Why Stories Teach What Lectures Can’t

Posted on by Bob Richley
Ivy-covered stone doorway opening onto a glowing enchanted forest path

The Power of Allegory for Christian Families

Imagine trying to teach a nine-year-old about racism by sitting them down and explaining it directly.

You could talk about history, injustice, fear, and prejudice. Showing them facts and figures could impress them. You could try to explain why it’s wrong and what they should think about it.

And they would nod politely. And nothing would change.

Now imagine a grandmother sitting down with her grandchildren and reading about a white mouse who has spent his whole life teaching his family that black rats are filthy and dangerous — until a flood comes and the rat saves everyone the mouse loves most.

Nobody’s family is on trial. Nobody feels accused. But when the grandmother closes the book and asks, “Why do you think Rhubarb felt the way he did about rats?” — something real begins to happen.

That is the power of allegory.

What Allegory Is — And Why It Works

Direct moral instruction can make children defensive or disengaged. When lectured, we listen with the intent to respond. We get defensive. Rarely are we convinced beyond our preconceived ideas and paradigms.

An allegory teaches lessons through story and removes our natural barriers and defenses.

An allegory is a story with a double meaning. There is a surface narrative about characters and events, and a much deeper meaning about human experience, faith, society, or morality running beneath it. The characters and situations are fictional, but what they represent is entirely real.

Aesop’s Fables is one of the most famous examples of allegory. In the Tortoise and the Hare, two fictional characters race. The slower one wins not because of speed, but because of consistency and determination. The lesson of consistent determination is universal and applicable to life.

According to the American Journal, allegory serves as a valuable tool for facilitating discussions and promoting a deeper understanding of complex subjects.

The article “Talking about Terrible Things: The Craft of Allegory in Children’s Literature” argues that, for younger students who might have difficulty grasping broader themes or topics, allegories can present these ideas in more familiar and relatable contexts.

When a lesson is wrapped in narrative, the brain processes it differently. We have two sides to our brain: the logical, practical side and the emotional side. When processing stories, the emotional side is activated. We experience the story more personally and more memorably than when it’s delivered as a direct proposition. You don’t just understand the idea. You feel it. And what you feel, you remember. Emotions are a powerful teacher.

The Precedent

Before we look at books, it’s worth remembering where allegory comes from.

Jesus repeatedly used narrative and parable to communicate truths that could have been expressed propositionally. Rather than lecture about compassion, he told of a man left dying on a road and the Samaritan who stopped to help. To illuminate forgiveness, he described a father running to welcome his prodigal son home. And instead of defining eternal life, he spoke of a man who found a pearl of great price and sold everything to possess it.

The parable of the Good Samaritan and the Prodigal Son are allegories. Even the seven letters to the seven churches in Revelation carry allegorical dimensions. God has always used story to open doors that lecture cannot.

John Bunyan understood this. His Pilgrim’s Progress — one of the most widely read books in Christian history — follows a character named Christian on a journey from the City of Destruction to the Celestial City. Every encounter, every obstacle, every companion is allegorical. Yet millions of readers over three centuries have found themselves in that story in ways no theological treatise could.

Examples of Allegory

The Chronicles of Narnia: Allegory in a Child’s World

C.S. Lewis understood that children think concretely before they think abstractly. You cannot hand a nine-year-old a theology textbook. But you can hand them a story about a great lion who dies on a Stone Table and rises again. They will feel the weight of the cross before they have the vocabulary to name it. They will feel Lucy and Susan’s sadness as they watch Aslan’s sacrifice.

The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe is probably the most famous example. Aslan’s substitutionary death and resurrection mirror Christ’s sacrifice. Edmund’s complete forgiveness reflects divine grace rather than karma or endless guilt. The White Witch tempts Edmund with a sweet treat through small compromises, showing how deception leads to bondage in a way a child can see and feel. Edmund betrays his family much like Judas betrayed Jesus.

Other books in the series

But Lewis didn’t stop there. Every book in the series carries its own allegorical weight:

The Magician’s Nephew explores creation by spoken word and the temptation and fall of man, mirroring Genesis. The Horse and His Boy teaches divine guidance, providence, and the stripping away of human pride. Prince Caspian encourages faith when revival or deliverance seems delayed. The Voyage of the Dawn Treader illustrates spiritual transformation. Eustace is “un-dragoned,” which points toward our inability to save ourselves. The Silver Chair warns believers to hold fast to the Lion’s core command amid distraction. The Last Battle depicts judgment and the transition to Aslan’s Country — heaven itself.

Seven books. Seven doorways into truths that, taught directly, might bounce off a child’s heart. Wrapped in story, they walk in through a different entrance.

In Lewis’ Own Word

Lewis himself said it plainly — and it became the opening words of my own Complete Companion Guide: “A children’s story that can only be enjoyed by children is not a good children’s story in the slightest.”

He wasn’t writing for children. He was writing about the truth that children and adults share.

The Kingdom Series: Allegory for the Whole Bible

Chuck Black, a Christian fiction author and former F-16 fighter pilot, wrote the six-book Kingdom Series — medieval action allegories that retell the Bible from Genesis to Revelation for ages eight and up. The books are widely used as family read-alouds and homeschool devotionals, with discussion questions tied to Scripture at the back of each volume.

On an episode of Schoolhouse Rocked, host Aby Rinella welcomed Chuck to discuss why making room for doubt and hard questions is essential in Christian homeschool families. Rather than treating a child’s spiritual doubt as a threat, Chuck argued that it can become a doorway to deeper, more personally owned faith.

Chuck’s approach to this is through story. A child who asks hard questions about God while reading an allegory about knights and battles is not in danger — they’re in the safest possible environment to wrestle with what they believe and why.

Chuck and I share the same conviction: the right story can open a door that a direct conversation sometimes can’t.

Redeeming Rhubarb: An Allegory of Mice and Rats

When I set out to write a story about prejudice, I didn’t want to use human characters. If I chose human characters of specific races or ethnicities, readers who didn’t belong to those groups might disengage. They might feel accused, or disconnected, or simply unrepresented. The lesson I wanted to teach would only reach part of the audience it was meant for.

So I chose mice and rats.

I made a deliberate allegorical decision. The same instinct that led C.S. Lewis and Chuck Black to write allegories, led me.

It’s rooted in the Biblical example of Jesus, who tells stories about farmers and fishermen rather than making direct accusations about the Pharisees’ behavior.

By using animals, I removed the human element entirely. A grandmother can sit down with her grandchildren and discuss racism from the perspective of mice and rats without pointing fingers at anyone in the room, to parents or neighbors. The conversation can go where it needs to go. They can discuss fear, prejudice, and what hatred costs the one who holds it without anyone feeling personally attacked.

Reversing Preconceived Notions

I also chose mice and rats specifically to challenge existing biases. Most readers arrive with a pre-formed reaction to each animal. Mice are cute and small and sympathetic. Rats are dirty, dangerous, and feared. I reversed those expectations entirely.

In Redeeming Rhubarb, the rat is the hero — wise, patient, sacrificial, and forgiving. The mouse is the one causing harm, hating, and trying to destroy. That reversal is deliberate. The moment a reader realizes they’ve been rooting for the wrong animal is the moment the allegory does its deepest work — because they begin to ask why they assumed what they assumed, and whether those assumptions extend to people.

How Children Experience a Story

Children experience a story differently than adults do. They don’t analyze it from a distance. Instead, they enter it. They inhabit the characters, feel what the characters feel, and carry those emotions with them long after the book is closed.

In Redeeming Rhubarb, that emotional journey runs through three very different characters. Children will see themselves in each one and feel their emotions.

Barnabas awakens their compassion. He is kind to the very mouse who despises him and forgives when he has every reason not to be. Children who follow Barnabas feel what genuine grace looks like before they have a word for it. They don’t need to be told that loving your enemies is the right thing to do. They watch Barnabas do it, and they feel why it matters.

Strawberry gives children a voice. Her sadness and frustration over her father’s blindness and watching someone she loves refuse to see what is right in front of him is one of the most relatable experiences in the book. Children who have ever known an adult who was wrong about something important will recognize Strawberry’s position immediately. She becomes the reader’s representative inside the story, asking the questions the reader wants to ask.

And Rhubarb brings them closest to the truth about themselves. His prejudice is not cartoonish. It has reasons such as real grief, real wounds, real history. As his hatred brings painful consequences to the family he loves, children feel his growing shame before he does. They see it coming before he can admit it. And when he finally falls to his knees, the relief they feel is not just his — it is theirs. Because Rhubarb is not a villain; he is a broken person who finally lets himself be reached.

That is what allegory accomplishes that a lecture never could. Children don’t just learn about prejudice and forgiveness — they experience them, at a safe distance, inside the lives of a mouse and a rat.

Allegory is a Tool

American Journal states that through symbolic representations and metaphors, readers can approach complex subjects from a new perspective, making them more relatable and accessible. This, in turn, creates a space for dialogue and exploration, enabling readers to engage with the text and share their insights and interpretations.

That is exactly what happens when a family reads Redeeming Rhubarb together. The story is about mice and rats. The conversation is about us.

Why This Matters for Your Family and Homeschool

Research confirms what storytellers and scripture writers have always practiced. Books serve as both mirrors and windows for children — mirrors in which children can see themselves, and windows that widen their world. Allegory amplifies both functions: it gives children a mirror they can look into without feeling exposed, and a window into experiences and moral questions they might otherwise avoid.

Here are three practical ways allegory creates the safe space children need:

  • It removes the personal threat. When the story is about Rhubarb, not about Dad, a child can examine prejudice without the conversation feeling like an accusation. They can disagree with Rhubarb, feel ashamed of Rhubarb, and root for Barnabas — and all of that emotional processing prepares them for the harder conversation about what happens in real life.
  • It invites honest questions. When a child asks “why does Rhubarb hate the rats so much?” they are doing theology without knowing it. They’re asking about the roots of hatred, about inherited fear, about what grief does to a person when it isn’t healed. You can answer that question fully and honestly without anyone in the room feeling implicated or guilty.
  • It makes the lesson stick. Stories can make abstract ideas more memorable and emotionally striking. A child who reads Rhubarb’s story will carry Barnabas’s grace with them long after the book is closed, because they didn’t just learn about forgiveness. They watched it happen, on the page, at real cost, and they felt what it felt like when the walls finally came down.

