience. And this little boy is about to bear the biggest humiliation ever. What does it cost and what happens in the end?

The Sweet Fruit of Humility

Finally, we’ll see the fruit of humility in action. How it ends battles, gives us endurance, allows us to apologize and forgive, solidifies life-long friendships, and other surprises. Below are the final three books to delve into:

• The Story of Ferdinand by Munro Leaf—Could humility be strong enough to end battles? How could it possibly? One, gentle bull will teach us.

• The House at Pooh Corner by A.A. Milne—Let this humble bear be our guide in the art of keeping lifelong friends regardless of their quirks, grumpyness, pompous empty words, and other nuisances.

• Junkyard Wonder by Patricia Polacco—When a bunch of kids humbly let their weaknesses shine, a surprising collaboration emerges. Showing us a little humility may be the key to creating something phenomenal.

Guide to a Flexible and Soul Shaping Reading Rhythm

1. Don’t feel obligated to read all of them.

   I tried to compile a list of books suitable for a wide range of ages and interests. What humility angle do you need? What do you want to illuminate for your children? Let this be a list you go back to often.

2. Adjust for ages.

   Chapter books may not catch the attention of your younger children, consider looking for a picture book version or choose just a special chapter to share (I’ll highlight stand alone chapters that can just sit as it’s own story). Picture books may feel young for those older ones, challenge them to bare with you, and then pull out the questions and have a deeper discussion.

3. Permission to just read and not discuss.

   While I give questions and suggestions on how to go deeper with these stories, it’s okay for them to just sit as is. For me, I always felt cold and lonely when my mother started reading The Secret Garden to us. I yearned to just skip through the isolating hard parts and get to when Mary, Colin, and Dickens could freely play in the garden . I never fully connected the dots till later in my life, “Oh that is what isolation, self-sufficiency look and feel like.”

4. I won’t tell if you just read these to yourself.

   This series is just as much for adults as it is for children. Beyond giving you an excuse to be a kid again, great children’s books are really just small reads with deep meaning. I give you permission to get the kids to bed and just enjoy The House at Pooh Corner for yourself.

5. Keep the eyes of your heart open.

   The Holy Spirit is always speaking. For me, He often uses these books—perhaps because they still my own heart—to speak in a deep, profound, life-shaping way.

6. Look for moments of connection.

   With your heart full of scriptures and stories, be prayerful and expectant for opportunities to have a conversation and bridge life with story and scripture.

7. Consider Keeping a Journal.

   Writing down quotes, scripture, notes surrounding books you are reading is called a Common Place Book. My tip, listen to what your kids are asking, bringing up, and noticing. Write those down. Let those be windows for discussion and family reflection.

Closing Thoughts

I like the visual of 1 Peter 5:5:

That image of clothing.

It reminds me that this is a daily task—simple, habitual, practical, repetitive.

Clothing ourselves daily is beyond second nature; we don’t think twice about it.

And yet intentional, thoughtful, purposeful, and a choice.

I peruse my closet each morning and artfully choose an outfit for the day.

Clothing myself with humility?

I want it to be habitual and so second nature, yet also intentional and purposeful.

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We Watch

She steps out on the ice,

Taking a risk

From here I watch—

Pushing down, cracking the top,

Pulling a chunk, letting it drop.

She teeters between kid and teen.

I noted the other day

Silence:

Sitting on the ground, a lego house,

Twelve lego friends, hands at play,

Mind a world away.

Then later she sobbed and rolled

Her eyes twice.

Challenged my mind a couple of times

And I’m supposed to know what to do.

I passed the baby, toddler, kid phase

(with a bruise or two but heal)

This—it’s too new, and I

Can’t miss the terminology because the vocabulary

Means more, hurts more–

She understands more.

But every night, still melting when I brush her hair,

Tell her I love her, and snuggle in tight.

It’s not the last cuddle, I am certain.

I’m the actor, she’s the reactor—

So what type of poker face

Will I need to muster one late night?

What internal peace will I need to hold

During a ruminating rampage?

It’s feels like thin ice—

I might step on and crack.

From there she watches.

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They All Talk at the Same Time

Sharing stories all at once,

You’d think they’d learn by 10, 8, 5 and 5 months.

What they say I haven’t a hunch

From this cheerful, chattery, vocal bunch.

On the fridge I nearly pin,

That interrupting is a cardinal sin.

Yet the graces from on high

Keep this take-turn-discourse a pie in the sky.

Oh, girls when will you ever learn

To just take your turn?

Ideally, before you ruin my thesis

That having lots of children is such a treat-sis.

