One thing about home school I despaired giving up was reading to my kids…until my husband reminded me it just might be possible to still read to them before bed every night. I love reading to my kids maybe because I love reading. I also love how good literature sparks conversations we might never have otherwise.
Like the time our home school curriculum told us to read The Door in the Wall by Marguerite de Angeli a month after we learned two of the families we were closest to would move…and we would stay. The Door in the Wall is the tale of a crippled and abandoned boy rescued and taken in by a priest in the Middle Ages. This boy with real suffering both emotional and physical must find a way. The guidance from the priest? “Thou has only to follow the wall far enough and there will be a door in it.”
My kids, one in particular, looked at their future and saw a big wall. Life as they’d known it would change and the future contained real challenges. The encouragement to hope and to keep following the wall…to run your hand down the wall…to stay close to, even touch, the challenge, suffering, and pain while looking for a way through resounded inside us. I had no good vocabulary to draw their hearts into the light of conversation about all this transition in our lives but this book provided the means to talk and I am grateful. For the other child, the wall is what keeps us from God and the door is Jesus. Needless to say, I recommend this book often.
After sitting on a shelf for a couple of years, my daughter recently discovered and devoured Tiger Rising by Kate DiCamillo. Having received the book as a gift from a thoughtful friend, it sat on our adult bookshelf (by the way, what do you call places that you store things for adults but that are not profane…I really wonder this!) after I read and pondered it. When she pulled it down and began raving and telling me to read it to her brothers I felt compelled to understand what touched her so deeply.
The first chapter describes a boy with tremendous loss in his life that he will not allow himself to grieve. He stuffs his thoughts into an imaginary suitcase and mentally sits on them so they won’t escape. He has every reason to cry buckets but not even the mean bullies at school can squeeze a tear out of him. Hmmm.
As we continue to grieve losses, I see what my daughter sees. It is the time in grief where it is tempting to just stuff in the sadness and pain and just not remember what Halloween was like last year and the year before that and the year before that. It would be so easy to not talk about our old friends even as we make and deepen new friendships. It seems it would be easier to not remember but the need to avoid the pain begins to need something bigger and fiercer to keep all of it in.
In a way, we all as a family need these books to talk about the doors and the walls and the memories and the tigers in our lives. The books mediate our conversation better sometimes than a one-on-one coffee date. Something about dialoguing our struggles through the lens of someone else brings up what’s underneath in a way my efforts at direct assault fail.
So, we keep reading and we keep talking. I don’t know what my kids will treasure about their childhood but this is one aspect I will treasure.