Writing for Children

Truth is a vitally important concept for everyone to grasp. Its substance can be much harder to latch on to, but the importance of the concept is dependent upon the reliability of Truth's plausible presence. Within the Christian tradition (and probably every other school of serious thought), Truth is so strongly identified with the very nature of God that it is intrinsic to our understanding of sanity and all that we may rightly value. That said, fictional tales can sometimes communicate a truth that a scientific explanation cannot explain clearly enough (provided that stories do not pretend to be truths). Even sacred books, such as the Gospels, take the form of stories and do not attempt to communicate scientific truths (although they may contain much historical accuracy and idioms of speech providing true insights into nature and culture). So children need to learn how to extract a moral truth from a carefully constructed narrative in order to help them to navigate the realities of a world around them which is too complicated to comprehend in accurate detail, without being fooled into thinking the story itself is true. This is a reason why so many ridiculous nursery rhymes and poems are useful and loved for teaching children how our language is constructed; it is clear to even a child that only the rules of language usage can be true in these cases. I trust that the following story may be a similar example of how wisdom (a type of truth) can be the subject of communication.

Poppy had been very weary and afraid when she went to bed on the night before her first day at her new school. She found it hard to go to sleep. All she could remember were the uncomfortable feelings in the early days at her first school and the scariness of leaving behind everything that was familiar to her. Eventually she fell asleep but, in the middle of the night, she seemed to wake-up. She thought she was awake but found that she wasn’t tucked-up in bed in her usual place. Instead, she was in a completely strange world. She opened her eyes wider and noticed that everywhere was filled with light, as though the sun was shining brightly. Although she could see no sun to blind her eyes in the deep blue sky, there were thousands of silvery stars that formed a pattern overhead. On the ground, there were many fields all around her, full of people, none of whom she recognized except one. That one was certainly the Lord Jesus, the friend of little children, and he was sitting on a small mound, with a lamb, a rabbit, a hedgehog, and other small animals all around him.

Jesus beckoned to Poppy, and she approached him and sat down with the small animals. From behind the mound Jesus then took what seemed to be a large beach ball, a sphere, with many colours painted upon it, each side appearing different yet describing the terrain of a planet. She wasn't quite sure if it was planet Earth. He gave the globe to Poppy, and she thanked him. She wondered what to do with it, or whether there was anyone to play catch with on a beach somewhere. Jesus seemed to read her mind and gestured to her that she should go and join some other people.

As Poppy walked away from Jesus she noticed that all of the different people were organized into groups. No-one else appeared to be on their own. Also as far as the eyes could see, there was something else about them which was also alike. They all, each and every one of them, had an identical sphere within their grasp, just like Poppy’s. Poppy looked back to see the Lord Jesus and he said to her, “which group of people do you belong with?” She said “I don’t know,” and so Jesus told her to go and see. Obediently, Poppy ventured forth to discover which group of people she belonged with.

The first group of people Poppy came across were all holding their spheres in the same way. The people themselves all looked very different to her, but the sphere of each always looked alike. Whichever way she looked at them as a group, the same part of the sphere was showing. They all moved in the same way, all at the same time, all coordinating how they held and moved the sphere. Poppy tried holding her sphere in the same way, and moving at the same time with the group, but her arms began to ache and she didn’t feel she belonged with this group of people. So she politely said thank you, good bye, and then moved on.

The next group Poppy met were also preoccupied with holding their spheres similarly to each other, but in a slightly different way to the first group. They did not match the first group exactly, but were in many ways very alike. Poppy moved on. The third group Poppy came across also held their spheres similarly to each other, but differently to the first and the second group. She became tired very quickly with these too. She didn't feel as though she belonged with any of them, so she wandered further onwards in search of a group with a different understanding of what it might mean to belong together.