But, hence I probably took the parenting oath

That my children’s weakness is for my own growth.

Haikus

Dishes

Stack em here, really?

Dishwashers are a safe place.

“No please! It’s too far!”

Cleaning

Who should clean this up?

Is it you, me, or those three?

Let’s decide tonight.

Literary Quote that’s Currently Resonating with My Soul

I just finished this book with my ten-year-old. And I can not stop thinking about this quote and how perfectly it describes our experience as mothers.

He saw too plainly in the miller’s broad honest face the truffle between the pain of sacrifice and the joy of giving. -Adam of the Road by Elizabeth Janet Gray

If I were to rewrite and add to this quote, it would be:

Frankly, I heard in the mother’s voice a wobbling, a teetering between “…the pain of sacrifice and the joy of giving…” as she spoke about home, her children, and her life.

And as she heard other mother’s stories and read their words, she realized it wasn’t an anomaly. And she could settle into the wrestle of this dichotomy.

Scripture that’s Currently Provoking my Spirit

Stephen’s Last Words before He was martyred.

As they stoned him, Stephen prayed, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” He fell to his knees, shouting, “Lord, don’t charge them with this sin!” And with that, he died.” Acts 7: 59-60 NLT

I was asking myself these questions:

• What does this teach me about humility?

• What type of mom raised Stephen?

Stories that Shape Souls Update

• My children’s book list and study guide series focusing on the theme of humility is almost ready. The book list and roadmap for the series comes out this week. Subscribe now to be a part of the series.

• If you are new here and want to know more about Stories that Shape Souls I recommend this post.

• Curious about a past children’s book series? Check this one out.

  Thanks for reading! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

The Christmas Cuckoo Fairy Tale by Frances Browne

I don’t know why I chose The Christmas Cuckoo. I still really think the title could be used for so many things. A short film about a mom overthinking, overspending, over committing to the holiday season? A poem about over-sugared, over-tired, over-stimulated children, bored with their new toys, on Dec 26th?

Hence the Cuckoo, referred to in this story, is a bird, not a person.

About the Story

The Christmas Cuckoo is about two brothers, Scrub and Spare, who are poor, mediocre cobblers. One Christmas, cold and hungry, they chop a root of a tree down to build a fire—unaware it’s a home to a Cuckoo bird. The bird awakens and flies out of the fire. They let it stay with them through spring (since they burned his home). In exchange, the bird offers to get them both a present. Fast forward, the bird gives them a choice between two different leaves and each brother chooses a different leaf.

…there are two trees hard by the well that lies at the world’s end: one of them is called the golden tree, for its leaves are all of beaten gold: every winter they fall into the well with a sound like scattered coins, and I know not what becomes of them. As for the other, it is always green like a laurel. Some call it the wise, and some the merry tree. Its leaves never fall, but they that get one of them keep a blithe heart in spite of all misfortunes and can make themselves as merry in a hut as in a palace. —The Christmas Cuckoo

Finding Myself in Scrub

Scrub chooses the gold leaf and discovers a life of luxury that quickly leads to pride. But the gold leaf only goes so far. He wants more and more. Appalled by his brother’s choice to choose the green merry leaf, Scrub eventually disowns his brother and abandons him. He takes his gold leaf. Now filled with fortune, he gathers the attention of the town—quickly winning friends and influencing them.

In our current culture of fast fashion, quick fame, empty words, exploitative opportunities, one click away from a little more fame, a little more power, I fear we are swimming in a culture of gold leaf living. More fame, power, and money messages surround our children. Surround me. Perhaps one could argue those vices have been around since time, but never as in our face and quickly attainable as it is now due to social media.

C.S. Lewis says the reason we should read old books is because every generation values something right and something wrong. Every generation has a blind spot. When we read books from the past it opens our minds to possibly see and confront our cultural blind spots. Past cultural values ooze out of these old books. And it’s so refreshing. A breath of past air.

And that is what happened as we read this book. My girls and I, we criticized Scrub. He made the wrong choice. He is selfish, greedy, mean—and oh the list goes on. But, my girls and I agreed in the end, we, unfortunately, would have asked for the gold leaf.

As natural and easy as it has been to be proud, it must become natural for us to be humble. —Andrew Murray, Humility: The Journey to Holiness

Finding Myself in Spare

Spare, the brother who chose the green laurel leaf from the Merry Tree that keeps a blithe heart is now alone in the shanty hut. And while it’s clear, everyone misunderstands him. What a fool for blatantly rejecting gold. Spare is so content, at peace, and merry.