Where to Start

If you’re looking for allegories to add to your family reading or homeschool curriculum, here are my recommendations in order:

  • The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis — for all ages, start with The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
  • The Kingdom Series by Chuck Black — excellent for ages 8 and up, strong for family devotions
  • Pilgrim’s Progress by John Bunyan — the original English-language Christian allegory; several excellent children’s adaptations exist
  • Redeeming Rhubarb by Bob Richley — a middle-grade allegory about prejudice, forgiveness, and redemption, with a free 46-chapter Complete Companion Guide available at bobrichleyauthor.store

For more recommendations, see this curated list from a homeschooler: Top 10 Christian Allegory Books & Series for Kids and Teens

The safe space your child needs to wrestle with the hardest questions isn’t a classroom or a lecture. It’s a story. Give them a good one, and then sit down with them and see where it goes.

Resources:

Free Redeeming Rhubarb resources — discussion guides, unit studies, grammar supplements, and the Complete Companion Guide — are available free at bobrichleyauthor.store.

Chuck Black’s Kingdom Series is available at chuckblack.com and wherever Christian books are sold.

The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis is available wherever books are sold.

From Shame to Sonship: Alcoholism and Identity in Christian Faith

Posted on by Bob Richley
Abstract painting with swirling gold, crimson, blue, and black brushstrokes

My maternal grandmother hid knives on weekends.

Her husband drank, and when he drank, things became dangerous. My paternal grandfather was mean. He was cruel and abusive when alcohol was in him, and absent in the ways that mattered when it wasn’t.

I grew up knowing what alcoholism does to a family from the inside. I saw how hurt my aunts and father were and heard horror stories.

Later, I sat in recovery groups and watched people wrestle free from addiction through the grace of God. I saw what it cost. I watched and experienced what freedom looks like when it finally arrives.

That experience went into Redeeming Rhubarb — specifically into the character of Rhubarb himself. He drinks. He is an alcoholic. And I wanted to write that with the honesty it deserves, not as a plot device but as someone relatable and someone that grace can actually reach.

The Backstory Behind the Behavior

Stephen Covey tells a story of a man whose children are running wild on a subway car, disturbing everyone around them. Covey, frustrated, asks the father to control them. The man looks up blankly and says: “We just came from the hospital. Their mother died an hour ago.”

Covey’s annoyance dissolves instantly. Not because the children’s behavior changed — but because he suddenly understood the story behind it.

We all have a backstory. And when you know someone’s backstory, you can begin to understand why they do what they do — without excusing it.

This is why I give Rhubarb a backstory.

Without it, readers would see his prejudice, his cruelty, his abandonment of his family in the flood — and they would simply hate him. They wouldn’t want him redeemed. They might not even believe redemption was possible for someone like him.

So I add more. Rhubarb was wounded by a father who never accepted him, no matter how hard he tried to please him. He lost his brother and blamed rats who sold him drugs. He carries guilt that he has never spoken out loud. And when he later believes his daughter has died because of his own failures, that guilt compounds into something that crushes him.

None of this makes his behavior acceptable. But it makes him comprehensible. And comprehension is where compassion begins. The reader may not like or agree with what Rhubarb does, but they’ll feel compassion for his brokenness.

I also show Rhubarb at his best. He plays with his children, compliments his daughter, and shows flashes of warmth and humor. He is not a cartoon villain. Rhubarb is a broken mouse with both good and bad in him, like all of us.

The Downward Cycle of Shame

Here is something I’ve come to understand about shame — not just from Rhubarb’s story, but from my own:

We’ve all lost our true identity. We see ourselves based on our performance. If we excel in sports, we identify ourselves as good athletes. If we do well at our jobs, we identify ourselves as good workers. In contrast, if we fail, if we make mistakes, if we do things wrong, we identify ourselves as worthless.

Rhubarb sees himself as worthless. His father told him so, in a hundred different ways. His identity was formed in failure, and it stayed there.

Shame drove him to drink — to numb the pain of that identity. And when he believed he was responsible for his daughter’s death, the shame deepened. He knew drinking was the problem. But shame doesn’t drive people toward change. Shame drives people deeper into the very thing destroying them. That is the downward cycle — and it is one of the most accurate things I know about addiction because I’ve been there, I’ve experienced it.

The only thing that breaks the cycle is not willpower. It is not discipline. It is love. My accountability partners loved me. They accepted me for who I am and reminded me that I am still loved by God.

The Poem That Expresses Who I Am

I wrote this poem that wrestles with exactly this question: Who Am I? I had been an athlete. A developer of code. A provider. And as those roles fell away one by one, I found myself asking: if I’m not what I do — then who am I?

Once I thought I was an athlete.
I ran cross country and track.
I won awards and races.
I saw pleasure on many faces.
Now, being old, I can no longer run.
Who I thought I was has become undone.

Once I thought I was a developer of code.
I wrote programs that people used and praised.
People were delighted and amazed.
Now, retired, I no longer code and write.
Who I thought I was has taken flight.

Accolades and praise, applause and awards
Are what I sought, gained and lost.
For what I thought was my identity,
Is now gone, so who am I now?
For all I thought I was, I disavow.

I am not a writer.
A writer is what I do,
Not who I am.

I am not a man,
A man is my sex.
It is not who I am.

I am not a father.
I produced, and now I raise my kids,
But it is not who I am.

So who am I?
If I'm nothing I do?
If I'm not my attributes or appearance?

The answer comes from the one
Who created me to be his son.
In the image of God was I made
It is my identity that will never fade.

I am a child of the Most High God
In him is my identity and whom I laud.
I am his beloved son in whom he is well pleased.
It is by his love my soul is forever seized.

I am not worthless as I sometimes believe.
I am not what I don't do or fail to achieve.
I am of the highest value to the only one.
I am a prince of the king, his beloved son.

The Identity That Breaks the Cycle

Rhubarb’s redemption comes not from a lecture, not from a program, not from trying harder. It comes when he finally understands that he is loved.

Barnabas keeps showing him love — consistently, at great personal cost, without requiring Rhubarb to change first. His daughter Strawberry speaks truth to him — the hardest truth, delivered with tears rather than cruelty. It is this powerful combination of truth and love that breaks Rhubarb and brings him to redemption.

He realizes he is loved. And that realization gives him a new identity.

That is the identity we all need. Not the identity formed by our performance, our failures, or our father’s voice, but the one that was given to us before any of that happened. We are beloved children of God. We are princes and daughters of the King, created in his image, bought by his Son, being made new.

In our merit-based world, that identity is almost impossibly hard to accept. But it is our true identity. And it is the only one that doesn’t come undone when the accolades stop and the roles fall away.

That’s what Redeeming Rhubarb is about. Not a mouse who was always good. A mouse who was broken in a specific way, for a real reason — and who had to decide, at great cost, to receive the love that had been offered to him all along.

To continue this conversation with your family: My free Redeeming Rhubarb Complete Companion Guide includes chapter-by-chapter discussion questions, family conversation starters, and KJV Faith Connections for all 46 chapters — available free at bobrichleyauthor.store.

What Are You Handing Your Kids Without Knowing It?

Posted on by Bob Richley
A child watches two adults organizing papers at a dining table

How children absorb the world around them — and what this Colorado dad learned the hard way

When we think about teaching our children values, we usually think about the conversations we have: The things we say, the rules we set, the lessons we explain at the dinner table or before bed.

But children are not primarily learning from what we say. They are learning from what we do — and from what we feel. My kids will learn more from what I do than what I say, lecture, or try to teach them.

I saw that in a way I didn’t expect.

We have three people with intellectual disabilities living in our home. My intention has always been that my daughters would learn compassion from that experience. That they would see what it looks like to care for someone vulnerable who needs more patience than most situations require.

But what I’ve actually noticed is this: when I’m frustrated — and I do get frustrated — my daughters pick that up: Not the compassion I intend, but rather the frustration I actually show.

I’ve seen them repeat things I’ve done out of frustration and express the same verbal frustrations I’ve expressed.

That was a humbling realization. I wasn’t teaching them to be cruel. I wasn’t saying anything negative, but my reactions were forming them anyway — quietly, consistently, in a direction I hadn’t chosen.

My wife is much better at showing compassion. She is the host home provider and takes care of these individuals. She demonstrates patience and compassion, which flow from who she naturally is. My kids learn compassion from her.

I want to learn from my wife. I’m praying that I become more like her.

The Furniture We Don’t Notice

Research shows that children as young as three are already forming group preferences and social attitudes — not from explicit teaching, but from what they observe in the adults around them. By the time most parents realize they’ve been communicating something, the children have already received it.

I think of it as furniture. The beliefs and attitudes we absorb in childhood are just there — already arranged in the room when we arrive. We didn’t choose them. We didn’t even notice them being placed. But they shape the space we move through for the rest of our lives.

This is what I tried to capture in my novel Redeeming Rhubarb. Rhubarb’s pups know that rats are dangerous before they have ever met one. They learned not from a lecture but from watching him live out his fear and hatred day after day.

That’s what most of us are doing. Not maliciously. Not even consciously. But consistently.

What Prejudice Actually Looks Like Up Close

I spent three years as an evangelical Christian living in a lesbian community. I didn’t agree with everything I saw. But I got to know my neighbors as people, as individuals with names and histories and kindnesses and struggles that had nothing to do with the label I had assigned them.

And prejudice, I discovered, comes apart in exactly that way.

  • Not through argument.
  • Not through being convinced.
  • Through relationship.
  • Through proximity.
  • Through the slow accumulation of moments where a person turns out to be more complicated and more human than the category you put them in.

That experience shaped the book — and it shaped the way I think about what we hand to our children.

The question isn’t whether our children will absorb our attitudes. They will. The question is which attitudes, and whether we are paying enough attention to know what we’re actually transmitting.

