This is the first of my guest authors. Laura Alary, a Canadian author, writes spiritually
rich, secular picture books that I only recently discovered. This is why they
are not in my PBT Picture Book a Day for
a Year list. Explore her books which are easily available on the internet. They will encourage meaningful conversations
in your family or in your ministry.
Welcome to PBT, Laura!
Picture books helped
me recover from eight years as a doctoral student.
After writing and
defending my thesis, I felt like the little lime tree my mom tried to grow in
our home. The poor plant struggled along in the unfamiliar climate, finally
managed to produce one lime, but promptly died from the effort.
Reading picture
books—along with mythology and fairy tales—helped me recapture my old love of
words. They were simple (I thought) and would allow my mind to rest and relax. But
in their simplicity lay the power to present big ideas in a concentrated form,
distilling important things to their essence. Instead of being a mindless
pastime, reading picture books stretched my heart and spirit in ways I could
not have imagined.
When my first
child was born, I turned to picture books to help me with the great task of shaping
a human life. I wanted my child to be curious about the world, full of wonder,
open-minded, empathetic, and fearless about asking questions. Above all, I
wanted him to be kind and compassionate.
So we went to the
library…
Frog and Toad and George
and Martha taught us about friendship.
With The Big Red Lollipop we talked about
revenge, forgiveness, and reconciliation.
Bagels
from Benny made us wonder how we can make the world a better place.
In Big and Small, Room for All we journeyed from the subatomic to the
cosmic—all in five words—and marveled at our place in the universe.
I loved the
journey and the big questions we were asking together. But there were some
things I could not find addressed in picture books—things surfacing from my own
background in theology and scripture—so I began to write my own.
My first effort
was Is That Story
True? Years of listening to people argue about the historicity of
biblical narratives had left me feeling that everyone was missing the point:
What do these stories mean? What are
they calling us to be and do? And how did so many adults never consider that the
truth and power of stories does not depend on historical accuracy? I wanted to
start the conversation with children to spare them the anxious disputes about
what really happened so they could instead find truth in its many forms.
Next came Jesse’s Surprise
Gift. During Lent—the six weeks of preparation leading up to
Easter—I was hoping to help my children enter into the rather heavy themes
which characterize this season: sacrifice, death, and self-emptying. I
remembered an Indian folk tale about a young boy who continually lets go of
what he has, trading one item for another, eventually getting the drum he has
been wanting. Aspects of this story brought to mind the description of Christ
in Philippians 2 where he does not cling to privilege but empties himself. After
meditating on this connection for a while, I wrote a modern parable about how sometimes
the act of letting go—not clinging to what is ours—will open us to receive an
even greater gift. Neither explicitly Lenten nor Christian, Jesse’s Surprise Gift, can nevertheless
be read as an expression of the paradox of losing one’s life in order to find
it.
As my children got
older, their questions got tougher. After hearing violent bible stories, my son
asked why God would tell people to kill each other. Such questions left me
speechless, wondering about our sacred stories—especially how they affect the
way we treat others. If our stories don’t help heal our fragmented, aching
world—if they make it worse—then something is very wrong. I imagined a story that
included everyone and considered how the world would be if all people saw
themselves as fundamentally connected. That is how Mira and the Big Story came into
being.
Victor’s Pink Pyjamas also deals with how we see each other. A friend was concerned
when her son wanted to paint his room pink—his favourite colour. She was torn
between giving her son freedom to follow his heart and trying to protect him
from the judgments of others. I asked my children what they thought. They
wanted to know why pink was
considered a girl colour. I was struck by that why. How many of us really stop to question our own opinions or examine
our beliefs? In my story, Victor wears his pink pyjamas bravely. Even more
bravely, he challenges: “Think about it.”
How Do I Pray for Grandpa? explores how our images of God affect how we pray. A few
summers ago, my dad had a stroke and was diagnosed with a rare blood disorder. Meanwhile,
my sister-in-law began treatment for breast cancer. While I fretted about how to
help my children respond to these family crises and prepare for possible heart-break,
the children showed me the way. My daughter “put her love into” a heart-shaped
stone found on the beach and gave it to her aunt to keep in her purse so “she
would not feel alone”. All the children drew prayers that Grandpa could put
around his hospital bed to remind him that he was surrounded by love. Their prayers
were about presence rather than
results. This startled me. I was taught to pray by asking God for what I
wanted. I wondered: What if we stopped telling God what ought to happen or praying
with specific expectations? How would this change our image of God?
My dad, an
electrical engineer, laughingly calls me a “step-down transformer” since I like
to express big ideas in a simpler form. I am grateful for the many writers who
do this so elegantly. I work hard to improve my craft because, as Old Alfred
says in Mira and
the Big Story, stories can stretch our minds and hearts, making us
bigger on the inside. When this happens, the world really does become a better
place.
Laura Alary