I find my own path to humility came through motherhood. I had two kids, lived in New York City, and stayed home with them. Most of the moms were working. And in my eyes they looked fabulous. They had it all. My fault and personal career demise was that I wanted to be an actress. Hence, when babies came I didn’t have a “career” to go back to. My acting career hadn’t taken off. Now, I wanted to stay home..and I didn’t. The beautiful maternal ambivalence I know most of us have felt at some point in our lives. I love it and hate it. I want it and I don’t.

All the details of these parts of my life are for another story, on another day. But what comes to mind is this one day when I was picking up my oldest daughter from nursery school. The head of the program, with all great intentions, said to me, “It’s such a shame you stay home with the girls. You are so talented.”

It stung me in all sorts of ways, but honestly, I felt embarrassed. Why am I not working? Why am I wasting my talent on being home with two little kids, reading them books, rolling balls, making flower shaped cheese for ten o’clock snack time? I felt alone as a stay at home mom. I felt lame. More than feeling misunderstood by others, I misunderstood myself and this deep bizarre urge in my heart to stay home with my children.

And while, I didn’t always have the contentment Spare had. I can deeply relate to his moment living in the hut, misunderstood. While it appears he never questioned it, I sure questioned, should I have taken the gold leaf?

What’s beautiful about this story, and in mine, is that there is an unquenchable joy available—not found in fortune, fame, or power. The Merry Leaf is Jesus. And slowly He shapes us, molds us, and humbles us.

The character of Spare is a beautiful picture of humility. It’s a character I just can’t get out of my mind. He has been transformed to the purest sense—living peacefully in his meager hut and holding no offense when his brother abandons him. Everything about him is so beautifully humble, so Christ-like.

How Do I Ignite a Hunger for Humility in my Home?

Humility. How do I build a value for humility in our home? How do I provoke my children to walk humbly? I’m asking myself, a mom, raising kids in this culture. Character growth comes from hardship, from trials. Trails and hardships humble us. The very act of mothering, the choice of staying home in the midst of my friends going back to work, it humbled me. It still humbles me. It is very evident to me that I can’t just give my children everything. Trials and hardships are ingredients to a heart full of hope in God. And a heart full of humility. Andrew Murray in his book Humility: The Journey Toward Holiness states:

Humility is the only soil in which the graces root; the lack of humility is the sufficient explanation of every defect and failure. Humility is not so much a grace or virtue along with others; it is the root of all, because it alone takes the right attitude before God, and allows Him as God to do all.

In Romans 5: 3-5 it says:

Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.

How do I not rescue my kids from hard paths that will lead them to a humble posture? How do I, as an example, keep choosing the path of humility?

The irony of humility is that it’s more powerful than pride, but it isn’t natural. And it doesn’t appear to be powerful when you are mocked, abandoned, and losing. But slowly humility overcomes. And that is the power picture Spare’s storyline gives us.

Back to Spare’s Storyline

First, it’s the few other rejected townspeople that now live near him who get transformed for the better. And slowly, Spare’s unquenchable contentment starts to impact more people and soon draws the attention of the town, kingdom, and king. At the climax of the story, Spare is living at the King’s Castle—his right hand confidant. The King, so healed of his sorrow and distress, offers him a gift. A beautiful silk, velvet garment. And this is how Spare responds:

“High and mighty monarch, this doublet was with me before silk and velvet came—it serves to keep me humble, by recalling the days when it was my holiday garment.”

It’s such a powerful image of humility. He could finally say, “Ah, hah! Look how great I am! Yes, let everyone see how much of an impact I have made.” But humility always wants to stay humble. And humble he stays. It made me think of how much I spend on clothing, and while I love the beauty of clothing, sometimes I want to prove I’m more than I am. It made me think of this Proverb:

One person pretends to be rich, yet has nothing; another pretends to be poor, yet has great wealth. Proverbs 13:7

And this verse:

All of you, clothe yourselves with humility toward one another, because, “God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble.” 1 Peter 5:5

This image of him clothing himself with this old doublet—rejecting silks and velvet—had me thinking, and thinking. Would I have done the same?

I’m Keeping my Old Shoes

So the other day this thought came to me. What if I keep my old sneakers another year? Honestly, I really don’t want to. They aren’t white anymore, they are total blah. And even writing—a whole year—pains me and makes my heart beat faster. Maybe just three months? Which means I really think I need to make these my leather doublet for the year. A way to remind myself, to clothe myself with humility. Perhaps, it will lead to conversations with my children. Perhaps, I can challenge them to choose a “doublet” to wear.

Gather and Wonder

Now if you want to read The Christmas Cuckoo for yourself. Here’s my guide on how you can bring this to life in your homes.