What to Do When Your Child Says Something That Stops You Cold

Most parents discover what their child has absorbed the hard way — the day their child comes home and repeats something ugly they picked up from a peer, a cousin, a classroom, a screen. Or worse, they are the child who initiated something ugly at school.

That moment is uncomfortable. But it’s also a gift. You found out what was going on in your child’s world before it took root.

Here’s what I’ve found works — and what I wrote into the book:

  • Don’t lecture. Ask questions. Not accusations — questions.
    • Where did you hear that?
    • What do you think it meant?
    • Why do you think someone would say that?
    • If they are the person who said or did something:
      • What prompted you to say or do that?
      • What were you feeling?
      • Why did you feel that way?
    • You’re not excusing the behavior.
    • You’re teaching your child to think rather than react. That’s a different and more lasting thing.
  • Don’t yell. In the book, when Bart’s nephews are cruel to animals, he doesn’t yell at them. He speaks calmly, asks questions, makes them work, and lets them feel the warmth of doing something good. They change — not because he frightened them into it, but because he led them through it. Yelling might produce compliance in the moment. It doesn’t change the heart.
  • Don’t make it a shaming moment. If your child feels attacked for bringing something to you, they’ll stop bringing things to you. And then you’re parenting blind — which is far more dangerous.
  • Do make it a conversation. Ask your child what they think about what they heard or did. Ask them what might be going on in the life of the person who said it. If they were the perpetrator, ask them what is going on in their life. How are they hurting?

In my book, Rhubarb’s prejudice is rooted in real grief — he lost his brother. Knowing that doesn’t excuse what he does. But it does make him comprehensible. And comprehension is where compassion begins.

The Harder Question

I find it easy to talk about what Rhubarb is doing wrong. He’s the cautionary tale. He’s the one whose children are absorbing something he didn’t fully intend.

But when I’m honest with myself — really honest — I know that I am Rhubarb in certain moments, when I’m impatient with the people in my home who need more from me than I feel I can give, when my frustration shows before my compassion does, when I react before I think.

My daughters are watching all of it.

That doesn’t mean I need to be perfect. It means I need to be honest — with them and with myself — about what I’m still learning. There is something powerful about a parent saying “I got that wrong, and here’s what I should have done.” It teaches children that character is not something you are born with or without. It’s something you practice and build, one choice at a time.

The Bible speaks of confession and its healing power. James 5:16, “Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed.” This applies not only to confessing to other believers, but also to confession to our children and spouses.

  • It heals the relationship.
  • It sets an example.
  • It shows vulnerability.

That’s ultimately what Redeeming Rhubarb is about. Not a mouse who was always good. A mouse who was broken in a specific way, for a real reason, and who had to decide — at great cost — to become someone different. That story is available to all of us, including the ones telling it.

To continue this conversation with your family: My free Redeeming Rhubarb Complete Companion Guide includes chapter-by-chapter discussion questions, family conversation starters, and KJV Faith Connections for all 46 chapters — available free at bobrichleyauthor.store.

Swiss Family Robinson: Turning an Impossible Island Into Learning

Posted on by Bob Richley
Illustration of a tropical village with sailing ship, huts, farmers, and gardens

A story doesn’t have to be scientifically or historically perfect to be educational. Sometimes the very things that are unrealistic about a story give us opportunities to ask better questions.

The Swiss Family Robinson by Johann David Wyss is the story of a shipwrecked family that builds a new life on a remote island.

Set in the late 1700s, the story follows Robinson, his wife Elizabeth, and their four sons—Fritz, Ernest, Jack, and Franz. While traveling toward Australia, their ship is wrecked in a violent storm. The crew escapes in lifeboats and is never seen again, leaving the family stranded aboard the shattered vessel.

Fortunately, the wreck is wedged between rocks within sight of land. The family has enough time to fashion a makeshift canoe and reach the nearby island. They establish a temporary camp on the beach and make repeated trips back to the wreckage to gather supplies they will need to survive.

From there, the adventure really begins.

The family explores the island, builds a bridge across a stream, hunts for food, and eventually moves away from the hot beach to a shady grove where they construct a treehouse. They discover a small sailing vessel packed inside the ship’s hold and put it to use.

Along the way, the father teaches his sons about the plants and animals they encounter. The family works together, solves problems, gives thanks to God, and gradually creates a remarkable new life.

And there is one other remarkable thing about the island.

Almost none of it makes sense.

There Is a Problem with the Island

Could an island really contain all the plants and animals found in The Swiss Family Robinson?

Probably not.

Could a family really build and accomplish everything the Robinsons do?

That’s questionable, too.

The island described by Wyss couldn’t exist as presented.

Kangaroos, flamingos, buffalo, penguins, monkeys, and other animals from very different parts of the world somehow find themselves living together on the same tropical island. Animals that belong to completely different parts of the world appear together as though the island were a floating Noah’s Ark.

The geography doesn’t work.

The ecosystem doesn’t work.

And the engineering is exaggerated, too.

Critics have been pointing out these problems for a long time. The inaccuracies aren’t limited to natural history. Scholars have also noted problems with the book’s geography and seamanship. Captain Frederick Marryat was so bothered by what he considered the book’s implausibility that he later wrote Masterman Ready, in part as an alternative to Wyss’s version of the shipwreck adventure.

So should we throw The Swiss Family Robinson away?

I don’t think so.

In fact, I think the very things that make the story unrealistic can make it a wonderful starting point for learning.

When an Impossible Island Becomes a Classroom

Wyss was a Swiss pastor, and the story began as an educational project for his family. He wasn’t simply trying to entertain his sons with a great adventure.

He was trying to teach them.

That helps explain the remarkable variety of plants, animals, natural resources, and practical problems the Robinson family encounters.

Wyss sacrificed geographical accuracy for educational opportunity.

He created an island where his fictional family could encounter an astonishing variety of plants and animals, giving the father figure opportunities to teach his sons about nature, science, and the practical uses of the world around them.

In other words, the island isn’t really a geography lesson.

It’s a classroom disguised as an adventure story.

And that distinction matters.

What Can We Learn by Asking, “Could They Really Do That?”

When we read Swiss Family Robinson with our children, we don’t have to accept everything in the story as fact.

Instead, we can ask questions.

  • Could that really happen?
    • Then look it up.
  • Would that animal really live there?
    • Find a map.
  • Would that plant grow in that climate?
    • Research it.
  • How did they build that?
    • Try to figure it out.
  • Could we build one?
    • Now we’re doing engineering.
  • What would we need to survive?
    • Now we’re doing mathematics and science.
  • How would they preserve that food without refrigeration?
    • Now we’re talking about chemistry, biology, and practical science.
  • How would they navigate from one part of the island to another?
    • Now we’re learning geography and navigation.

The original story contains discussions involving botany, zoology, geography, agriculture, food preservation, animal husbandry, construction, tools, navigation, hunting, fishing, manufacturing, weather, astronomy, and practical problem-solving.

Literary scholar David Blamires points out that part of the book’s enduring appeal was its combination of adventure and discovery with a father’s instruction in botany, zoology, and geography.

And something else happens in the story that I find particularly valuable. The father isn’t simply a walking encyclopedia. Sometimes he knows the answer. Sometimes he has to investigate. And sometimes he admits that he doesn’t know.

That’s a wonderful lesson for parents.

We don’t have to know everything.

We can learn alongside our children.

  • The family observes.
  • They ask questions.
  • They experiment.
  • They make mistakes.
  • They investigate.
  • They learn.

And that’s a wonderful model for family reading.

The Father as Teacher

One of the most interesting aspects of The Swiss Family Robinson is the role of the father. He isn’t merely trying to keep his family alive. He’s trying to prepare his sons to live. That means teaching them practical skills, but it also means teaching them how to think.

  • When they encounter something unfamiliar, he encourages them to examine it.
  • When they face a problem, they work toward a solution.
  • When they make mistakes, there are consequences.
  • And when something goes well, the family gives thanks.

That last part is important. Wyss was a minister. He made sure to give God the glory and praise for his provision.

The book isn’t simply about survival.

It’s about how a family should live.

Wyss’s original work had a strongly didactic and religious purpose. The story emphasizes work, cooperation, self-reliance, moral responsibility, gratitude, and faith. The Robinsons aren’t simply trying to conquer the island. They are learning how to live responsibly within God’s creation. That makes the story much more than an adventure. It becomes an opportunity to talk about character.

When Books Get It Wrong—and Still Get It Right

This brings me to something I believe strongly about children’s books.

A book doesn’t have to be a textbook to teach.

Sometimes a fictional story can teach us how to think about a subject better than a textbook can. A textbook can tell a child that a particular animal lives in a particular part of the world. A story can make a child wonder why. A textbook can explain how a pulley works. A story can make a child want to build one. A textbook can describe an ecosystem. A story can make a child stop and ask, “Wait a minute. Could all those animals really live together?”

That’s where learning begins.

The book doesn’t have to provide every answer.

Sometimes its greatest value is that it gives us a question worth answering.

When we read The Swiss Family Robinson together, we can stop occasionally and say:

“I’m not sure that’s possible. Let’s find out.”

That simple sentence can change the way a child reads. Reading becomes investigation. Curiosity becomes research. A story becomes a science experiment. A fictional island becomes a geography lesson. A construction project becomes an engineering problem. And a conversation between a father and his sons becomes an opportunity to talk about faith, responsibility, courage, and character.

The book can serve as the beginning of the lesson rather than its end.

Stories Give Us Something to Talk About

This is one of the reasons I believe so strongly in reading with children. The most valuable part of a book may not be the last page. It may be the conversation that happens after you close the book.

  • “What did you think?”
  • “Would you have done that?”
  • “Was that a good decision?”
  • “Why do you think he did that?”
  • “Do you think that would really work?”
  • “What does the Bible say about that?”

Those questions turn reading into something more than entertainment. They turn it into a shared experience. And that is something children need.

