The Fall of Restiny: A Fantasy Ballad of Love and Vengeance

Posted on by Bob Richley
Armored knight on horseback approaching a glowing castle through a moonlit forest

The Fall of Restiny

Good King Restiny was a man of great renown

His gifts of love and selfless deeds knew no true bound.

Among both men and elves, none other wore that crown.

His heart was pure

His wisdom sure

His ways secure

Restiny

Mighty King and lord

Valiant with the sword

Cherished and adored

Restiny

He believed that valor was doing what was right

And great power did not come best by fear nor might.

Virtue and love made his very spirit ignite.

The valor of the elves

Is love beyond ourselves —

A love that reaches others,

As though they were his brothers.

Love and virtue,

Noble and true,

Always abide

In these your guide.

The king knew the elfin songs since he was a boy.

The friendship and teachings of the elves were his joy,

Wisdom which such good and prosperous kings employ.

Riches are never found in gold

True wealth is neither bought nor sold

Charity yields a hundredfold

True friends remain when you are old.

Value what you know to be true

Never let the darkness subdue

Let virtue be what you pursue

And your love will always renew.

King Restiny’s pride and joy was his firstborn son.

The king loved, cherished, and adored his little one.

For his son, there was nothing he would not have done.

My heart is calling

Tears are falling

For my son

My One

Love

Learn from me

What should be

What is true

Virtue Do

When his beloved young son became severely ill,

He sought healing with every ounce of his will,

By every potion, charm, and healer’s skill.

My first son is dying.

My spirit is crying.

My heart is kneeling.

Where do I find healing

For my beloved young one,

For my precious first son?

Within the healing pond

Of Elfin King Elmond

In the land of Restore

Upon the eastern shore

Healing is found for men and elves

If their love is beyond themselves.

Restiny began the treacherous journey east

Not fearing goblin, troll, wizard, nor dragon beast

Firm hope drove him onward. He could never be ceased.

Driven to find the healing pond

Of gracious Elfin King Elmond,

Restiny pressed on, once more,

To see his firstborn son restored.

Though goblins pierced with poisoned darts,

Striking deep at Restiny’s heart,

He would not be stopped in his quest

Nor would he stop to take a rest.

Hysteric, Restiny reached the eastern shore,

Where healing waters shimmered — the Pools of Restore —

And there, his lifeless son held tight in his embrace,

He begged the ancient pool for one last saving grace.

Our pond has the power to mend,

Even when life is near its close,

But it can never quite transcend

Death, for death is where life goes.

My son, my son, my son,

My dearest, my beloved one,

Your life had just begun,

Too soon your race was run.

It was there that King Restiny was driven mad

Because of the intense, passionate love he had

For his firstborn son who had died along the way.

King Restiny’s poisoned heart swore the elves would pay.

His heart was impure

His wisdom unsure

His ways insecure

Restiny

Mighty king and lord

Valiant with the sword

Feared and abhorred

Restiny

Further Reading:

One in a series of fantasy poems.

Discovering Pixies and Dreams in ‘The Gift of the Emerald Ring’
An Epic Fantasy Poem of Elves, War, and Destiny
The Great War: Men vs. Elves in Elfin Lore ~ Poem

An Epic Fantasy Poem of Elves, War, and Destiny

Posted on by Bob Richley
Enchanted forest lake with a glowing chapel among trees and mountains

The Battle of Elmond

Among the chronicles of old 
A tragic elfin tale is told.

How the Pools of King Elmond, 
Which held the mystic healing pond, 
Became in time the Pools of Restiny, 
When men rose up to claim their destiny.

Long before the war of men and elves,
Beyond waves crashing upon rocky selves,
Its swirling waters, calm and grand,
Gave healing at King Elmond's hand.

Passive, peaceful elves of Restore 
Dwelt in peace along the eastern shore,
And shared the pool's slow healing grace 
With man and elf, from every race.

In search of fame and destiny,
From the west came King Restiny, 
Whose men desired that grace for their own, 
And marched to make its power known.

With iron chains, with spear and sword, 
In fearsome hordes his men were poured
Across the land in search of fame, 
To bind the pool unto his name.

The peaceful elves would not take arms 
Against the men who sought their charms; 
They had no wish for war or strife, 
Only to heal, to tend to life.