Mom + Older Kids

Read to yourself and older children The Christmas Cuckoo: It’s a great book for elementary age and older (my five year old barely held interest, but my older ones were fascinated). The book has a couple of storylines so it felt a bit Shakespeare like to us all—which is great for older kids, harder for younger ones.

Write this Quote in a Journal: “High and mighty monarch, this doublet was with me before silk and velvet came—it serves to keep me humble, by recalling the days when it was my holiday garment.”

Mediate on this Verse: All of you, clothe yourselves with humility toward one another, because, “God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble.” 1 Peter 5:5

Ask and Answer:

• How did Spare exhibit humility?

• How did his humble posture affect others?

• What stuck out to you?

• Do you think it was hard to reject the beautiful clothes? Why?

• Is there a way we can practice clothing ourselves with humility?

Retell the Story: If you don’t read the story with your children, consider retelling the story in a way manageable to them.

I don’t know if I will actually follow through with my doublet challenge—I hope I do. And, I don’t know if I have the answers to the questions I am asking. I know I don’t fully understand humility.

I feel prideful in a sense in writing this article. Just by publishing it, the trap is now somehow I am the expert. My hope is rather to make an invitation. I’m inviting you into this unfinished idea of how we can ignite a hunger for humility into our souls, and our children’s souls. What are your ideas? What’s your humble path story?

I’m pulling together a collection of humility themed Children’s Books for all ages to help you delve deeper for the coming weeks. I’d love if you joined me on this humility journey.

Humbly Yours,

Vanessa

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Week Four of Advent is here, the final week of Advent. We are getting near to the moment where the promise moves from figurative and prophetic to real and tangible. God becoming flesh.

As we reflect on love this week, our family read-aloud is The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey by Susan Wojciechowski.

And, what I love about The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey is it’s a story of the most powerful miracles that people experience everyday when they encounter Christ—healing.

About the Story

Note: This story touches on themes of loss and grief. Please feel free to read at your own pace and discern what is best for your family, especially if this season feels tender.

The story starts with an introduction to Jonathan Toomey, “whom the children call Mr. Gloomy.”

He is a bit of a Scrooge-like character staying grumpy for a fair amount of the story.

For Jonathan Toomey seldom smiled and never laughed. He went about mumbling and grumbling, muttering and sputtering, grumping and griping.

Hidden Pain

As the story unfolds we discover he has a hidden pain.

Some years earlier, when Jonathan Toomey was young and full of life and full of love, his wife and baby had become very sick…his wife and baby died, three days apart from each other.

This is a book about pain.

The weight it bears on us when we don’t deal with it.

The courage it requires to look at it.

The surrender Christ asks of us to release it.

The redemption that lies beyond it when Christ, the healer, touches it.

A little boy, Thomas, and his widowed mom enter into his life one day a few days before Christmas in need of Jonathan’s wood carving skills. Thomas’ direct comments and eager questions are just the childlike innocence and antics to soften Jonathan and prepare him for his Christmas Miracle.

Read and Gather

As you read The Miracle of Johnathan Toomey with your children this week, I invite you to connect that God’s love brings healing. As you read together, you may find opportunities for deeper conversations—or moments where simply being present is enough. Below are ideas and ways to go deeper.

Ask:

• Why was Jonathan so sad?

• How did Jonathan’s responses to Thomas change over time? Why?

• How did God use Thomas to change Jonathan?

Share:

• 1 John 4:9 “In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through Him.”

• 1 Psalm 147:3 “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.”

Do:

• Tell your story about a hard or painful thing that God healed you from (maybe He’s used mothering to heal you from something—share it—God used them!)

• For older children consider tackling a deeper conversation with your older children about hiding pain—using the character arc of Jonathan as your point of reference. (Maybe it’s not a conversation for now, but shelf it for another appropriate day)

• Awe and wonder about how good our God is that he heals broken hearts

• Sing the Christmas Hymn: O Come Let Us Adore Him

Personal Reflection: Our Pain for God’s Beauty

Oh I love this story so much. I love it so much that this post was the hardest for me to write because I feel so much when I read this book to my girls—tears always coming down by the end.

I feel the power of God’s love: the gentle love that softens us down, the costly love that asks one to give from the deepest part of them, the transformative love that heals the hardest of hearts.

I feel so much and my words don’t come out right to express what I feel.

I love the wrestle, Jonathan’s struggle Christmas Eve. Do I go there? Do I open the draw and confront the greatest pain I’ve know? Will it be too much to bear? I love how he is literally gazing into the face of Jesus, adoring Him all night—and the next morning—freedom has come. He is a changed man.