  • They need opportunities to wonder.
  • They need opportunities to question.
  • They need opportunities to discover that they don’t have to accept every claim simply because they read it in a book.
  • They also need adults who are willing to sit beside them and say: “Let’s find out.”

From Swiss Family Robinson to Redeeming Rhubarb

This idea is also one of the reasons I wrote Redeeming Rhubarb.

My book is very different from The Swiss Family Robinson, but their underlying purposes are similar.

I believe stories can give families something to talk about.

The Swiss Family Robinson can lead to conversations about nature, science, geography, engineering, responsibility, work, faith, and family cooperation.

Redeeming Rhubarb can lead to conversations about prejudice, fear, forgiveness, kindness, and the choices we make when we encounter people who are different from us.

Neither book is meant to replace a textbook. Neither book is meant to replace Scripture. Instead, a story can open a door.

  • It can make a child curious.
  • It can allow a parent to ask a question.
  • It can bring an abstract idea to life in a character we have come to know.
  • And sometimes that makes a difficult subject easier to discuss.

That’s what I hope Redeeming Rhubarb does for families.

  • Not simply entertain children.
  • Not simply teach them a lesson.
  • But give parents and children something worth talking about.

Don’t Just Give a Child a Book

Maybe that’s the real lesson I take from The Swiss Family Robinson.

Don’t just give a child a book.

Read it with them.

  • Ask questions.
  • Look things up.
  • Challenge assumptions.
  • Try things.
  • Let them wonder.

Let children discover that sometimes the book gets something wrong—and that discovering the mistake can be just as educational as getting the answer right.

And when the story raises questions about character, responsibility, relationships, or faith, don’t rush past those questions either.

  • Stop.
  • Talk.
  • Listen.

Connect the story to the real world. And, when appropriate, connect it to God’s Word. Because a good book doesn’t have to contain everything a child needs to learn. Sometimes it only needs to give them the desire to learn more.

A story doesn’t have to be perfect to be valuable.

The island in The Swiss Family Robinson may be impossible. The adventures may stretch credibility. Engineering may occasionally make us shake our heads. But the questions it can inspire are very real.

And sometimes the best education begins with a child looking up from a book and asking:

“Could they really do that?”

The answer might be no.

But the learning that follows could be very real indeed.

Sources & Further Reading

The Science and History Behind The Swiss Family Robinson

Harvard Gazette — “The Swiss Family Robinson”


Harvard evolutionary biologist Hopi Hoekstra discusses the book’s enduring appeal while pointing out its biological problem: the island’s collection of animals—including flamingos, kangaroos, and buffalo—could not occur together naturally, either in the East Indies or anywhere else on Earth. She also notes the story’s emphasis on optimism, perseverance, and teamwork.

Read the Harvard Gazette article

University of California — Scholarly dissertation on The Swiss Family Robinson


This scholarly study provides particularly useful historical context. It explains that Wyss shaped the island into an educational environment, deliberately assembling an abundance of exotic plants and animals so that encounters with them could become opportunities for instruction. It also discusses Captain Frederick Marryat’s criticism of the book’s liberties with natural history.

Read the University of California study (PDF)

David Blamires — “The Swiss Family Robinson,” in Telling Tales: The Impact of Germany on English Children’s Books 1780–1918


Literary scholar David Blamires examines the book’s place in children’s literature and describes its appeal as a combination of adventure, danger, and discovery with paternal instruction in botany, zoology, and geography. He also describes the Robinson family’s island as an educational rather than geographically realistic setting.

Read the chapter through JSTOR

Cambridge University Press — Children’s Books in English


This scholarly reference provides historical context for the Robinsonade adventure tradition and notes that Captain Frederick Marryat was irritated by Johann David Wyss’s inaccuracies in natural history, geography, and seamanship. Marryat subsequently wrote Masterman Ready (1841).

Read the Cambridge University Press excerpt (PDF)

Encyclopedia of Adventure Fiction


This reference work places Swiss Family Robinson within the adventure-fiction tradition and provides useful examples of the extraordinary variety of animals and other elements found in the story. It is helpful for seeing just how far Wyss’s fictional island departs from a realistic ecosystem.

Read the Encyclopedia of Adventure Fiction (PDF)

Journal of Biogeography — Island Biogeography


For readers interested in the science behind the problem, this scientific literature explains how isolation, dispersal, colonization, competition, and extinction shape the plants and animals found on islands. It provides useful background for understanding why an isolated tropical island could not simply contain animals from widely separated parts of the world.

Read the Journal of Biogeography article

A Reader’s Perspective

iNaturalist Forum — “Does your nature knowledge spoil fiction?”
This discussion offers a more informal, reader-oriented look at the biological problems in The Swiss Family Robinson. Participants point out the story’s geographically improbable mixture of plants and animals. While this is not an authoritative scientific source, it provides an interesting example of how modern readers recognize the same tension between storytelling and natural history.

Read the iNaturalist discussion

Truth, Fiction, and Storytelling

Barbara Kingsolver — Author’s Website
Kingsolver discusses the relationship between factual accuracy and invention in fiction, including how writers use real places while exercising creative freedom. Her discussion provides useful context for thinking about the larger question of how much factual accuracy we should expect from a fictional story.

Read Barbara Kingsolver’s discussion of fact and fiction

The Original Story

Project Gutenberg — The Swiss Family Robinson
For readers who want to explore the story itself, Project Gutenberg provides a freely accessible version of the text. Reading the original makes it possible to see firsthand how frequently the family’s adventures become opportunities for the father to explain nature, science, practical skills, and other subjects to his sons.

Read The Swiss Family Robinson at Project Gutenberg

What Mr. Rogers Taught Us About Raising Good Neighbors

Posted on by Bob Richley
Illustrated autumn neighborhood with neighbors, homes, trees, and a dog

August 31, 2001, was a significant day in children’s television and a sad one in many ways. It was the final time a new episode of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood aired.

For more than thirty years, Fred Rogers invited children into his neighborhood. He changed his shoes, put on his cardigan, fed his fish, talked with children about things that mattered, and then took us to the Neighborhood of Make-Believe.

  • He talked about feelings.
  • He talked about friendship.
  • He talked about being different.
  • He talked about disappointment, fear, kindness, responsibility, and forgiveness.

He did something that seems almost strange today: He slowed down. Far different from much entertainment aimed at kids, there was no constant stream of stimulation, no need to make everything louder, faster, or more exciting. Instead, he talked quietly to children. And he treated them as though what they thought and felt mattered.

I’ve been thinking about Fred Rogers because so much of what he believed about children connects with what I’ve been writing about in these Family Values articles—especially the importance of reading and using stories to teach children how to live.

I don’t think Fred Rogers and I would have agreed on everything.

But I think we would have agreed on something important:

Children are worth our time and attention.

Mr. Rogers Took Children Seriously

Fred Rogers wasn’t originally a television celebrity.

After graduating from college in 1951, he went into television (not the military, as some falsely claimed). But he eventually returned to Pittsburgh, where he became involved with WQED and children’s programming. While working in children’s television, he also studied child development and worked closely with psychologist Margaret McFarland.

That relationship was important.

Fred didn’t simply decide what children needed based on what he thought would make entertaining television. He wanted his programs to reflect what was actually happening in the lives and development of children.

That tells me something about the way he viewed children. He didn’t see them as little adults. But he also didn’t see them as foolish or naive. He trusted them with heavy topics.

Bigotry

The Wading Pool Scene (1969): During an era when many public swimming pools were still segregated or hostile to Black Americans, Fred Rogers invited François Clemmons—who played Officer Clemmons—to cool his feet in a small plastic pool with him. Rogers then shared his towel to dry Clemmons’ feet, much like Jesus washed his disciples’ feet, delivering a powerful, silent visual message against racial discrimination and exclusion.

Death, Assassination, and Tragedy

  • Assassination Specials: Following national tragedies like the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert F. Kennedy in 1968, Rogers created special segments to help children process political violence, loss, and fear.
  • Death and Pet Loss: He addressed the concept of death directly—such as when a goldfish died in the neighborhood—teaching children that it is natural to feel sad and confused by finality.

War and Conflict

And he shall judge among the nations, and shall rebuke many people: and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruninghooks: nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.

Divorce and Family Changes

  • Divorce: Rogers tackled the emotional impact of parents separating. He assured young viewers that even when adults go through difficult changes and painful emotions, a child is never the cause of a divorce and remains deeply loved.
  • Episodes 1476–1480 — “Divorce” (February 16–20, 1981)
  • This is another five-episode series: Prince Tuesday worries that his parents are going to divorce and even believes the conflict is his fault. The episodes repeatedly reinforce that adult problems are not the child’s fault and give children opportunities to express their fears and feelings.

Disability Rights

Inclusion and Accessibility: Rogers featured guests with disabilities, such as Jeff Erlanger, a young boy using an electric wheelchair. Rogers spoke to him with complete equality and dignity, normalizing disabilities and answering children’s curious questions without pity or stigma.

Difficult Subjects Need to Be Discussed

One of the things I admire most about Fred Rogers is that he didn’t believe children needed to be protected from every difficult subject. He believed they needed caring adults who could help them understand those subjects. He was one of those adults and encouraged others to be.

Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood addressed difficult subjects such as racism, death, divorce, disability, fear, conflict, and other subjects that adults sometimes hesitate to discuss with children. Rogers didn’t simply tell children what to think. He gave them a safe place to encounter difficult ideas, ask questions, express their feelings, and begin making sense of the world around them. He demonstrated these traits through his actions and through stories in The Neighborhood of Make-Believe.

My Own Writing

That is something I have tried to do in my own writing.

My middle-grade novel, Redeeming Rhubarb, also deals with a difficult subject: prejudice and racism. The story was inspired by the real 2013 Boulder, Colorado floods, but the adventure becomes a way for young readers to explore what happens when fear and assumptions cause us to judge people we don’t really know.

The goal isn’t to give children a lecture about prejudice. It’s to give them a story they can experience.

A child can watch characters make choices, see the consequences of those choices, and then talk about what happened. Why did that character act that way? Was it right? What caused the fear? How did the other person feel? What could have been done differently? And, as Christian families, what does Scripture teach us about how we should treat other people?