Eventually Poppy found a group who weren’t concerned about which way they held their spheres. Instead, they liked to toss their spheres high into the air. They did this very skilfully, and Poppy found it hard to do the same without being made to feel ashamed. Members of this group believed that their ability to throw and catch was the most important thing that anyone could do, and so their skill needed to be perfect. They believed that if their sphere did not float frequently through the air, or if it fell onto the ground, it would spoil the sphere and damage the vital colours, and this was not allowed. So Poppy picked up her sphere from the dusty ground where she had several times let it fall and carefully wiped it clean. Then she said thank you and good bye, whilst trying not to cry.

Not long afterwards, when Poppy still felt inadequate and upset that her sphere had been damaged somehow, Poppy found a further group who consoled Poppy that the colours were irrelevant and best worn away. They liked to prove this fact to one another by kicking their spheres around, passing them like footballs between themselves, trusting that their sphere would always be returned to them by the people in the group they belonged to. It cheered Poppy a little, to start with, but it was a strange game that Poppy did not find particularly enjoyable. She needed to collect her sphere when it was kicked away from her several times. Also, she didn’t like to kick the spheres that the Lord Jesus had given, because it seemed ungrateful. So Poppy said thank you and good bye, then passed onwards towards another group, feeling increasingly sleepy and tired.

Poppy climbed over a fallen tree to get into a different field where she came across another group who, she could see, liked to sit upon their spheres. They explained to Poppy that, what mattered most to them, was the strength and comfort which the spheres were able to provide them with. Poppy rested with this group for a while, thoughtfully supported by her own sphere. Something still seemed wrong though, she didn't belong, and she thanked these people before wishing them well and leaving them behind.

Next, Poppy found a field where she was all alone, and she lingered there a while, looking around to see which way to move next. She wondered whether, if she remained where she was, if other people would join her and form a group which she could belong to. There appeared to be an infinite number of groups in every direction as she looked towards the horizon. She wondered how they all came to be there. However, Poppy was beginning to lose her own sense of purpose. She could see no other empty fields, and no other people could be seen without a group. Poppy was uncertain about everything and felt that she would get completely lost if she attempted to go any further and meet any more groups. So Poppy asked herself a question, “What do I value most about the sphere that was given to me by Jesus?” She could still, just about see Jesus in the distance, sitting on the mound with the small creatures. She remembered his voice, his words, his eyes, his smile. Then she found her answer. She realised that it was the person who gave the sphere to her that made it important and meaningful to her, and not anything in particular about the sphere itself or what she did with it. So Poppy decided to return to the Lord Jesus and ask him why he had given her the sphere, and what he wished her to do with it. Without Jesus the sphere meant very little to her and she certainly didn’t know where she belonged.

When Poppy returned to the Lord Jesus she explained to him what was troubling her, and Jesus smiled and spoke again. “You are beginning to understand. You belong with me,” he said. Then he took Poppy by the hand, carrying her sphere for her, and led her to a place where there were other children with faces that she couldn’t name at first. This group were keen to welcome Poppy and they all quickly became friends. It was then, when she began to feel as though she really belonged, that Poppy’s vision seemed to fade and she fell asleep again.

In the morning Poppy woke up, tucked into bed in her usual place. She could see her new school uniform hanging in the wardrobe on the far side of the room, ready for her to put on. She could also see her children's bible on her bookshelf with its picture of Jesus on the front cover. He was sitting on a small mound with a lamb, a rabbit, a hedgehog, and other small animals all around him. He seemed to be smiling straight at her. She remembered all of the friends he had introduced her to during the night and she smiled back, wondering if they were all starting at the same school too. Poppy then jumped out of bed and got ready for her first day at her new school, refreshed and ready for whatever was ahead.

To Rosie, it had at first seemed like an ordinary day. She had grown used to lock-down. She had been at school all day with a few friends whose parents were also key workers. They had been talking about the virus and drawing pictures, trying to think what type of character it had. It was puzzling. The virus was very young, and small, it kept jumping from one person to another, and changing its shape so that it was very hard to avoid. How could Rosie draw that? She still hadn‘t finished her picture when it was time to go home. Then the teacher’s telephone rang. It was Rosie’s mother, explaining that she couldn’t collect Rosie because there was a problem at the nursing home where she worked. Dealing with the problem came first. The teacher agreed to accompany Rosie to the nursing home gates, where she could make her own way to the welcome area.