Their wizards called on spirits old
To hold the line against the men so bold, 
But spells alone could not defend 
Each elf from war's uncaring end.

By blade, and by the mystic spell,
Both men and elves alike, they fell, 
Until the pool of Elmond's hand
Lay drowned in blood upon the land.

The Pools of peaceful King Elmond, 
Which held the mystic healing pond, 
Became the Pools of Restiny — 
Men paid in blood for their "destiny."

Noble souls of both kinds died; 
The pools became where the dead abide...
Until the day when the heir, Altiny, 
Grandson to the conquering King Restiny, 

Would rise to choose a nobler destiny
Whose grace and charm would lead to lenity.

This is one in a series of fantasy poems

The Great War: Men vs. Elves in Elfin Lore ~ Poem
The Fall of Restiny: A Fantasy Ballad of Love and Vengeance
Discovering Pixies and Dreams in ‘The Gift of the Emerald Ring’

The Great War: Men vs. Elves in Elfin Lore ~ Poem

Posted on by Bob Richley
Fantasy kingdom with ornate castles, waterfalls, mountains, and a crescent moon

The Great War Between Men and Elves

It is known within elfin lore
Long ago before the great war
The birth of evil men and kings.

In the days before men were found,
Wisdom and virtue were renowned
Peace and harmony ruled the day.

Men were birthed from the blackened soil
Endowed with strength for work and toil
To better the land and the sea.

Men built noble architecture,
Stone, glass, and metallic structures
Surrounded by floral gardens,

Scarlet and violet flowers,
Accenting gold and white towers,
Encircled by pools of green and blue,

Falls descended like crystal tears,
Into serene, silent, still meres
From bronzed sculptured quiet faces.

Growing pride in charm and splendor
Men’s hearts began to surrender
To darkened prideful evil ways.

From the nymphs craftsmen learned to forge
Long spears, heavy chains and sharp swords,
Enchanted, mystic weaponry.

Elves deemed valor was doing right.
Men moved to see valor as might.
The divorce between men and elves.

Further Reading:

One in a series of fantasy poems.

Discovering Pixies and Dreams in ‘The Gift of the Emerald Ring’
The Fall of Restiny: A Fantasy Ballad of Love and Vengeance
An Epic Fantasy Poem of Elves, War, and Destiny

Discovering Pixies and Dreams in ‘The Gift of the Emerald Ring’

Posted on by Bob Richley
Four winged fairies dancing hand in hand in a moonlit wildflower meadow

The Gift of the Emerald Ring

Elfin children go out to play
Among painted flowers they sing,
‘ Please, pixies come and dance today.
What magical gifts will you bring? ‘

Elders laugh as they watch the sight
Of childish fantasies and dreams
With masked envy of their delight
And hidden fears of pixies’ schemes.

Children know what adults don’t see.
As pixies flutter and frolic,
But from adults pixies flee.
To dodge the feared melancholic.

‘ Please, pixies come and dance today.
What magical gifts will you bring? ‘
The toddler prince found it one day
A mystical emerald ring

With masked envy of their delight
And hidden fears of pixies’ schemes
The prince kept the ring out of sight
While pixies whispered in his dreams.

Children know what adults don’t see.
As pixies flutter and frolic.
Hiding the truths of what must be
In their playful childish rollick.

For Further Reading

This is one in a series of fantasy poems

The Great War: Men vs. Elves in Elfin Lore ~ Poem
An Epic Fantasy Poem of Elves, War, and Destiny
The Fall of Restiny: A Fantasy Ballad of Love and Vengeance

Navigating Darkness: The Power of Hope and Love

Posted on by Bob Richley
Fishing boat with one person on choppy water beneath sunlit storm clouds

Out of the Depths

Sometimes situations make no earthly sense,
The pain is sharp and the darkness dense.
We climb deeper into our hole of despair
And can barely grasp for any air.

Looking at the wind and the waves, we sink
Our hope, faith, and trust are on the brink
Of slipping into the depths of the stormy sea.
In desperation, we cry to be set free.

It is then that Hope reaches down His hand,
Encouraging us to take our final stand.
Looking up into Love's tender eyes,
We find the strength and courage to rise.

Cherishing Memories: A Tribute to Dad

Posted on by Bob Richley
Countryside valley shown across spring, summer, autumn, and winter

Seasons of the Soul

Warm days fill us with delight
As dawn breaks into the light.
Colorful flowers bloom and grow
As the cool breezes blow.