That approach is very important to me.

Conversations

Like Fred Rogers, I believe difficult subjects can become opportunities for meaningful conversations when children have a trusted adult beside them.

That’s one reason I believe books matter.

A good story doesn’t have to answer every question for a child. Sometimes it simply needs to open the door to a conversation that might not have happened otherwise.

That’s what I hope Redeeming Rhubarb does.

And that’s one of the lessons I take from Mr. Rogers: we don’t help children by pretending difficult things don’t exist. We help them by walking with them as they learn how to face those things—with truth, compassion, courage, and love.

Understanding Children

Fred Rodgers understood that children have real fears, real questions, real disappointments, and real emotions.

Sometimes adults are tempted to dismiss those things.

  • “You’re okay.”
  • “Don’t worry about it.”
  • “It’s not a big deal.”

But to a child, it may be a very big deal. Mr. Rogers was willing to talk about those things. And perhaps that is one reason children trusted him. He didn’t preach. He spoke gently and, more often than not, demonstrated his lesson through a “make-believe” story.

Stories Give Children a Safe Place to Learn

His philosophy has a strong connection to reading. I’ve written before about why I believe books are such an important tool for teaching children values. It’s important to read aloud to kids. We can choose books that teach life lessons. We can teach biblical values through literature.

A child may resist a lecture about honesty, but put a character in a story who lies, and suddenly the child can watch what happens.

  • A character makes a selfish decision.
  • Another character forgives.
  • Someone faces a difficult choice.
  • Someone else shows courage.

The child gets to see the consequences without having to experience every consequence personally.That’s one of the great gifts of literature.

Stories give children a safe place to wrestle with difficult ideas.

Fred Rogers understood something similar.

His television program used stories, puppets, music, and the Neighborhood of Make-Believe to help children think about the issues they were facing in real life. His conversations with child-development expert Margaret McFarland helped him make those stories relevant to children’s actual concerns.

The medium was different.

He used television.

I’m talking about books.

But the principle is remarkably similar.

A story can open a door that a lecture can’t.

Fred Rogers Loved Books

There’s another connection that I find especially interesting.

Fred Rogers himself developed a love of reading as a child because of his childhood librarian, whom he called “Aunt” Sara McComb. According to the Fred Rogers Institute, Fred frequently mentioned her when talking about books and reading. She shared her love of books with children at the library, and Fred learned from that experience. There’s something beautiful about that.

One person who loved books helped a child develop a love for reading. That child eventually became the man millions of children trusted. And decades later, we’re still talking about him. It reminds me that we don’t always know what our influence will become.

  • Maybe you’re the parent reading a bedtime story tonight.
  • Maybe you’re the grandparent taking a child to the library.
  • Maybe you’re the teacher recommending a book.
  • Maybe you’re the librarian who remembers a child’s name.

It may seem like a small thing.

But it may not be small to the child.

An anonymous usher stopped a teenage Billy Graham from walking away from a packed 1934 tent revival in Charlotte, North Carolina. He found seats for Billy and his friend. The revival led Billy Graham to make Jesus his savior. Billy Graham impacted millions of lives and led many of those into a relationship with Jesus. The usher did a small thing, but it had a big impact, a huge ripple effect. Aunt Sara did one small thing that impacted millions of children through Fred Rogers.

Reading Is About More Than Reading

I’ve said this before, but it is worth repeating.

The goal isn’t simply to get through more books. The goal is to let good books get into our children.

When our children were younger, we would snuggle together and read. One of my favorite family memories is reading Charlotte’s Web together, a chapter at a time.

We weren’t simply completing a book. We were sharing an experience. That’s an important distinction.

Reading aloud develops literacy, vocabulary, comprehension, and imagination. But something else happens when a parent sits beside a child and reads.

We build a relationship.

We’re saying:

  • You matter to me.
  • What you’re interested in matters to me.
  • I want to spend time with you.

Fred Rogers understood the importance of that kind of relationship.

His television program wasn’t designed merely to give children information. He wanted children to feel that they were being welcomed by someone who cared about them.

The famous question in his theme song wasn’t simply an invitation to watch television.

It was an invitation into relationship.

Won’t you be my neighbor?

What Happens When We Read Together?

One of my favorite things about reading with children is the conversation that follows. Sometimes the conversation isn’t even about the book.

  • A character makes a choice.
    • “What do you think about that?”
  • A character hurts someone.
    • “Why do you think she did that?”
  • Someone gets treated unfairly.
    • “Was that right?”
  • Someone shows courage.
    • “Would you have been brave enough to do that?”
  • And sometimes we can go even deeper.
    • “What does the Bible say about that?”

Now the book has become a bridge.We’re no longer simply talking about a fictional character. We’re talking about life.

I’ve written about this before because I don’t want my children simply to memorize a list of rules.

  • I want them to learn how to think.
  • I want them to recognize good and evil.
  • I want them to understand consequences.
  • I want them to develop empathy.
  • I want them to ask questions.
  • And ultimately, I want them to compare what they encounter in the world with God’s Word.

A good book can help us do that.

The Final Neighborhood

There’s something almost fitting about what happened in the final episode of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.

The final week was called “Celebrate the Arts.”

In the Neighborhood of Make-Believe, Lady Elaine had appointed herself the judge of everyone’s artwork. But by the end, instead of judging the other characters, she created a collage celebrating them.

The final episode aired on August 31, 2001.

Think about that.

A program that spent decades teaching children about feelings, relationships, and how we treat one another ended with a story about moving from judgment toward appreciation. That seems remarkably appropriate.

Fred Rogers understood that how we feel about ourselves can affect how we treat other people. And isn’t that something our children still need to learn?

  • A child who feels loved can learn to love.
  • A child who experiences forgiveness can learn to forgive.
  • A child who is listened to can learn to listen.
  • A child who is treated with patience can learn patience.

A child who spends years hearing good stories about courage, kindness, sacrifice, friendship, and forgiveness has a vocabulary for understanding those things when they encounter them in real life.

We Can’t Always Be There

There comes a point when our children leave the house.

  • We can’t follow them everywhere.
  • We can’t hear every conversation.
  • We can’t see every decision.
  • We can’t answer every question.

That’s one reason I believe so strongly in giving children good books. A good story can stay with them. Years after we’ve finished reading a book, a character may come back to them.

  • They may remember what happened to Wilbur.
  • They may remember Charlotte’s sacrifice.
  • They may remember Heidi’s love for her grandfather.
  • They may remember a character who showed courage when courage was difficult.

And perhaps, at some point, they’ll face their own difficult decision and remember that story. That’s when the book has become something more than a book. It has become part of them.

What Kind of Neighbors Are We Raising?

Fred Rogers wanted children to understand that they were valuable and that other people mattered.

I want the same thing for my children, but I want to go one step further.

  • I want them to understand why people matter.
  • I want them to understand that every person is created by God.
  • I want them to understand that Jesus commanded us to love our neighbors.
  • I want them to understand that loving someone doesn’t mean approving of everything that person does.
  • I want them to understand forgiveness without confusing forgiveness with pretending that wrong doesn’t matter.
  • I want them to understand that courage sometimes means standing up for what is right.
  • I want them to understand that compassion means looking beyond the surface and trying to understand another person’s story.

Those lessons don’t have to come only through lectures. They can come through conversations. They can come through Scripture. And they can come through stories.

Start With One Book

You don’t need a huge library or a complicated curriculum. You don’t need to spend hours preparing a lesson. Start with one book. Sit beside your child.

  • Read.
  • Listen.
  • Talk.
  • Ask questions.
  • And when the story presents an opportunity, take it.
    • “What would you have done?”
    • “Why do you think he did that?”
    • “Was that a good choice?”
    • “How did that make the other person feel?”
    • “What does the Bible say about this?”
    • Then listen to the answer.
  • Don’t immediately correct.
  • Don’t turn every conversation into a sermon.

Sometimes our children need us to listen more than they need us to talk.

Fred Rogers understood the power of listening, slowing down, and taking children seriously.

I think we could use a little more of that today.

One Child. One Book. One Conversation.

The last original episode of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood aired twenty-five years ago.

Fred Rogers died in 2003, but the neighborhood he created hasn’t really disappeared. His impact hasn’t left us.

  • Every time we teach a child to be kind, we extend it.
  • Every time we listen to a child’s question, we extend it.
  • Every time we help a child understand someone else’s feelings, we extend it.
  • And every time we sit down with a child and open a good book, we have another opportunity to build that kind of neighborhood in our own home.

We don’t have to change the world all at once.

We can start much smaller.

  • One child.
  • One book.
  • One conversation.

Maybe that’s how we raise better neighbors.

And maybe, years from now, our children will remember those quiet moments—not because we gave them another lesson, but because we gave them something better.

  • We gave them our time.
  • We gave them our attention.
  • We gave them stories.

And through those stories, we helped them discover what it means to love God, love their neighbor, and live a life of character.

That’s a legacy worth leaving behind.

References

The following sources were consulted for the information about Fred Rogers and Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood discussed in this article.

  • Fred Rogers Institute — About Fred Rogers
    A comprehensive biography covering Fred Rogers’ childhood, education, family, early television career, study of child development, work with psychologist Margaret McFarland, and his philosophy of serving children and families.
    About Fred Rogers — Fred Rogers Institute
  • Fred Rogers Productions — Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood
    Information about the purpose of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood, its approach to children, and its learning goals, including empathy, imagination, respect, self-esteem, emotional regulation, and social skills.
    Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood — Fred Rogers Productions
  • Fred Rogers Institute — Fred Rogers Archive
    An Extensive archive preserves more than 22,000 items from Fred Rogers’ life and work, including writings, photographs, scripts, and other materials that document his ideas about childhood, families, education, and reading.
    Fred Rogers Institute Archive
  • Fred Rogers Institute — The Simple Spiral of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood
    Documents the first episode, which aired February 19, 1968, and the final original episode, #1765, Mister Rogers Celebrates the Arts, which aired August 31, 2001. It also discusses the closing moments of both episodes and the continuity of Rogers’ message throughout the series.
    The Simple Spiral of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood
  • The Neighborhood Archive — Episode 1765
    Detailed information about the final original episode, Mister Rogers Celebrates the Arts, including its August 31, 2001 air date and the stories and activities featured in the episode.
    Episode 1765 — The Neighborhood Archive
  • The Washington Post — “For Mister Rogers, a Final Day in the Neighborhood”
    Contemporary reporting published September 1, 2001, describing the final new episode and Fred Rogers’ decision to end the series without a traditional television farewell.
    For Mister Rogers, a Final Day in the Neighborhood — The Washington Post

Learn more about Redeeming Rhubarb: Redeeming Rhubarb — Reading With Your Kids

Explore Bob Richley’s books and resources: Bob Richley — Christ-Centered Books for Families.