The nursing home was very large, on the southern outskirts of the town where Rosie went to school, about thirty minutes walk away. It was attached to an old castle built onto the side of a large, rocky hill which everyone called a mountain. The patients had originally been housed inside the castle, after it was used as a monastery. Since then, the nursing home had grown bigger, and new, modern buildings had been added to the north side. The castle could still be seen towering above them, casting a heavy shadow.

Rosie had visited the nursing home a few times but she wasn’t supposed to be there during lock-down. Rosie remembered that it was a long way from the gate to the front door, with lots of bends, corners, and choices about which path to take. The main path was wide and clear though. However, not everything was as she expected to find it.

Rosie walked from the gate, down the drive and through the car park, then noticed a problem. “Is this why my mummy couldn’t collect me from school today?” she thought. The nursing home and its far-reaching grounds were usually very quiet but on this day she could see crowds of people gathered around the buildings. They were on the lawns, the terraces, and on the footpaths, making it hard to keep two metres away. As she approached the door to the welcome area she looked in through the windows and could see crowds of people in the hallways, the dining room and the corridors too. They were mainly quite young people who seemed very excited. They were also being very loud, and not quiet as they were supposed to be. Not everyone was wearing a facemask either, but they were not doing anything else that seemed especially frightening. Rosie could see happy smiles on their faces, which she liked. Before entering through the main door, Rosie stopped, took a deep breath, and said a silent prayer, asking that everything would be alright. She could remember a special prayer for healing that her mother had taught her when she visited the nursing home before.

“Almighty God, who has a care

to tend the sick souls everywhere,

I ask your strength to bring health and well-being

to the captives of maladies who need help and set-freeing.”

Rosie was wearing her favourite flower-patterned facemask, but she still tried to avoid the people as she moved through the entrance hall towards the welcome desk. She looked for a receptionist to talk to but there wasn’t one in sight. Instead, a few people who looked like the gardeners were gathered at the main desk, and they were playing with the personal announcement system. They took no notice of her. There were no empty seats where she could wait for her mummy either. So Rosie decided to find her mother without any help. She moved, unnoticed, towards some double doors that she thought led to her mother’s office. There was a paper sign above the door saying “Hope Ward”, and she definitely wasn't supposed to go into the wards, but this was where she had seen her mummy come out from when she had waited there before.

Hope Ward was a very big room, more like her school hall than a hospital ward, but there were three rows of beds, two down the sides and one in the middle, with quite wide passages in between. She couldn’t see her mummy there so she hurried to the far end as quickly as possible, avoiding nurses who were running the opposite way. Rosie turned, wondering where the nurses were running to, and saw that the glass doors to the north of the ward were being pressed on by crowds of people. They were chanting loudly. Suddenly, someone managed to open a door and they all started to move inside. The atmosphere inside the ward changed. As it filled up with more and more people it felt like a birthday party. Then, loud music began playing on the personal announcement system, and the people, who were now filling up the spaces between the beds, suddenly began to dance and sing.

Many of the elderly people had appeared motionless, and possibly dead, as Rosie walked by. However, the music woke-up most of them, prompting them to look up and see the people near them. They seemed to recognise the ones who had moved to their side, and they laughed with delight, their eyes sparkling. Many threw back the blankets and immediately climbed out of their beds. They began dancing with the intruders. Then they all began hugging each other. Rosie smiled when she realised they were families being reunited again after many days, weeks and months of being apart. She had never seen anything like this before and she thought it was lovely. The trouble was, she knew that it wasn’t allowed during lock-down and it all seemed very strange.