I love how his final carving cost him everything. He sacrifices his most vulnerable possession. His pain.

And out of it what comes? Beauty. The perfect carving of Mary and Baby Jesus.

I have found that healing can take place when I’m not afraid to go to the places of pain, let the Holy Spirit touch what I’ve shut out and keep in the draw. And remember, we don’t go there alone, we go with the Comforter, the Counselor, Jesus our Savior.

So, as we come to the final week of Advent, my prayer for you and your family is that God’s hope, peace, joy and love that a deeper shape in you and your children’s hearts.

• Book: The Snowy Day by Ezra Jack Keats

• Theme: Joy in the Simple Daily Things

• Scripture: Psalm 118:24 — “This is the day that the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.”

• Additional Scripture: Nehemiah 8:10 — “The joy of the Lord is your strength.”

As Week 3 of Advent starts,The Snowy Day, by Ezra Jack Keats, reminds us: there is grace for today and to find joy in the ordinary.

At first glance, this book of large texts and bold painted illustrations looks perfectly fit for your five-year-old.  An advent book for the whole family? Eight and ten year olds? 

Sparse text. Three pages of Peter’s feet “crunch, crunch, crunch.”  Feet turned out.Turned in. Dragging slowly by. 

Sounds kind of…boring?

Or, is it actually intentional and asking us (and older children) to look closer? 

I remember those city days, living in New York City, where the winter chill swirled around me walking to the subway. The winter I became a mom we had a huge snowstorm, piled so high it covered our Honda Civic. Some kids made an igloo in the nearby park and my husband sat our 10-month-old in it. Her eyes were wide with wonder in the center of all that white. What was this new experience?

What I love about The Snowy Day is Peter sees the beauty in something so simple and small. A snowy sidewalk. Peter doesn’t find joy because he has a perfect play space or a grand adventure—his childlike curiosity awakes him to see the wonder right where he is, with what he has.

Peter is a picture of Psalm 118:24,

This is the day that the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.

Choosing Childlike Wonder leads to Joy

To me this book beckons me to become childlike again. To once again pull myself back from the weight and worry, the diapers and dishes, the busy and buying—to see the simple joys right around me. Our family, going for a walk together. Our four kids piled into our bed on a Saturday morning.

Joy isn’t found when life is easy, in clarity, or in buying. Joy is found in receiving what Christ has already done with Childlike wonder.

Gather and Read

Before you read aloud, take a moment to slow your own heart. Ask the Holy Spirit to restore childlike joy in you. Then, as you read, Wonder Together:

Ask:

• What small thing brought Peter joy?

• What small thing brought you joy today?

• How can we practice noticing the simple joys this week?

• Where did Peter lose his joy? Why? (Spoiler alert—I’ll tell you why)

Share:

• Psalm 118:24 — “This is the day that the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.”

• Nehemiah 8:10 — “The joy of the Lord is your strength.”

Do:

• Invite your children to linger on the simple things: the crunch of footsteps, snow angels. Connect those moments to the truth that we can delight and rejoice in God’s gift of today.

• Look for “small joys” during the week — the warmth of a blanket, the hush of a winter morning, laughter at the table. 

• Make a “Joy List” together and hang it on the fridge.

• Venture outside together and hunt for joy. Look for: tiny beauties, winter sounds, small but wonderful things God has made.

Mom Tip: For the “mature” reluctant child instead of asking them to join in, I usually just do it. I often find if I model something long enough, they just want to jump in over time naturally.

Personal Reflections: Joy in the Ordinary 

Often snow in the Bible represents grace. What made our hearts white as snow? Jesus’ grace.

I like to look at Peter's snowball he tried to save in his pocket as God’s grace. Now, here is the “manna” moment of the story. The “do not worry about tomorrow…” moment. 

Before he got into bed he looked in his pocket. His pocket was empty. The snowball wasn’t there. He felt very sad.

Peter was trying to hold onto the grace from the past, instead of letting it go, and trusting there will be enough grace for tomorrow.

Oh, how often I have started my day on empty, on worry.  There is not enough of x, y,  z. I remember when my oldest daughters were at the “hardest” age—1 and 3. For me, joy often manifested through a break—getting away from them. 

Having that hot cup of coffee. 

Having a shower. 

Five single minutes to myself?

And often I would realize my little “snowballs of joy” would melt all too soon and make me feel very sad and sulky. 

I sulkily make their breakfast. Then I sulkily pick up after them. Then sulkily wash this, sulkily get that. By noon I did not see how the Lord could have made this day just for me. 