Dolly Parton’s Legacy: Inspiring Childhood Literacy

Posted on by Bob Richley
Rocking chair, books, and coffee on a porch overlooking sunset mountains

Dolly Parton, Books, and the Gift of Imagination

We’ve all heard the news of the recent passing of Dolly Parton, singer, songwriter, entrepreneur, and philanthropist. She died on August 25, 2026, at the age of 80.

I find it strange that I feel sad about the death of a celebrity I never knew personally. Perhaps because we “see” celebrities so much in the media, they become familiar to us. We hear their voices, watch their interviews, listen to their songs, and learn pieces of their stories. It can almost feel as though we know them.

When a celebrity dies, I often find myself researching their life. My curiosity is stirred, and I’m amazed by what I discover.

That’s what happened with Dolly Parton.

Most people know Dolly as a singer and songwriter. Many know about her business success and Dollywood. But as I learned more about her life, I was especially interested in something that has little to do with her music.

Dolly Parton has given hundreds of millions of books to children.

Why?

The answer begins with her childhood.

A Child of Faith and Poverty

Dolly grew up poor in Locust Ridge in the mountains of East Tennessee. She was one of twelve children raised in a small one-room home in the Great Smoky Mountains. Her family had little money and few material possessions. There was no electricity or running water.

But poverty didn’t mean that Dolly’s family lacked something important.

  • They had faith.
  • They had family.
  • And they had music.

Dolly’s father worked hard to provide for his family. He would get up early to work on the farm and then go to another job to earn money. He did whatever he could to put food on the table.

Dolly’s childhood wasn’t easy, but it helped shape the woman she would become.

Her family was deeply connected to the church. Her grandfather was a preacher in a local mountain church, and Dolly began singing hymns and playing guitar when she was a child.

Faith became part of the foundation of her life.

Dolly has spoken openly about her belief in God throughout her life. Her music includes numerous gospel songs, and her faith has continued to influence her work.

She believed that with God all things were possible. The belief shapped her legacy.

But there was another lesson from her childhood that would eventually inspire one of her greatest contributions to children.

The Father Who Couldn’t Read

Dolly has described her father as one of the smartest men she ever knew.

He had a brilliant mind for numbers and a natural talent for business. He knew how to bargain and negotiate and could make a good deal. But there was something he couldn’t do. He couldn’t read or write. Her father had to leave school at a young age to work and help support his family. Growing up in rural Appalachia, educational opportunities were limited. His inability to read didn’t mean he lacked intelligence. Quite the opposite.

He was a smart, hardworking man who simply hadn’t been given the opportunity to learn something many of us take for granted. Dolly saw how that limitation affected him.

Years later, that memory would become the seed of an extraordinary idea.

Motivated by Faith—and by Her Father

Dolly’s faith and upbringing shaped the way she viewed children and opportunity.

She had experienced poverty. She knew what it meant to grow up without many resources. And she knew what it was like to watch someone she loved have his opportunities limited because he couldn’t read.

She could have simply remembered her childhood. Instead, she did something with it.

In 1995, Dolly Parton founded Dolly Parton’s Imagination Library in her home county of Sevier County, Tennessee. She wanted to give children an opportunity her father had never had: the chance to grow up with books and develop a love of reading.

That small beginning became something enormous.

The Book Lady

The Imagination Library mails a new, age-appropriate book every month to registered children from birth through age five. There is no charge to participating families. Funding is shared between Dolly Parton’s organization and local community partners.

The program now operates in the United States, Canada, the United Kingdom, Australia, and the Republic of Ireland.

And the numbers are staggering.

By the end of 2025, the Imagination Library had gifted 304,539,509 books since its founding. More than 40 million books were gifted during 2025 alone.

Think about that.

More than 300 million books.

One little girl growing up in the mountains of Tennessee remembered that her father couldn’t read, and decades later, motivated by faith, millions of children around the world are receiving books because of it.

That’s quite a legacy.

Why Give Children Books?

Why books?

Because books do more than teach children how to read.

Books introduce children to courage, sacrifice, kindness, forgiveness, perseverance, friendship, consequences, and countless other values.

  • A child meets a character who faces a difficult decision and gets to watch what happens.
  • A character makes a selfish choice and suffers the consequences.
  • Another character sacrifices for someone else.
  • Another forgives.
  • Another refuses to give up.

Through stories, children can encounter difficult questions in a safe environment.

They can learn from someone else’s mistakes without having to make those mistakes themselves.

That’s one reason I believe so strongly in reading with children.

Dolly’s Gift Goes Beyond Literacy

A free book says something to a child.

  • You matter.
  • Your imagination matters.
  • Your future matters.

The Imagination Library certainly encourages literacy, but its purpose goes beyond simply helping children learn to read. Its stated mission is to inspire a love of reading by putting quality books into children’s hands.

And there’s an important difference between giving a child a book and reading a book with a child.

When we read aloud together, we are not simply helping children develop vocabulary and reading skills. We are sharing an experience.

We can ask questions.

  • “What do you think she should do?”
  • “Why did he make that choice?”
  • “What would you have done?”
  • “Was that fair?”
  • “What does the Bible say about that?”

The book becomes a doorway into conversation.

I’ve written before about the importance of reading aloud with our kids. Reading together builds connection as well as literacy.

It’s similar to why I play with my kids.

When I get down on the floor and play a game with my daughters, I’m entering their world. I’m telling them without saying a word, What matters to you matters to me.

Games give us opportunities to learn, too. There are rules to follow, turns to take, victories to celebrate, and disappointments to handle. We learn how to win graciously and lose graciously.

In other words, ordinary family activities can become opportunities to teach character.

What Can Parents Learn From Dolly?

Most of us will never have millions of dollars to give away.

We don’t have to.

Dolly Parton’s example reminds us that we can start with what we have. Try these:

  • Read to your children.
  • Give them good books.
  • Visit the library.
  • Talk about the stories you read.
  • Ask questions.
  • Listen to their answers.
  • Build a family culture around books and stories.

We don’t have to wait until we have a foundation, a corporation, or a million dollars to invest in children.

We can start with one child and one book.

What Stories Are We Putting Into Our Children’s Hearts?

Dolly’s legacy also raises another question.

What books are we putting into our children’s hands?

If books teach lessons—and I believe they do—we need to pay attention to those lessons.

Not every book teaches the values we want our children to absorb. Some stories may contain ideas that contradict our family’s values or what Scripture teaches.

That doesn’t mean every book has to be perfect.

It does mean we should be intentional.

Ask quesitons like:

  • What is this story teaching?
  • What choices do the characters make?
  • What happens because of those choices?
  • What does the story celebrate?
  • Do those values agree with our family’s values?
  • Do they agree with Scripture?

I’ve written more about this in Choosing Books That Teach Life Lessons.

As an Author…

I know something about the power of putting a story into a child’s hands.

That’s one reason I wrote Redeeming Rhubarb.

  • I wanted children to enjoy a story about a mouse and a rat while wrestling with bigger questions about prejudice, forgiveness, friendship, courage, and doing what is right.
  • I don’t expect a book to replace a parent.
  • I want the book to help parents have conversations with their children.

That’s what I find so inspiring about Dolly Parton’s Imagination Library. Dolly understood something that I believe every parent should understand:

Books can open doors.

  • They open doors to imagination.
  • They open doors to knowledge.
  • They open doors to empathy.
  • They open doors to difficult questions.
  • And sometimes, they open doors to faith and character.

Dolly gave children books because she remembered what her father had been denied.

She took something painful from her childhood and turned it into something beautiful for millions of children.

That’s a legacy worth remembering.

A Legacy We Can Continue

Dolly Parton gave away more than 300 million books.

Most of us won’t come close to that number.

But perhaps we don’t need to.

  • We can give one book to one child.
  • We can sit beside that child and read it.
  • We can ask a question.
  • We can listen.
  • We can talk about the choices the characters made.
  • We can connect those choices to the values we want our children to develop.
  • And then we can pick up another book.

Perhaps that’s how a legacy begins. Not with millions of dollars. Not with fame. But with one child, one book, and one conversation.

Dolly Parton gave children the gift of imagination. We can help them use that imagination to learn, grow, and become the people God created them to be.

5 Children’s Books That Teach Important Life Values

Posted on by Bob Richley
Open The Secret of Eldritch Forest, Holy Bible, and BOOKWORM mug

Why Teach Values Through Literature?

Stories are a beautiful way to teach valuable lessons. Stories take away our defenses because events are happening to fictional characters. We are pulled into the events and feel for the characters. When we do, the characters can teach us through the consequences of their actions. It gives us a chance to learn from their mistakes without us making them ourselves.

A child may resist a lecture about honesty, courage, forgiveness, or kindness. But let that same child encounter a character who lies, and suddenly the child has an opportunity to see where dishonesty leads.

We can ask, “Was that a good choice?”

The child isn’t being lectured. We’re talking about a character in a story.

Then we can ask, “What would you have done?”

Now we’re talking about the child’s own values.

That is the power of literature. Stories create a safe place to wrestle with difficult questions.

Jesus understood the power of stories. Much of His teaching came through parables. Rather than simply telling people what to believe, He often placed them inside a story and allowed them to wrestle with its meaning.