When Rosie heard sirens in the distance getting louder and louder, then flashing lights became visible outside the glass doors, Rosie began to feel much more uncomfortable. Soon the blue, spinning lights were sending patterns flickering across the walls and ceiling of Hope Ward, making it look even more like a party, but Police officers quickly began to move into the room through all the doors which they opened wide to let lots of chilly, fresh air in. This didn’t immediately stop the people singing, hugging, and dancing around the beds but Rosie now imagined, like a flash of lightning, that the police were there to arrest them all. Young and old, staff and intruder, and a child who wasn’t supposed to be there either. Perhaps her mummy would be arrested too? Rosie was confused because the party had looked good, almost like a miracle of some sort. Added to which, she was lost and it would’ve been a good idea to ask a police officer to help her find her mummy. There was lock-down though, and the tricky little virus could be jumping from person to person, hiding anywhere. The partying behaviour wasn’t safe, and she wasn’t allowed to be in a nursing home, especially not a ward, because she was a child. She had been told that these were now crimes and it was the police officers’ job to catch and punish people who broke the law.

What was Rosie going to do?

Rosie decided to run. She quickly looked behind her to see if there was a way to escape. She saw an open door into an office, which looked like a good place to run to, and there she could even see her mother’s handbag tucked under one of the desks. She sped to the door as fast as she could, then into the office where she expected to see her mother. She was not in the office though. No-one was there. Although there was another way out through a heavy, old door on the southern wall of the office. It was wide open and she could avoid running straight back into the hands of the police if she went through it. Rosie remembered her mother telling her about a door that was kept locked. It was the way into the old building, the castle, which they didn’t use much any more. Her mother must be inside the castle today. Today, this very strange day, the door was wide open and a strong light was shining through it. Rosie walked across the big threshold and into the castle where she saw a round hall with stairs and a corridor with many more doors on one side. The light was shining down the stairs so warmly that Rosie began climbing them, expecting to find her mother there.

Rosie climbed, and climbed, and climbed the stairs, trying to find the place where the light was coming from. Every now and then there was a landing with a door or two, which were locked or had dark, empty rooms with scary views through windows that looked down a long, long way. Rosie kept on climbing up, and up, and up, into the light. Rosie soon felt very tired, as though she had climbed to the top of a huge mountain. It had been a long day and she had already walked far in order to reach the nursing home. So she was relieved when the stairs ended at a triangular landing with only one door, which was open, and through which the light shone especially brightly. Rosie’s eyes were also very weary, and she had been crying a bit with fright. She found it hard to keep both of her eyes open in the bright light, but she squinted and peered in. She saw what looked like a small hospital room with one bed at the back, on the eastern wall. There were also two windows, facing each other. One was in the south wall and the other opening out to the north. The light of the sun shone brilliantly into the tower through the south window, filling the space all around Rosie with blinding beams of light.

Then, Rosie could see two people who looked like nurses near to the bed, standing in the light. They walked towards her saying, “You must be very tired. Here, take some rest.” They invited her to lie down on the bed, which felt so soft, warm and comfortable in the beams of sunlight. So safe and supportive to her body, that she soon fell fast asleep. As she slept she dreamed of flowers, and beautiful gardens, and playing with birds who chirped merrily into her ears. The more she rested though, the more she began to remember the things that she had been running away from. The elderly people in Hope Ward downstairs, the merry crowds, the police, the virus, her teacher whom she had walked away from at the nursing home gate, and the school at the end of a long day thinking about the deadly virus. She was trying to find her mother so that she could go home. Her fears began to wake her again, like dismal shadows blocking out the sweet dreams and sunshine. She began to speak out loud, “What has happened to all those old people?” “What has happened to the young people?” “What has happened to the people who work here?” And “What has happened to my mummy?” However, every time a gloomy fear entered her mind, she was comforted. At first, the comfort just felt like the sunshine on her face making her smile. Then, it seemed more like the presence of a person very close to her but she couldn’t imagine who it was. Then she noticed that she could hear someone actually saying, “It is all better now,” and “You need not worry, they will all be fine,” and, “You will be happy when you see how things are now.” Who was talking to her?

