But first a quick caveat about children's books and our imperfect world. Some of these books were controversial when I was reading them as a child and more of them have been added to the controversial side since. While I don't have a problem mentioning them as books that were helpful to my daughter and me, I also want to acknowledge that children's books should be read with care, discernment, wise timing, and plenty of discussion.
1. On the Banks of Plum Creek by Laura Ingalls Wilder
This first one actually predates Oliver’s death and helped my children in a different hard time. This was probably my first encounter with reading a children’s book aloud where I had chosen the book just because, and God used it to perfectly speak to my children when they needed it. "On the Banks of Plum Creek" is the fourth book in the Little House on the Prairie Series. I read it to Oliver and my daughter when they had just turned four and six. At the time, my husband was deployed to Kuwait and Iraq for seven months. In the story Pa also has to leave Laura and the rest of his family for a job after their wheat crop was destroyed by grasshoppers. My kids related to missing a father, being brave, and leaning on your family in hard times. Laura’s experience helped them not feel alone in their struggles, gave words to their longing, and reminded them a sweet reunion was coming.
In the corner Jack suddenly made a glad sound, as if he understood her. He ran to the door. He stood up against the door, scratching and whining and waggling. Then Laura heard, faintly whistling through the wind, “When Johnny Comes Marching Home.”
“It’s Pa! Pa!” She shrieked and tore the door open and ran pell-meal down through the windy dark with Jack bounding ahead.
“Hullo, half-pint!” Pa said, hugging her tight. “Good dog, Jack!” Lamplight streamed from the door and Mary was coming, and Ma and Carrie. “How’s my little one?” Pa asked, giving Carrie a toss. “Here’s my big girl,” and he pulled Mary’s braid. “Give me a kiss, Caroline.”
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Growing up I hardly ever read fantasy books. I read too fast and never took the time to create the imaginary world in my head required to truly understand fantasy. Oliver and Leah both loved fantasy though, and I found I enjoyed listening to audiobooks and reading aloud fantasy. For the first time, I was able to enjoy the Chronicles of Narnia series. The book from the series that stands out to me the most in terms of dealing with grief is "The Voyage of the Dawn Treader". In this novel, Lucy and Edmond travel with Prince Caspian, his crew, and their cousin, Eustace, on the ship the Dawn Treader. They encounter many adventures and trials as they seek the lost Lords of Narnia. Without giving away the end of the story, one of the characters is called onward, while the other characters have to head back. I distinctly remember sitting on the couch reading it aloud to Oliver and my daughter the spring after my sister, MaryJo, died. Oliver ended up having to read the end aloud because I couldn't stop crying. Children's books have been good for me because they take me (and my children) to a place we might not go otherwise. I didn't want to even think about or acknowledge the pain of saying good-bye to MaryJo and the challenges of doing life without her, but I needed to, and "The Voyage of the Dawn Treader" helped me do that.
"Caspian, dear," said Lucy. "You knew we'd have to go back to our own world sooner or later."
"Yes," said Caspian with a sob, "but this is sooner."
3. Where the Mountain Meets the Moon by Grace Lin
Another fantasy novel I read with Oliver and my daughter after MaryJo passed, "Where the Mountain Meets the Moon" is the story of a girl who goes on a journey to help her family and finds the secrets of gratitude, contentment, pleasant memories, and good fortune. This book served as a reminder that the lessons which helped me in past trials would continue to help me in this impossibly hard grief as well.
"No," Minli said, and suddenly memories rushed through her. She heard the buffalo boy's laughter as he refused her money, saw the king's generous smile as he willingly parted with his family's treasure, and remembered Da-A-Fu's last words to her. "Why would we want to change our fortune?" they had said. She had shaken her head in confusion then, but now, finally, Minli understood all of it. Fortune was not a house full of gold and jade, but something much more. Something she already had and did not need to change.
4. Indian Captive: The Story of Mary Jamison by Lois Lenski
I loved this book as a child and read it again and again. It was the first longer book that Oliver read to himself, one slow page at the time before bed, a stuffed animal named Snickers holding the pages open while he used a bookmark to mark his line slowly down the page. He loved it as well, and right before Oliver died, my daughter asked me to read it to her. We were in the middle of it when Oliver passed away. "Indian Captive" is the story of a young girl who is taken captive by Indians and adopted into a new family. It recounts her challenges adapting to a new culture, learning a new language, and missing her family. Several times throughout the book she has to make difficult decisions about how she will act in the face of loss, adversity, and injustice. Finishing it after Oliver died was torture. The difficult themes, rather than the interesting setting, took center stage for me this time. And yet my daughter wanted me to finish, so I did. And it helped me wrestle with questions I had instead of pushing the questions away. And I was better for wrestling.
"But Blue Jay grows fast!" protested Molly. "I won't need a burden-strap much longer. Soon he will be too large for the baby frame. When he goes all day long on his own two feet, I will have no burden to carry."
"Your two sisters will see to that," replied Earth Woman. "They will give you a burden frame instead of a baby frame. They will see that you carry game or cooking-utensils or bark or skins. They will never let you run idle. But a beautiful burden-strap can lighten a burden, no matter how heavy."