Children can learn in the same way.

Criteria for Selecting Children’s Books

When choosing books to teach lessons, I prefer to look at the classics. They are timeless, and the lessons are often invaluable. Because these books have stood the test of time, we know the stories have entertained children over generations, and the lessons haven’t grown outdated.

Many of the classics also contain Christian values, sometimes because of the Christian culture in which they were written. Heidi, for example, contains themes of forgiveness and redemption. Heidi’s love helps restore her grandfather, and the story even draws on the biblical story of the Prodigal Son.

The Swiss Family Robinson was written by Johann David Wyss, whose story follows a family relying on God’s provision as they survive on a deserted island. The family regularly gives thanks to God for what He provides.

These stories weren’t written as children’s sermons. That’s part of what makes them so useful.

The story comes first. The lesson emerges from the story.

If you choose newer books, do a little research. Read the book yourself or read reliable summaries and reviews. Ask:

  • What lessons are being taught?
  • What choices do the characters make?
  • What happens as a result of those choices?
  • What values does the story celebrate?
  • Do those values align with our family’s values?
  • More importantly, do they align with Scripture?

Not every book will teach everything we want our children to learn. That’s okay. We don’t need every story to be perfect. We need to be intentional about what we put in front of our children and prepared to discuss what they encounter.

Don’t Just Read the Story—Discuss It

Reading the book is only the beginning.

One of my favorite ways to teach values through literature is to ask questions after—or sometimes even during—the story.

What did the character do?

Why did he do it?

Was it a good choice?

How did that choice affect other people?

What would you have done?

Has anything like that ever happened to you?

What does the Bible say about this?

These questions turn reading into a conversation.

I don’t want my children merely to know that a character made a good or bad choice. I want them to understand why it was good or bad and to begin thinking about how they would respond in a similar situation.

That distinction matters.

I’m not simply trying to give my children a list of rules. I want to help them develop the ability to recognize truth, evaluate choices, understand consequences, and make wise decisions when I’m not there to tell them what to do.

Five Classics, Five Opportunities to Teach Values

Treasure Island — Integrity and Courage

Jim Hawkins finds himself surrounded by people who are deceptive, selfish, and willing to betray others to get what they want. Yet Jim repeatedly has opportunities to choose courage and loyalty rather than simply looking out for himself.

That allows parents to ask, “What would you do if doing the right thing put you in danger?” Is courage the absence of fear, or doing what is right even when we’re afraid?

Heidi — Forgiveness and Redemption

Heidi provides a beautiful picture of how love and forgiveness can transform a hardened heart. Heidi’s grandfather has withdrawn from society because of bitterness and painful experiences. Heidi doesn’t lecture him into changing. Her presence, love, and childlike faith help soften his heart and reconnect him with others.

The story can lead to questions such as: Can love change someone? Is it possible to forgive someone who has hurt us? What happens when we refuse to forgive?

Heidi reads the story of the Prodigal Son to her grandfather, and it impacts him. He thought he was unworthy of love, but through this story and Heidi’s own love, he sees that redemption is possible.

A Little Princess — Character When Circumstances Change

Sara Crewe’s circumstances change dramatically. She goes from living a privileged life at boarding school to becoming a servant after her father dies and his fortune disappears.

Yet Sara tries to maintain her kindness, imagination, generosity, and dignity even when she has almost nothing.

That raises an important question for our children: Who are you when you don’t get what you want?

It is easy to be kind when life is going well. Sara shows us that character is revealed when circumstances become difficult.

Sara sacrifices for someone else, giving a beggar food when she is hungry herself. It’s easy to be generous when you have much, but much harder when you have little. Sara demonstrates true character and generosity, giving out of her own need, much like the Biblical story of the Widow’s Mite. Jesus commended a widow who gave all she had, while others gave from their abundance.

The Secret Garden — Transformation

Mary Lennox begins the story as a selfish, unpleasant, and lonely child. Through friendship, responsibility, nature, and caring for the secret garden, she begins to change.

The transformation is one of the most valuable lessons in the book: people can change.

Parents can ask, “Why was Mary unhappy at the beginning?” What caused her to change? Who helped her change? Can we choose to become different people?

The garden itself provides a wonderful picture for children. Something neglected and seemingly dead can be cared for until life begins to appear again.

That can open a conversation about our own hearts. What happens when we nurture something good? What happens when we neglect it?

Pollyanna — Gratitude and Choosing Joy

Pollyanna’s “glad game” can be more than just a cute idea for children. It can become a conversation about gratitude and perspective. Pollyanna doesn’t pretend that bad things aren’t bad. She chooses to look for something good even in difficult circumstances.

Parents can ask, “Does being grateful mean pretending everything is good?” What’s the difference between gratitude and ignoring problems? How can looking for something good change the way we respond to difficult circumstances?

This connects beautifully with Paul’s instruction to give thanks in all circumstances. Pollyanna gives children a story-based way to begin thinking about what that might look like.

The “glad game” was based on rejoicing scriptures. It was taught by Pollyanna’s missionary father, who counted more than 800 references to rejoicing and gladness in the Bible.

Stories Give Children Something to Remember

These books illustrate why I prefer teaching values through stories. I could tell my children, “Be courageous.” But Jim Hawkins gives them a picture of courage. I could tell them, “Forgive people.” Heidi gives them a picture of forgiveness and redemption. I could tell them, “Character matters more than circumstances.” Sara Crewe gives them a picture of that truth. I could tell them, “People can change.” Mary Lennox gives them a picture of transformation. I could tell them, “Be grateful.” Pollyanna gives them a picture of choosing gratitude and joy.

The story gives the lesson a face.

Years later, a child may not remember the lecture we gave about courage. But they may remember Jim Hawkins.

They may not remember everything we said about forgiveness. But they may remember Heidi and her grandfather.

That’s the beauty of literature. A story gives children something to remember when the lesson becomes necessary.

Stories create a safe place for children to wrestle with difficult questions.

Choose Books With Imperfect Characters

Perfect characters aren’t very interesting—and they’re not very useful for teaching children.

Children need to see characters who make mistakes, struggle with temptation, become afraid, get angry, make selfish choices, and sometimes make things right.

Why?

Because children make mistakes too.

When a child sees a character struggle with jealousy, fear, pride, dishonesty, or selfishness, the child can recognize something of himself in that character. The story gives us a way to talk about those struggles without immediately making the conversation personal.

“What do you think she should have done?”

is sometimes a much easier question for a child to answer than:

“Why did you do that?”

Stories allow us to approach difficult character issues indirectly. Then, once the child begins thinking about the character, the conversation can naturally move toward real life.

Look for Consequences

One of the most valuable things stories can show children is that choices have consequences.

  • A character lies and loses someone’s trust.
  • A character is selfish and loses a friendship.
  • A character shows courage and protects someone vulnerable.
  • A character forgives and begins to restore a broken relationship.
  • A character refuses to give up and eventually succeeds.

These consequences help children understand that character isn’t just about following rules. Our choices affect other people.

And sometimes stories show something even more important: doing the right thing doesn’t always produce an immediate reward.

A character may sacrifice something and suffer because of it. A character may forgive someone who doesn’t deserve forgiveness. A character may tell the truth even when lying would be easier.

Those are opportunities to talk about biblical values that go deeper than “good choices lead to good things.”

Connect the Story to Scripture

As a Christian parent, I don’t want to stop with the moral of the story.

Does the story echo something Scripture teaches?

  • A story about sacrifice can lead us to talk about Christ.
  • A story about forgiveness can lead us to the Lord’s Prayer.
  • A story about loving an enemy can lead us to Jesus’ command in Matthew 5:44.
  • A story about courage can lead us to Joshua 1:9.
  • A story about caring for someone who is hurting can lead us to the Good Samaritan.
  • The story gives us a bridge.

We can start with the character and eventually arrive at Scripture.

But there is an important caution here: we shouldn’t force a biblical lesson into every story.

Sometimes a story teaches something that doesn’t completely align with Scripture. Sometimes it teaches a mixture of truth and error. That’s not necessarily a reason to throw the book away.

It may be an opportunity for an even better conversation.

We can say, “The character did this, but what does the Bible say about that?”

Now our children aren’t simply absorbing a message from a book. They are learning to compare what they encounter with God’s Word.

Create a Reading Routine

Choose a regular time to read with your kids.

We often read as part of the bedtime routine. Keep it as regular as you can.

It doesn’t have to be elaborate. You don’t need a special reading chair or an hour of uninterrupted time. Even fifteen or twenty minutes can become an important part of family life.

When our children were younger, we would snuggle together and read. Sometimes we read only one book. Other times, we’d read a few or even the same one again.

One of my favorite family memories is reading Charlotte’s Web together, a chapter at a time. We weren’t simply completing a book. We were sharing an experience.

That’s what I want parents to remember.

The goal isn’t to get through more books. The goal is to let good books get into our children.

Make Reading a Conversation

Don’t feel like you have to interrupt every page with a question. Sometimes the best thing you can do is enjoy the story together.

But when a natural opportunity appears, take it.

If a character makes an interesting choice, pause.

If something surprises your child, ask what they think.

If your child becomes angry at a character, ask why.

If your child admires someone, ask what they admire about that person.

And listen.

The conversation may go somewhere you didn’t expect.

That’s okay.

In fact, that’s often the best part.

Our children are developing their own understanding of right and wrong. We have the privilege of helping them think through those ideas while they are still young and while they still want to talk with us.

Let Stories Become Part of Family Life

Over time, something wonderful happens when you read this way.

Stories become shorthand for values.

You may encounter a situation in everyday life and say, “Remember what happened to Sara?”

Or, “That reminds me of what Charlotte did for Wilbur.”

Or, “What would Heidi do?”

The story has moved beyond the pages of the book. It has become part of your family’s shared language.

That is one of the reasons I love teaching values through literature.

We can’t always be beside our children when they face difficult choices. We can’t always tell them what to do.

But we can give them stories that help them recognize courage when they see it, understand compassion when it is needed, recognize selfishness when it tempts them, and remember that forgiveness is possible.