Really? 

Rejoice and be glad in it? 

Bah, Humbug! 

What was wrong? I was holding onto the grace from my own past—my past of maternal free days. And now as a mom, I couldn’t see how I could have grace for that day, or the next, because I was so tired!

I know it’s cliche, but it’s unbelievably true. I look back on those days in our tiny NYC apartment with my two oldest ones and yearn to relive those moments. 

What do we do moms? How do we keep the worry of our daily calling from weighing us down? 

I believe it is in truly letting go of things we loved about prior seasons.

It’s letting go of our need for this moment to look a certain way.

It’s letting go so we can trust Christ right now, right in this moment, with the day He has given us. 

It’s saying good night to our expectations, and awakening with expectation of how the Holy Spirit will fill you in a unique way today.

For me, well that looked like opening these classic books, reading them to my children, and what do you know? God spoke to me. 

Scriptures, I had treasured in my heart from days past, were bubbling up inside me and giving me the joy I needed for that day. Right there on a messy floor—with my children—reading The Snowy Day.

Closing Prayer:

Oh, give us eyes to see your beauty God! To enjoy simple things of the day, to wonder and rejoice in the homes we are making and creating with our children. Help us to hear the “crunch, crunch, crunch,” of their feet, to delight in the day that you, Lord, have made.

As week two of Advent starts, our homes, perhaps, feel fuller with trees, cards, decor, and lights. Ah, the warmth of the Christmas season is here.

This week’s book, The Little House by Virginia Lee Burton, is about a house built by a loving family out in the peaceful countryside. She, the house, watches days and seasons go by contentedly—until things shift.

The Little House’s Prodigal Journey

She, the house, watches days and seasons go by contentedly—until things shift.

Construction and demolition. New homes and buildings. Then a city. She isn’t sure at first if she likes the city or not. Perhaps she had a dull life? Perhaps all this flash will fill her in a new and better way?

But soon enough the booming bustling world around her weighs her down to an unbearable point. She is lost and hopeless.

The Little House, in a sense, is a little person living, in the beginning, with her first love in order—the presence of God. The quiet countryside represents “the Father’s house.”

The busy, built-up bustling city represents “the world.” This Little House will have its own “prodigal son” journey.

The Search for “Something More” Can Rob Our Peace

“The Little House was curious about the city and wondered what it would be like to live there.”

Oh, that line feels familiar. That curiosity—the wondering what life might be like somewhere else, in someone else’s shoes.

Isn’t that how most prodigal stories start? Just a twinge of discontentment.

But what we see in this story, in scripture, in all great prodigal storylines—the search for more outside of Christ will always rob us of our peace. Because,

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. —Jesus

Gather and Read

As you read The Little House with your children this week, I invite you to make connections to The Parable of the Lost Son found in Luke 15:11–24.

Highlight these parts:

“…the younger son… set off for a distant country… squandered his wealth in wild living… and he began to be in need… He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating… When he came to his senses, he said… I will go back to my father…”

Wonder Together

• How was life in the beginning for both the Little House and the Son?

• What happened to both of them?

• What did they both discover?

Then read:

John 14:27 —
“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”

Try One of These

• Share a time you looked for peace in other places.

• Tie in this verse on discontentment:
  “I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances... I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation.” — Philippians 4:11–12

• Listen or read the original hymn: “Give Me Jesus.”

My Own Reflections

When I first became a mother, our New York City apartment overlooked a subway station. Every morning and evening I watched people pound the pavement heading off to what I imagined were the most exciting places.
Meanwhile, my world had narrowed to something small and repetitive: feeding, rocking, walking a baby. Over and over again. And I was restless. My own untempered curiosity was out of control. Was that one going to an audition? I’m sure she is off to an amazing marketing job.

Slowly God began to whisper, “the peace you long for isn’t out there.”

While I knew that—so I thought. It was, actually, in the stopping of my busy world and mothering for the first time that Christ really began unearthing the layers of discontentment that kept Him from being my Prince of Peace.

Now, moms, there is this little clue this story is autobiographical. Did you see the subtitle? It says, “Her story.” Is the author, Virginia Lee Burton, sharing her own story arc of home, fame, home with us? I think so.

She was a wonderful mother, talented author, and gifted illustrator—what first was just story writing for her sons became a huge successful business that grew and grew. But in the end what did she (and the Little House) find most important? The home.

Oh, those ordinary days were shaping my heart into something steady and real. And though I have a different story arc than Burton, I can say alongside her:

“Never again would she be curious about [x,y,z]... Never again would she want to live there...The stars twinkled above her.”