Sunshine and rainbows fill our days
Breaking through the darkened haze.
We laugh and play the whole time wrong
Wasting our time singing our deceitful song.

But soon leaves will descend
As we begin another end.
The withering will pass away
For the colors to turn to grey. 

Cold, harsh reality comes to haunt
And death and evil start to taunt.
We cry and toil the whole time wrong
Having wasted our life-long song.

But hope lives in the seasons of regret
Giving us a chance to repent of wrong, yet.
Turn our hearts away from grey madness
From mourning to colorful gladness.

Today is my mother’s 85th birthday. My dad has cancer for the second time. My sister told us today has been difficult. My dad talks about his potential demise and his concern for his wife. It saddens me to think about it. Life is fragile, but we cling to hope, not false hope but real hope in a living Savior who lived and died to conquer death.

I think back on fun days growing up, of camping trips, climbing mountains, riding sleds down dunes, and fishing. My dad was the initiator of those fun times, those wonderful memories. Those memories bring both joy and sadness: joy remembering the fun, sadness knowing the one who gave them to me may be taken away.

I think of the cold, harsh reality that my dad one day will die, but then I remember that death is defeated. We will live again in the resurrection. So I hold out in hope.

My dad will turn 85 in November. He has lived a long and happy life for the most part. He has 5 children and 8 grandkids. I know he’s proud of every one of them, and we have him to thank for who we are.

Should my dad die, he wants us to celebrate his life, and we will do so.

I wrote this many years ago and will read it someday at his funeral.

My Dad

As I look back over the years,
And remember the joy and tears,
There is one steady, stable factor I see:
A man to lead and guide me,

A man who was always there,
A man who had real love and care,
A man who made us a close family,
A man who taught values and integrity,

A man who sacrificed his time,
A man who was firm, yet gentle and kind,
A man who saw us through good and bad,
A man whom I'm proud to call my dad.

I’m 60 years old and I’m still very much proud of my dad and I hope to be as great a dad to my kids as he was to me. My kids will be his legacy.

The Lies We Want to Believe: Are We Willing to Be Wrong?

Posted on by Bob Richley
Man choosing between comforting lies and uncomfortable truth, illustrating Christian self-examination, faith, and the freedom of truth.

Lies I Believe

I'm tired of being told lies I want to hear!
Truth is painful when it slaps me in the face.
It convicts me of wrongs I held so dear.
It reveals shame I now seek to erase.
Let me remain in darkness, blind to what is true.
In darkness I can hide from who I am.
Let me remain the same; don't make me new.
I refuse to look inside and question where I stand.
I'm safe within my deceit and lies.
No need to change or repent.
Let me do right in my own eyes.
I need nothing to lament.
I'm tired of being told lies I want to hear!
But keep telling them to me.
I do not wish to change what I hold dear.
Keep me in chains; I do not wish to be free.

This is a hard truth: we are comfortable in our beliefs.

Sometimes we’re so comfortable that when those beliefs are challenged, we don’t listen. We defend. We argue. We search for reasons the other person must be wrong.

Sometimes we would rather believe a comfortable lie than an uncomfortable truth.

I’ve found that some of my greatest growth has happened when I’ve been forced to examine beliefs I had held for years. I’ve had to change my ideology and even my entire paradigm when confronted with evidence that what I believed might not be true.

That’s difficult.

There is something humbling about saying, “I was wrong.”

When Grace Challenged What I Believed

In my twenties, I was part of a legalistic church. We believed in the death and resurrection of Jesus for our sins. We believed in forgiveness and salvation through Christ, but we also added many laws that Christians were expected to follow.

We kept the seventh-day Sabbath. We observed all seven Jewish holy days from the Old Testament. We followed Old Testament dietary laws.

I sincerely believed these things, and I could defend them biblically.

I didn’t think I was following error. I thought I was following truth.That’s what makes error so difficult to recognize: we rarely believe something because we think it’s false.

Then those beliefs began to be challenged.

Through the influence of Hank Hanegraaff, The Bible Answer Man, the church itself began examining some of its teachings. I was confronted with a much greater understanding of grace.

That forced me to ask a difficult question:

What if something I’ve believed for years isn’t true?

I could defend what I had always believed simply because I had always believed it, or I could examine it.