5. Caddie Woodlawn by Carol Ryrie Brink
I initially didn't include this one, telling myself I only wanted to include it because it was my favorite book as a child. Then I remembered reading it aloud with my daughter after Oliver died, even though we had both read it a number of times by that point. The sweet, familiar story of family and adventure was soothing to us in a way that nothing else was. My daughter had a profound moment of not feeling so alone in her sorrow and questions during one scene when Caddie sits and thinks about what life might have been like if her sister, Mary, had lived.
With her hands full of flowers, she skirted around the farm through the woods until she came to the hill north of the house. There she could look down and see house and barnyard spread out beneath her, and Robert Ireton spading the garden and never guessing that someone watched him from the hill. Here in the edge of the woods on the north hill was little Mary's grave. Father had made a little white picket fence around it, to show that this was no longer woods but belonged to little Mary. It was hard to remember little Mary now. She had come with them from Boston, but she had died so soon and gone to rest on the north hill. No one missed her now, and it was hard to imagine that she would have been near Hetty's age, if she had lived. But sometimes it was nice to come here and sit beside her, because it was so peaceful on this hill and one could see so far and think far thoughts.
6. Little Women by Louisa May Alcott
I read "Little Women" for the first time in fifth grade. It might have been my first experience of a main character dying in a book. I remember being taken aback and surprised. I couldn't imagine why someone would write a book where the sick character doesn't get better for good. I read the book again probably once a year throughout middle school and high school. Each time I understood and learned more about life and death, grief and joy. I have read it several times as an adult and twice aloud to Leah. Each time I learn again from the characters' examples of living with acceptance, sadness, joy, and grace.
But someone did come and help her, though Jo didn't recognize her good angels at once, because they wore familiar shapes, and used the simple spells best fitted to poor humanity.
7. The Harry Potter Series by J.K. Rowling
I could probably write a whole blog post about how the Harry Potter books helped me in my grief. I didn't read them as a child, but I read the first one during summer break in college and looked forward to reading them all with my kids when they were old enough. I didn't get that chance with Oliver, but my husband, daughter, and I have listened to the series on audiobook together several times. Each book contains nuggets of truth about learning to live with loss (much of this is missing from the movie versions). Some of the main themes we see throughout are how death isn't something to be avoided or feared and how death isn't the end both for the person who has died and for the person who is missing someone who has died. The captivating adventures and characters in the books helped these truths sink in for me in a way that nothing else has.
The Potters smiled and waved at Harry and he stared hungrily back at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he was hoping to fall right through it and reach them. He had a powerful kind of ache inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness.
I will say that as a Christian, these books were missing something as well. There is no God or Jesus represented in the books like there is with Aslan in Chronicles of Narnia. While characters triumph over evil and there is discussion of redemption and restoration, choosing to be good enough or dying for a noble cause seems to be what gives a character hope of life beyond death. I'd rather trust in Jesus!
Romans 6:23 For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.
This was a more recent read for me. As the title says, "Sweep" is a story about a girl and the monster she befriends and cares for. Nan works as a chimney sweep in historical London. The perfect amount of fantasy and mystery are mixed into the historical details. It is a story of overcoming and friendship, which contained timeless wisdom that stuck with me long after reading. Here are two quotes from the book I keep on my phone and reread occasionally as I continue to process my grief and fear:
“I’m afraid,” Nan said. “Afraid he... Afraid I...”She shook her head. “What if I can’t protect him?”
“That’s what it is to care for a person,” Toby said. There was not even a hint of mocking in his voice. “If you’re not afraid, you’re not doing it right.”
AND
The Sweep sat up. Strands of hay stuck to his hair. “Who says I’m never afraid? Of course I am afraid. You can’t have courage without fear, any more than you can have a ray of light without shadows.” He sounded more awake now. “Some things are frightening, and only a fool wouldn’t be afraid of them.” He scratched the back of his head. The girl wondered if he was thinking about the charity men, too. “Courage is feeling fear and facing it head-on.”
After countless false starts, I wrote the first chapter almost exactly as it appears in the final book. With “The Girl and Her Sweep,” I knew at once that I had finally found my story - that it was not just about a girl and her monster, but also about a parent losing a child. As exciting as this discovery was, it was also daunting. At the time, I had no children of my own. My own childhood was even safe and idyllic. How could I possibly write about such things with the wisdom and honesty they required? I resolved to put the story away until I was able to tell it right...
Our youngest child, Hazel Sparrow, has proven the most crucial piece of the puzzle. She was born with Down Syndrome and a severe congenital heart defect that required open-heart surgery and countless medical interventions. At any other point in history, Hazel would likely not have lived to see her first birthday. She is not a healthy two-year-old. I wouldn’t wish the experience on any parent. But as with much suffering, wisdom followed. I had to make the choice to love someone who I knew could very likely break my heart beyond repair. It was living through this experience that made me finally able to tell Nan’s story.
I am so thankful for the light and truth my family has found in these children's books, and pray one of them might be a help to someone else as they walk through suffering. Have you had the experience of a book unexpectedly giving you some wisdom that you desperately needed?
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