That’s the picture of peace I want to hold this season: contentment in the place God has planted you.

There’s something hopeful about the first week of December, week one of Advent, for me. Before the rush of Christmas; before the panic exit out of the house to make it to the school concert on a dark, cold night; before the swirl of festivities— there’s this pause. A moment of stillness. A candle flickering in the dark. A whisper of hope.

This first week of Advent is about hope—hoping in His promises. 

The Velveteen Rabbit is about a little rabbit gifted to a child on Christmas. The Rabbit, who is looked down upon by the other toys because he isn’t shiny or mechanical, soon learns that if he is truly loved by his owner one day a magical thing will happen to him. In spite of his meager appearance there’s a hope that one day he will be loved into “real”. Then one chance day, he is thrashed into his owners arms at bedtime, and his journey begins.

The Longing and Hope for…

When I read The Velveteen Rabbit, I’m always struck by the exchange between the Rabbit and the Wise Old Skin Horse. 

The Skin Horse is the oldest toy in the nursery, worn and wise. He’s seen toys come and go, their paint chipped and their clockwork broken. One day the Rabbit asks him the question tugging at his heart:

“What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day… “It’s a thing that happens,” said the Skin Horse. “When a child loves you for a long, long time—not just to play with, but really loves you—then you become Real.”

There’s so much wisdom tucked into that little exchange. The Rabbit hears of this mysterious becoming, this transformation that love will make him into something more than he is. And isn’t that what Advent is all about?

Remembering that God’s people were waiting in hopeful expectation. Prophets wise and old share wisdom they didn’t quite comprehend but it fueled a hope inside.

And, we too, are waiting. Waiting for the love that will make us whole. Waiting for what has been promised to become real.

Loved Into Realness

The Skin Horse goes on to explain:

“Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

Every time I read that, I pause. Because isn’t that motherhood?

By the time we become “real” much of our shine has worn off. The sleepless nights, the giving, the worry, the love that stretches us past what we thought we could hold—it all leaves its mark. We lose some hair, some energy, some smoothness around the edges. 

But maybe that’s what being loved into “realness” looks like. 

True beauty doesn’t come from what hasn’t been touched or tested. It comes from the places where we’ve been held and healed, worn and made new.

A moment to pause: Where has love made you real this year? What places in your life, though worn and weary, has God’s love quietly shaped you into His likeness?

The Longing for Real

After hearing the Skin Horse, the Rabbit sighs. He longs for this magic called Real but worries it may take a long time.

“The Rabbit sighed. He thought it would be a long time before this magic called Real happened to him. He longed to become Real, to know what it felt like; and yet the idea of growing shabby and losing his eyes and whiskers was rather sad.”

Can we laugh a little at that? How, in our younger days, we longed for something and naively thought it would come without a cost. Or we looked at our mothers and didn’t understand her wrinkles as beautiful, her leggings and make-up-less face as stylish—but now, when I see women like that, mothers like that, I think, oh yes, she is beautiful.

True beauty, character, and virtue rarely come without trials, scars, and shaping. And though it may be uncomfortable to be made into the image of Christ, being formed by love, the love of Christ, it is worth it.

Isn’t that the irony of hope? We trust the Shepherd, we set our gaze on Him, we follow Him, yet we don’t quite love the loss of a whisker or two. And still, the promise of what He says He will do carries us through.

Just as the Rabbit clings to hope, we too hold on during Advent. The people of God longed for their Messiah, the One who would make all things real: who would bring freedom, restoration, and life. And we continue to hope today, waiting for the fulfillment of God’s promises.

Sharing the Hope with Your Children this Advent Week

As you light the first Advent candle this week, take a quiet moment to reflect on the hope that was promised ages ago, and the hope that has been promised to us. And then when you pick up The Velveteen Rabbit and read it with your kids, let it be a doorway into a deeper conversation.

Try these:

• For the older ones, ask them to look for clues to where this Rabbit’s story and longing for hope connects with the Israelites longing for their Messiah. 

• Before you begin reading, ask your child, “I wonder how love might make the Rabbit Real. How do you think God’s love makes us “Real” too?”

• Pause on the Skin Horse’s words and ask your child, “What was the Rabbit’s journey like as he waited to become real? When did he seem hopeful? Where could he have lost hope?”  

• Share a bit of your story—where you’ve seen God’s promises fulfilled. 

Then read or share Isaiah 9:6:

“For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government will be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace”

As you read and reflect together, my prayer is that your children will begin to see that hope isn’t just wishing for something magical—it’s trusting in God’s promises, even when the journey to redemption, to wholeness “real” , feels long and messy. Through your sharing, you’re giving them a glimpse of the greatest story of all: the God who keeps His promises and loves us into life, into Real, into Himself.