Over time, my beliefs changed.

That experience taught me something important. Being willing to question a belief isn’t the same as abandoning truth. Sometimes questioning what we believe is precisely how we get closer to truth.

I’m Still Being Challenged

It hasn’t stopped.

Now some of my beliefs about the Rapture and speaking in tongues are being challenged since I started attending a more charismatic church.

And I welcome those challenges.

That doesn’t mean I automatically accept every new teaching I hear. It doesn’t mean the person challenging me is necessarily right.

It means I’m willing to listen.

I’m willing to open my Bible.

I’m willing to ask questions.

I’m willing to examine the arguments on both sides.

And most importantly, I’m willing to consider the possibility that I could be wrong.

That’s much harder than it sounds.

Conviction Isn’t the Same as Certainty

We need convictions. There are truths worth believing, defending, and teaching our children. I believe in absolute, unchanging truth. Jesus said, “I am the way and the truth and the life.” — John 14:6

But believing in absolute truth doesn’t mean that my understanding of truth is always perfect. Truth doesn’t change, but sometimes I need to.

That’s where humility comes in.

Our convictions should serve as a compass, guiding the way we live. We should hold them firmly. But we should also be willing to examine why we believe them when they are challenged. Otherwise, we risk confusing confidence in the truth with confidence in ourselves.

There is a danger in becoming so certain of ourselves that we stop listening. At that point, we aren’t really searching for truth anymore. We’re searching for evidence that confirms what we already believe.

That’s our natural tendency. We’re comfortable with what we believe, and we defend that comfort because changing our minds can be painful. It may require us to admit that something we’ve believed, defended, or even taught others was wrong.

The question changes from:

“Is this true?”

to:

“How can I prove that I’m right?”

Those are very different questions.

If truth really matters to me, then being proven wrong may be painful, but it shouldn’t be something I fear. I’d rather change what I believe than ask the truth to conform to what I already believe.

Proverbs tells us:

“The way of a fool is right in his own eyes: but he that hearkeneth unto counsel is wise.” — Proverbs 12:15 (KJV)

That verse makes me uncomfortable.

It should.

I can be right in my own eyes and still be wrong.

The Problem Isn’t Just “Those People”

It’s easy to see this problem in someone else. In fact, Jesus warned us about our tendency to see another person’s fault while overlooking our own: “first take the plank out of your own eye.” — Matthew 7:3-5

We see people on the other side of politics, religion, culture, or some controversy and wonder, How can they possibly believe that? Can’t they see the truth?

But perhaps a better question is:

What do I believe that I haven’t seriously examined?

That’s harder.

It’s easy to identify someone else’s blind spots. By definition, my own are difficult for me to see.

I can criticize another person’s echo chamber while living comfortably inside my own.

I can complain that someone else refuses to listen while dismissing anyone who challenges me.

I can demand that other people question their assumptions while treating mine as unquestionable.

I can accuse someone else of confirmation bias while searching only for evidence that confirms what I already believe.

That’s why self-examination matters.

Teaching Our Children to Seek Truth

This matters in our families, too.

I want my children to share my values and my faith. But I don’t want them to believe something merely because Dad told them to believe it.

I want them to know why they believe it. And I want their faith to be strong enough to withstand questions.

That means I need to allow questions—even uncomfortable ones.

If my child asks, “How do we know that’s true?” I don’t want my response to be, “Because I said so.”

That’s an opportunity.

We can open the Bible together. We can examine evidence. We can talk about opposing ideas. I can ask what they think and why they think it.

And sometimes they may challenge me.

Am I willing to listen then?

If I teach my children to examine their beliefs but refuse to examine my own, they’ll notice the contradiction.

I don’t merely want to teach my children what to think.

I want to teach them how to seek truth.

This is part of the kind of relationship I want to build with my children—one where they feel safe asking questions, expressing doubts, and even disagreeing with me. I wrote more about building that kind of trust and communication with children here.

Truth Should Matter More Than Being Right

Perhaps that’s the real challenge.

Do I want truth more than I want to be right?

Those aren’t always the same thing.

Being right feels good. Being proven wrong hurts our pride. It may force us to admit that something we’ve taught, defended, or practiced for years was mistaken.

Truth can indeed “slap me in the face,” as I wrote in the poem.

