Put a picture in a young child’s mind. It’s there to stay. If not the actual image, a reflection of that image. We live in a world full of images, some are light, like rainbows in the sun, dogs wagging wet tails, and the sound of wind in the trees. But there are too many dark images as well. I want to have some say in which pictures, which thoughts, fill a child’s mind. That is why I desire to write books to children. Let them read about holding hands with dad while walking along the beach. Let them contemplate who made the universe and what lies beyond it. Let them make friends with the characters on the pages and in between the words. And maybe help them to see a little about who they are and who they are to become.
But if my desire is to write, yours (you parents out there) should be to read. Read to them. Now, and often. But not just anything. Content is critical. A child need not have 20 different books on how to count to 10. Maybe a couple. Don’t just fill their minds up with facts. Fill their hearts up too. Show them love, in word and deed.
Christ wanted the children to come to him. I’m sure they hugged him, sat on his lap, and whispered in his ear. And I’m sure he hugged back, tickled underarms and soothed scratches. Maybe he didn’t have too many books on hand, but I’m sure he told them stories. That’s what I want too. I don’t want to write a book. I want to tell a story.