Now, don’t be fooled. These picture books may look childish—sweet and perfect for your four-year-old. And they are! They absolutely are. But they are just as perfect for your older children… and you. Yes, you, mom.

“No book is really worth reading at the age of ten which is not equally—and often far more—worth reading at the age of fifty and beyond.” -C.S. Lewis

This mindset is at the heart of Stories That Shape Souls: reading good, beautiful books to our children can feed and shape our own souls just as deeply as it shapes theirs.

How This Advent Picture Book Rhythm Works

Each week we’ll focus on one picture book and one scripture to knit together. Before you dive into conversation and connection with your child, read the weekly post—it will give you the spiritual thread to look for.

Use this as an Advent supplement, or make it your main Advent rhythm. Read with candles glowing, or read quickly before bed. Read it once or read it many times (many times, I hope!).

These four books were chosen because they carry themes that echo Advent: hope, peace, joy, and redemption.

Guide to a Meaningful Advent Reading Rhythm

1. Stretch out the reading over the week: Some books can be read in one sitting; others unfold slowly. A few you’ll want to read straight through—go for it—but keep returning to them throughout the week. I’ll give you suggested pacing, but let it fit your lifestyle and your children’s ages. If you already read at bedtime (or whenever you read), simply use that time—just return to the same book each night instead of choosing something new.

2. Use these books during your normal reading time: You don’t have to add extra work or carve out extra time. Because we are bridging your regular reading time with spiritual formation, this simple advent reading rhythm works for all ages. These books are tools to help Scripture come alive. 

3. Don’t assume your child is too old for a bedtime story: There are countless studies on the importance of reading aloud. Let this practice return to your home. Watch how it nurtures your child’s soul, strengthens your connection, and gives them permission to be a kid again.

4. Keep the eyes of your heart open: The Holy Spirit is always speaking. For me, He often uses these quiet, beautiful stories—perhaps because they still my own heart—to speak in deep, profound, life-shaping ways.

Books

This Advent, we’ll read four picture books that help kids (and adults) enter the wonder of the season.

• Week 1: The Velveteen Rabbit (Margery Williams)

• Week 2: The Little House (Virginia Lee Burton)

• Week 3: The Snowy Day (Ezra Jack Keats)

• Week 4: The Miracle of Jonathan Toomey (Susan Wojciechowski)

(Easily found at your local library.)

My hope is that this Advent is simple, tender, and deeply meaningful for you. I’m not expecting your children to cry—but I won’t be surprised if you do. May these stories shape your soul as you shape theirs.

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It started one morning in what we call “the fireplace room.” It was my first year homeschooling, and my oldest and I were curled up under a blanket reading Charlotte’s Web. She’s a bookish child—diving into a great story comes naturally.

We reached the moment when Wilbur asks Charlotte, “Why did you do all this for me? I don’t deserve it. I’ve never done anything for you.”
Charlotte replies, “You have been my friend. That in itself is a tremendous thing. I wove my webs for you because I liked you.”

As tears filled my eyes, I realized I was hearing the gospel in those lines. I was Wilbur—undeserving, yet saved. Not because of anything I’d done, but because Jesus calls me His friend.

Reading to my children turned into the Holy Spirit reading my heart

As I started reading other classics with my children, these moments happened—every time. The Holy Spirit would suddenly speak to me from the pages of these books. Sometimes loudly, sometimes quietly. And, was it impacting me deeper because I was wrapped up in a story?

Using stories to shape our children’s hearts (and our own)

It made me wonder are classics great and timeless because they illuminate the gospel in some way? These stories weren’t just building my moral imagination—they were building my spiritual one. And if this was going on in me, could I use books and stories, my children already loved and were familiar with, to build their spiritual + gospel imagination?

That’s how Stories That Shape Souls began.

Transform your read aloud time

Each week, I’ll not just share gospel reflections on classic children’s books and the spiritual truths they hold for mom + child, but I’ll guide you on how you can transform your read aloud mornings, your bedtime reading, your children’s school reading assignments. I’ll help you make them launchpads for the gospel to come alive in their hearts.

As a subscriber you’ll get access to my seasonal book clubs, where you’ll learn how to awaken your child’s gospel imagination while reading a new great children’s book. And my first book club is Advent. So subscribe now!

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Stories can open our children’s hearts (and most definitely our own) to God’s love. Let this be a place to connect literature with Scripture, and build a spiritual imagination or gospel imagination that endures.

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