Rosie opened her eyes expecting to find the nurses still there sitting beside the bed, but there was no sign of anybody. The room didn’t look so much like a hospital room either. It was stonier and more cave-like with its rocky walls. Rosie felt pangs of concern again as she wondered who was speaking to her in what looked like a scary castle cell. Again, the voice whispered into her ear, very gently. Rosie looked more carefully at the things that were close to her. Where could she hear a whisper from? The voice seemed to come from the pillow beneath her head. She noticed that every time she said something the corner of the pillow started to move, and changed shape, so that part of it looked like an ear that bent towards her and twitched slightly as though it was listening to her. Rosie began to feel a little more frightened and gasped. Again, the voice spoke in reply. As it began to do so, Rosie saw another part of the pillow where there were a couple of small creases, closer to her ear. The creases grew bigger and changed shape as she watched, until they looked like lips, and a mouth which moved carefully to speak the words she could hear.

Rosie found this extremely strange, but there it was before her eyes. The words were so comforting and the bed was so cosy and warm that she still didn’t feel completely frightened, as part of her mind thought she ought to. She was increasingly curious though. As she opened her eyes much wider, focused them better, and looked more intently at the pillow, she could see that the pillow appeared to be made of stone, and not fabric. The bed also. It was like a stone seat or shelf built into the wall and not a hospital bed at all. This was startling. Even though Rosie felt as comfortable as she did on a springy mattress with soft pillows at home, the truth was not so. Rosie climbed down from the bed and stood back so that she could see more carefully.

As Rosie studied the pillow and bed that she had been sleeping on, she noticed its shape change again. This was in a different way though. The mouth and the ear on the pillow-like bit were caught up in a pattern of sprouting crystals that emerged from the rock. They resembled chunky octagonal stems which then flowered and grew into a bouquet, until they took on the shape of a head with lots of hair, much like a lion’s mane. Then a face began to appear. It was the face of a very elderly person, one of great age, who looked straight at her. It was an extremely kind face. An elderly but firm body lifted itself up and out of the stone slab, sitting up a little. The eyes and the lips and the lines of the cheeks were all smiling radiantly at Rosie. Unfaltering, stony and grey, they reflected the sunshine which still shone through the south window and filled the whole room with light.

Rosie then realized that she was in the presence of the holiest one. This was the person who heard all her prayers. It was God speaking to her through the timeless rocks of the earth and mountain. Rosie carefully lowered herself onto her knees and bowed in awe. The face and voice were one and the same; comforting, reassuring, very close and loving. Rosie thanked the ancient one with all her heart as she backed out of the room. As she gently retreated across the hall towards the descending stairs, the one of great age sank back into the stone, which slowly returned to its original shape. Just a presence of love and smiles remained by her side, with the sunshine, as she hurried away.

Rosie followed the beams of light where they sped down the steps. It was easier climbing down than going up. She could also see very clearly now. It seemed like no time at all before she reached the open door in the hallway and walked into the office again. The heavy, castle door closed behind her, on its own, and locked with a deep click. Just a small ray of light could be seen shining through the keyhole. Rosie’s mother was there at her desk, “What was that?” she said as she turned her head and saw her daughter standing there, “Oh good, it’s you! The problem has been sorted out. Vaccines and medicines have begun to work their magic. The excitement is over for today. So, it’s time for us to go home.” She put her jacket on, adjusted her own and Rosie’s face-masks, picked up her bag from beneath the desk and walked with Rosie through Hope Ward, which was so very different now.

There was still some music playing on the personal announcement system, but it was gentle and on a low volume so that birds could also be heard singing in the garden outside. Most of the beds were empty now, waiting for someone to dismantle and wheel them back into a store. Several patients were awake, two with a relative sitting nearby talking quietly whilst gathering their belongings together into a bag. Rosie’s mother told her that there was space for them now in a proper ward, where it wasn’t yet possible for them to return home. One old man slept, his chest rising and falling noticeably, as he slightly snored. Cleaners were busy and every surface looked disinfected, polished and clean, free of all fingerprints. Nurses and porters quietly tiptoed around the patients, looking concerned and busy. Rosie felt happy about all that she saw there.