But if something I believe is false, I don’t want it protected merely because abandoning it would be uncomfortable.

Jesus said:

“And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.” — John 8:32 (KJV)

My poem ends with someone begging to remain chained:

Keep me in chains; I do not wish to be free.

That’s the tragedy.

The door may be open, but sometimes we prefer the familiarity of our chains.

I don’t want to live that way.

I want convictions, but I also want humility. I want faith, but not fear of questions. I want to be able to defend what I believe, but I also want to be willing to change when I discover I am wrong.

I don’t want to believe something simply because it’s what I’ve always believed.

I want the truth—even when the truth hurts.

Think About It

What belief have you changed your mind about during your life?

What caused you to change it?

When someone challenges something you strongly believe, is your first instinct to listen—or to defend yourself?

Are there beliefs you consider completely off-limits to examination?

And perhaps the hardest question:

If you discovered tomorrow that one of your deeply held beliefs was wrong, would you really want to know?

Behind Redeeming Rhubarb: Prejudice, Empathy, and the Story Behind the Story

Posted on by Bob Richley
Woman leading a donkey across a forest bridge with a dog and cat

When we see someone acting with anger, cruelty, or prejudice, it’s easy to judge what we see. It’s harder to ask why. What happened in that person’s life? What fears, hurts, or beliefs shaped the way they see others? Understanding the answer doesn’t excuse bad behavior, but it can change the way we respond to it.

That idea is at the heart of Redeeming Rhubarb. Rhubarb’s prejudice didn’t come from nowhere. Strawberry has to decide whether to accept what her father taught her or look for herself. Bart has to decide how to respond to two boys who are cruel to animals. And throughout the story, characters repeatedly face the choice between judging an enemy and trying to understand one.

Those same questions matter outside the pages of a novel—especially for parents raising children in a divided world.

Recently, I was asked some thoughtful questions about Redeeming Rhubarb: Why did I choose mice and rats? Why did I give Rhubarb a painful reason for his prejudice? What can children see that adults sometimes miss? How much grief and hardship can middle-grade readers handle? What actually changes a cruel child? And what should parents do when their child repeats something hurtful they’ve learned from someone else?

Below are my answers. I hope they spark more meaningful discussions and provide more insight into the novel’s purpose.

You could have written this book about people. Why mice and rats — and why make the bigot the white mouse and the rescuer the black rat?

I wanted to remove the human element to make it more acceptable to my audience. If I chose specific races, others not included may not relate. By using mice and rats, I could keep the story universal while avoiding that problem.

I intentionally chose rats and mice to challenge readers’ existing biases about specific animals and help them recognize how quickly we form a judgment.

Rats are often seen as dirty, disgusting disease spreaders. We think of the bubonic plague spread by rats. In fiction, they are often portrayed as causing havoc, as in Templeton in Charlotte’s Web. While mice are often the good guys in cartoons and books. Think of Repacheep or Mickey Mouse. We often think of cute white mice as a pet.

In the book, I open with those preconceived ideas. Rats break into a home to steal food. Cute mice are having fun playing games and celebrating a birthday. Then I start to break down those notions by showing the rats are hungry and apologetic, while the mouse is loud and vindictive.

In my story, the rat is the hero who rescues, is wise, and sacrifices. The mouse is the one causing harm, trying to destroy, and hating. That reversal is meant to challenge readers’ expectations.

You spent three years as an evangelical Christian living in a lesbian community, having the conversations most people avoid. What did that teach you about how prejudice comes apart?

While I lived in that community, we got to know one another as people and became friends. We camped together, ate together, and played together. I went to parties to have fun and celebrate. All that helped prejudice come apart.

I watched documentaries and movies to understand better their point of view, which also helped me see them as people.

That’s how prejudice comes apart: when we see people as people, not a label.

That experience helped shape one of the ideas behind Redeeming Rhubarb: understanding someone doesn’t require agreeing with them. It requires being willing to see the person behind the label. I later expressed that idea in a poem I called “The Other Side.”

For convictions, we fight
so confident we are right.
Anger and aggression
without pausing to question
the pretexts of our certitude.
Rigid in our attitude.
It’s time we look inside
rather than trying to hide.
The fault and failure lie within
over our own self-centered sin.
Cease blaming others and God!
Let go of the deceptive facade!
Examine and evaluate,
consider convictions to abdicate.
Seek first to comprehend
what enemies apprehend.
Replace anger and apprehension
with charity and comprehension.

Rhubarb isn’t a cartoon villain — he lost a brother to rats. How important was it that his prejudice start from a real wound?

Stephen Covey tells a story of a man whose unruly children are disrupting a quiet subway car. When Covey asks the father to control them, the man replies blankly that they just left the hospital where their mother died. Covey’s perspective instantly shifts from annoyance to deep empathy. We all have a back story, and when you know it, you can understand why a person does or says what they do.

I tell my girls that people who bully or are mean are often hurting inside. We don’t know what goes on in their home. When I was in the 3rd grade, my teacher had a bully step out of the room, and we talked about what he did and why. The teacher explained that he may be hurting and ashamed. That stuck with me.

Knowing why Rhubarb hates rats helps us relate to him and understand his actions. It doesn’t make what he does right, but it does help us comprehend and sympathize.

You lived through the 2013 Boulder flood. What did you see then that ended up in the book?

I remember a road with a raised crack shaped like an upside-down “V”. That memory is in the book. I saw signs of people volunteering to help neighbors whose homes were damaged and people helping to repair trails. I, myself, volunteered to help clean our church’s flooded basement. I lost my wedding ring in the process. I put that volunteer spirit in the book. I remember some homes were damaged and others missed. I put Bart’s apartment near where I lived because our home was not damaged.

Strawberry is the moral engine of the book, and she’s a kid. What do children see about their parents’
prejudices that the parents don’t?

Do you ever watch young kids play? Young children may notice differences, but those differences don’t necessarily determine whom they’ll play with. They see another kid—a potential playmate. I don’t think that prejudice is instinctive. I think it is learned.

Kids can also show a remarkable openness and empathy. They’ve not built up walls to protect their feelings as adults have, so that they can feel and understand each other better.

Rhubarb drinks. Strawberry loses a leg. A character dies. How did you decide how much a middle-grade
reader can carry?

Reading With Your Kids put it this way in their review:

One of the greatest strengths of Redeeming Rhubarb is that it trusts young readers with complex ideas.

The book tackles racism, stereotypes, addiction, grief, courage, family loyalty, forgiveness, sacrifice, and faith without becoming preachy. Instead, these themes naturally emerge through the lives of memorable animal characters.

Kids go through much and are more resilient than we realize. I’ve seen children’s resilience firsthand. My late aunt grew up with an abusive, alcoholic father—my grandfather—and I’ve worked with children from broken homes who were carrying burdens adults sometimes underestimate.

That doesn’t mean children should be overwhelmed with darkness. It means we shouldn’t assume they are incapable of wrestling with difficult realities.

My daughters have watched movies and read books where the main character dies. They feel for the character. The tragedy impacts them.

I decided to make the characters go through tragedy so readers will feel and be impacted. I didn’t make Rhubarb a mean drunk because I didn’t want to scare the kids, so I did set limits. I also wanted the characters to be relatable. Life is not rainbows and sunshine. Characters are not all good and all bad. So I put the characters in difficult situations and show both the good and bad sides of each.

Bart’s nephews arrive, shooting kittens with foam darts, and leave, feeding one with a dropper. What
actually changes a cruel kid?

I have Bart speak sternly to his nephews but not yell. To children, we are towering giants. If we yell and scream, a child will be terrified. Even if we speak gently but look down upon them, they can be intimidated and fearful. Imagine being three feet tall and having someone twice your size standing over you, angry, pointing a finger, and raising his voice. That’s what we can look like to a young child. So Bart doesn’t yell because yelling won’t change them. I wrote in depth about this in another blog.

I have Bart make them work hard. Work does something to us. It gives us purpose and satisfaction. I also have Bart let the boys feel what it is like to feed the kittens and play with the dogs. They experience the warmth and joy of doing good. That teaches more than words can.

As I point out often in the book, we need to understand why someone behaves as they do. Bart inherently understood his nephews, and I bring that out by showing his thoughts.

Bart also doesn’t lecture. He asks questions and lets his nephews answer. This prompts them to consider which is better: being cruel or being kind.

I believe that’s how you change a cruel kid.

A parent hears their child repeat something ugly they picked up at school. Based on this book, what
should happen next in that house?