A receptionist was at the welcome desk as Rosie and her mother went by. As they passed by she gestured, with a hush, so that they knew the chapel was in use. Its door was open and the shape of a dead body was just visible as his family stood nearby, quietly crying and looking at the flower arrangements that made the chapel look beautiful. The dining room was almost empty, with shiny tables and open windows that let fresh air gush in. A police officer sat there, quietly eating a dried fruit and cereal bar with a half-filled bottle of water in front of him. He kept putting information into his mobile phone and reporting back to the police station. Rosie hid behind her mother, clinging onto her coat and bag. “Rosie, it’s alright. We have a good reason for you to be here with me,” her mother said.“You found her then?” the policeman said to Rosie’s mother, with a smile.

The gardens were still unusually busy with patients being pushed along the paths in wheelchairs. Everyone was wearing a mask now, and keeping a careful distance. Every now and then a van or ambulance would pull up and a patient would be wheeled inside and waved goodbye as they sped away on their journey home. The paths, lawns and flower beds looked well-kept and colourful without any signs of being trampled on. The nursing home, towering castle, and little mountain behind, were silhouetted in the softening, evening sunlight.

As Rosie’s mother drove out of the gates, Rosie looked through the side window at the wing mirror and saw the pink-tinged light still shining through the topmost window of the tower. When they soon drove along a leafy avenue which ran through protected woodlands, she was surprised to notice the wizened face of God emerge again, this time in some of the largest tree trunks along the road, telling her “Do not fear.” “All is well.” “I am near.” “I am real and not a dream.” Rosie kept very quiet, and felt it was best not to ask her mummy if she could see the face too as she was concentrating on driving.

Then Rosie saw that wise, old face yet again, in the ripples of a lake that they drove past. Then she noticed it rise up and smile at her through the crops and flowers of a meadow on the side of a gently sloping hill. The one of great age stayed with her throughout her short homeward journey, reassuring her all the way.

When they reached home, the back door of their cottage reminded Rosie of the castle door in her mother’s office. When she stood inside the kitchen and looked at it, she could see the light shine through the keyhole in the same way. Rosie was exceptionally quiet but her mother did not seem to notice. Her mother put her jacket and Rosie's coat in the cloaks cupboard, put their face-masks in the laundry bag by the utility room door, then went back into the kitchen where she switched on the radio. They listened to the news announcer say that yet another thousand elderly people had died that day, but the most recent vaccination programme had enabled many hundreds of thousands of patients, all across the country, to safely return home to their families. There was a mood of rejoicing spreading across the land. Rosie saw her mother shed a tear as she began to prepare their tea, and Rosie stepped outside into the garden with very mixed feelings of comfort and insecurity.

She mulled over her feelings in the cool, evening breeze. It was confusing because people were still dying, but the crowds had been allowed to celebrate a little and break the law on this day because they were getting better. This day was drawing to a close now, and she didn’t know what the next day would bring. Would people stop dancing and would the police enforce the law again tomorrow? After all, they might start to get worse again if they weren't careful. She looked up into the sky and saw a large cloud to the south which was slowly drifting towards her. She feared that it represented approaching trouble. It looked ominous, like thunder and rain. As she stared at the cloud its dark centre changed. Pink-tinged silver and grey colours emerged and swirled around before her eyes until, once again, she saw the face of the one of great age looking down on her, smiling, dispelling all her fears.

Rosie felt strangely wide awake, well and robust enough after her adventurous day to withstand a thunderstorm, should the Lord decide to send lightning down from the heavens. Yet, she imagined that she could hear her mummy calling her indoors because it was cold and time for tea, and she didn't have a raincoat on, so she skipped back to the kitchen door. What she definitely heard though, as she looked back from the kitchen doorstep, was loud and clear. A voice from above said, “Fear not. I will always be here. I am with you always. In all times.” She gave the face a big, loving, smile in response, then slipped into the kitchen again and shut the door.