This should be a conversation starter, not a time for a lecture. We need to understand what happened and why. We need to ask our child why they think another child behaved as they did, to consider what may be happening in the life of the one who did or said something ugly. I give some insights into having those difficult discussions in this blog.

Conclusion

Redeeming Rhubarb was never meant to be a book that children simply finish and put back on the shelf. I wrote it to start conversations—about prejudice, forgiveness, choices, consequences, and what can happen when we’re willing to look beyond a label and understand the person on the other side. As Reading With Your Kids put it:

Some books entertain.

Some books teach.

And every once in a while, a book quietly challenges readers—children and adults alike—to examine the assumptions they carry in their own hearts.

Redeeming Rhubarb is one of those rare books.

To help families continue those conversations, I’ve created a free companion guide to Redeeming Rhubarb with chapter-by-chapter questions and activities.

Let’s keep the discussion going.

Facing Cancer With Faith

Posted on by Bob Richley
Elderly couple resting in bed while holding hands beside a lamp and candle

My dad has been diagnosed with stage 4 cancer in his rectum, bladder, and sternum. He’s a “healthy 84,” so the doctor thinks he can eliminate it with chemo and immunotherapy. This is not the first time. He had cancer in his rectum over 30 years ago. At that time, I wrote this poem:

Facing Cancer

"I'm facing my biggest fear,"
He said to me.
I was already hurting.
These words I did not need to hear.
"How does it feel to see me this way?"
He asked of me.
Hurt for him is what I felt.
"Sad" was all I could say.
The man with whom I could run 10 miles
And scale mountain peaks
Now, struggled to walk a few feet.
Memories of such days, now, did not bring smiles.
Seeing my dad weak and in pain,
Hurts me too much.
But though this is hard to bear,
I know our faith will not wane.
Through this fight for his life,
I'll be by his side,
And praying to my Lord:
"Comfort us. Save my father's life."
What outcome lies ahead for us?
It's beyond my control.
I simply do not know.
So in our Lord and Savior we place our trust.

Now we say the same prayers again. It’s just as hard, if not harder. I also pray for the “peace that surpasses all understanding.” Phillipians 4:7

I find it is easier to be angry. Someone tried to provoke me to anger yesterday. The Holy Spirit had to have given me self-control, because I certainly wanted to explode but didn’t. I find I’m less patient with my daughters, too, and have to be more careful not to snap in anger over petty offenses.

I’m most thankful for the prayers, love, and support of my fellow Christians. I can genuinely feel their concern; I can see it in their eyes, and I can feel it in my heart.

I look at my daughters, 10 and 12, and pray my father lives to see them grow into the Godly women they are meant to be. He’s proud of who they are already. They are mature beyond their years. They are smart, beautiful and gifted. My dad sees and knows this already.

As a relatively unknown author navigating the early stages of promoting my book, Redeeming Rhubarb, the journey is as much personal as it is professional. The book has earned a Certified Great Read distinction and a strong Kirkus review, but my deepest validation comes from home. My father has read it, and he knows how special it is.

My prayer now is for time: time to work hard and share this book with the world, and time for my dad to witness both its success and the growth of my daughters. Whatever the future holds, he already knows the depth of what I’ve created and what outsanding daughters I have.

I am not without hope. I do believe in a God who can perform miracles. At the same time, I’m skeptical and don’t have much faith in the medical profession. I believe his doctors and medical professionals have his best interest in mind. I also believe that God will work all things together for good Romans 8:28.

Facing Cancer Again

Once again, we face our biggest fears.
Though the pain brings us many tears,
We stay firm in our faith and belief, 
That God will bring us relief
While we still have hopes and dreams. 
We see beyond evil's schemes 
To our heavenly reward and place,
No matter what trials we face.

The Power of Love in a Broken World

Posted on by Bob Richley
Person walking along a lit path through a dark leafless woodland

The Book of Love Tells Us So

Alone in the lost chambers of your mind
Hopeless among such violence and hate
While the world outside is so unkind
Do you trust love came to interrelate?

In darkened streets where poor children scream
Vile abusers are allowed to walk free
Can you believe love really reigns supreme?
Or hope in some unseen guarantee?

In an evil world we are quick to blame
Love as defined by our own depraved hearts
Perhaps we are deceived by our own shame
Shredding souls into divided parts

We fail to see love’s provided the way
To light the darkness and dawn a new day