A good story doesn’t simply entertain a child. It gives a child a picture of who they can become.

Start With One Book

You don’t need to build a huge library.

Choose one good book.

Read it together.

Talk about the characters.

Ask questions.

Listen to your child’s answers.

Look for opportunities to connect the story to Scripture and to everyday life.

Then pick up another book.

Over the years, those stories will accumulate—not just on the bookshelf, but in your child’s imagination and character.

And someday, when your child faces a difficult choice, you may not be there to answer.

But perhaps a story will be.

And perhaps, through that story, your child will remember something you talked about together.

That is why teaching values through literature is worth the time.

We aren’t just raising children who know how to read. We’re helping raise people who know how to live.

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. There were 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 and lost my wedding ring in the process. I put that volunteer spirit in the book. Some homes were damaged and others missed, so 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. However, 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.

Discussing Love and Enmity Through Heartland and Rhubarb

Posted on by Bob Richley
A black dog and an orange-and-white cat sitting in snow facing a lit barn; a gray tabby cat and a raccoon on a garden bench under the full moon

My family has been enjoying the Canadian show Heartland for 2 seasons now. Last night we watched “Step by Step,” the 18th and final episode of season two of the CBC family drama Heartland. It originally aired on March 22, 2009. In this episode, Amy and Ty are stranded at a remote mountain cabin during a blizzard while trying to feed wild horses.

While watching the episode, I noticed a theme that also appears in my book Redeeming Rhubarb: an enemy helps when someone is in danger. In one subplot, Lou finally confesses to Jack that she is dating Peter, the oilman. The oilman is considered the enemy of Grandfather Jack. In fact, Jack doesn’t want Peter in the house and calls him the enemy, but when Peter learns that Amy and Ty are trapped, he offers to help. He sends crews with plows to clear the road, allowing Amy and Ty to return home.

In Redeeming Rhubarb, a rat named Barnabas moves into Rhubarb’s neighborhood. Rhubarb is a mouse and hates rats. Barnabas is considered an enemy; however, when Rhubarb’s daughter needs help, Barnabas risks his life to save her, echoing Peter’s help to Amy and Ty and reinforcing the same theme.

Loving Our Enemies

What struck me about both stories is that neither Peter nor Barnabas waits for the person who considers him an enemy to change his mind first. When someone is in danger, he simply helps.

That raises a difficult question for families to discuss: What does it mean to love our enemies?

It is easy to be kind to people who are kind to us. It is easy to help our friends, defend the people we like, and show compassion to people who agree with us. The real test comes when the person who needs help is someone who dislikes us—or even someone we dislike.

Jesus gave His followers a challenging command:

“But I say unto you which hear, Love your enemies, do good to them which hate you,” — Luke 6:27 (KJV)

Notice that Jesus doesn’t merely tell us not to hate our enemies. He tells us to love them and do good to them.

That is exactly what makes the actions of Peter and Barnabas so interesting.

Peter: Helping the Family That Rejects Him

Jack has already decided what Peter represents. Peter is the oilman—the enemy. Jack doesn’t even want him in his house.

Yet when Amy and Ty are stranded during the blizzard, Peter has an opportunity to respond to that hostility. He could have thought, Jack doesn’t want me around, so why should I help his family?

Instead, he uses the resources available to him. He sends crews and snowplows to help clear the road.

Peter’s actions don’t instantly erase the conflict between him and Jack. They do something more important: they challenge Jack’s picture of who Peter is.

The man Jack has labeled an enemy behaves like a neighbor.

Barnabas: Loving Someone Who Hates Him

Redeeming Rhubarb takes this idea even further.

Rhubarb doesn’t simply dislike Barnabas personally. He hates rats. His prejudice tells him what Barnabas must be before he ever gets to know him.

Barnabas has every reason to dislike Rhubarb in return.

But when Rhubarb’s daughter, Strawberry, falls into a storm drain and is in danger, Barnabas has a choice. He can allow Rhubarb’s hatred to determine how he responds, or he can do what is right regardless of how Rhubarb feels about him.

Barnabas chooses to help.

He risks his own life to save the daughter of a mouse who considers him an enemy.

And that creates a problem for Rhubarb.

If rats are terrible simply because they are rats, what does Rhubarb do with a rat who risks his life to save his daughter?

Barnabas’s actions throughout the book confront Rhubarb’s prejudice in a way that an argument probably never could.

He doesn’t preach. He doesn’t confront. He doesn’t argue. He helps.

And he keeps helping.

When Our Enemy Doesn’t Act Like an Enemy

That’s one reason stories like these can lead to valuable conversations with our children.

Children—and adults—can easily divide people into categories: good people and bad people, friends and enemies, people like us and people unlike us. And this temptation isn’t limited to one side of a conflict. Once we see someone as an enemy, it becomes easier to judge everything that person does through that label.

Reading With Your Kids put it this way in its review of Redeeming Rhubarb:

“Rather than presenting prejudice as something only ‘bad people’ possess, Bob Richley portrays it as something that often grows from fear, pain, grief, and unresolved wounds.”

That distinction is important. Understanding why someone has developed prejudice doesn’t mean excusing it.

Sometimes moral distinctions are necessary. People really do make harmful choices, and loving someone doesn’t mean pretending that harmful behavior is acceptable. Strawberry certainly doesn’t accept her father’s beliefs. She questions him. She confronts him. She speaks truth to him.

Loving someone doesn’t require us to pretend that what they are doing is right.

But labels can also prevent us from seeing the person behind them.

Jack sees the oilman.

Rhubarb sees a rat.

Neither label tells the whole story.

And perhaps that gives us another way to think about Jesus’ command to love our enemies. Loving an enemy doesn’t necessarily mean agreeing with that person, trusting that person, or pretending that our differences don’t matter.

It means refusing to let hatred decide how we will act.

Peter could help.

Barnabas could help.

So they did.

Most of us will never need to send snowplows into a blizzard or rescue a mouse from danger. Our opportunities will probably be much smaller: showing kindness to someone who has been unkind, helping someone we don’t particularly like, refusing to join in when others ridicule someone, forgiving an offense, or simply taking the time to discover whether the person we’ve labeled an enemy really deserves that label.

Sometimes loving our enemies begins with something very simple:

Choosing to do good anyway.

Extracting Biblical Truths from Children’s Literature

Posted on by Bob Richley
Mother and young boy reading a children's Bible book together at a wooden table

Intro

  • While reading Heidi with my wife, I was struck by the Biblical Lessons. I noticed that other classics such as The Swiss Family Robinson, The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, and To Kill a Mockingbird were filled with obvious Christian themes.
  • Stories — even secular ones — often carry echoes of biblical truth, and parents can use them as a bridge into deeper spiritual conversation. It’s as if the DNA for all great stories is in biblical truths of sacrifice, love, and redemption.
  • C.S. Lewis himself was converted when he noticed the most beloved Myths and Fables had Christian themes. C.S. Lewis famously concluded that Christianity was the ultimate “true myth”. He didn’t just notice Christian themes in favorite fables; he realized that Christ was the historical fulfillment of the deep, recurring themes and longings found in all ancient myths and stories.

Why Stories Are a Natural Bridge to Scripture

  • Jesus taught in parables — stories were his primary teaching method.
    • Jesus taught in parables to hide the meaning from those who would not want to understand
    • He explained it privately to his disciples.
    • He used common experiences understood in that culture, such as farming, shepherding, and traveling on foot over dangerous roads.
  • Kids grasp abstract truths (grace, sacrifice, courage) more easily through narrative than direct teaching.
    • Princeton researchers found that the brains of storytellers and listeners mirror each other, making an emotion or concept feel deeply personal.
  • Stories translate vague theories into tangible scenarios that are relatable to children. For example, rather than explaining how we should love our enemies, a narrative about a rat who loves a mouse who hates him brings that idea to life.

How to “Extract” a Bible Lesson from Any Story
A repeatable method, parallel to your “Questions You Can Ask” section:

  • Identify the character’s choice — what did they do, and why?
  • Ask what the story values (courage, sacrifice, forgiveness, honesty)
  • Find the Scripture or Biblical truth that echoes it
    • You can find an example here.
  • Ask your child to connect the dots themselves before you say it.

Examples From Children’s Literature I’ve Read

  • Charlotte’s Web
    • Charlotte shows sacrificial love.
      • Charlotte works hard to save Wilbur’s life.
      • Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. John 15:13
  • A Little Princess
    • Sara Crewe masters dignity under pressure and kindness as a choice by treating her nobility of spirit as an inner reality rather than an external circumstance. When stripped of her wealth and abused, she proves that true grace comes from choosing compassion over cruelty, even when no one is watching.
    • This serves as an example of what Paul wrote in Philippians 2:5-8.
  • The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
    • Aslan shows substitutionary redemption by giving his life for Edmund, who betrayed his family. This parallels Jesus’ sacrifice for our redemption.
    • The family and Aslan show Edmund unconditional forgiveness.
  • Heidi
    • The obvious one was the story of the Prodigal Son that Heidi read to Grandfather and eventually led to his redemption.
    • Heidi learns contentment even when she is taken from her Grandfather’s home, which is a good example of applying Paul’s lesson in Philippians 4:11-13
    • When Heidi is deeply homesick in Frankfurt, the grandmother teaches her to cry out directly to God when she has a sorrow she cannot share with anyone else. This points directly to the biblical instruction in Philippians 4:6 to bring all requests to God.
    • Here’s a nice outline of other hidden Themes in Heidi
  • Redeeming Rhubarb
    • Based on Matthew 5:44, where Jesus tells us to love our enemies.
    • Rhubarb, the mouse hates Barnabas, the rat, simply because Rhubarb hates rats. Barnabas shows nothing but kindness to Rhubarb and his family, even risking his own life.
  • You can find gurther examples in this blog.

A Caution: Not Forcing It

  • A Caution: Not Forcing It
    • Not every lesson in a children’s book lines up with Scripture. Some come close but teach something subtly different — and that gap is actually a gift, not a problem, if we know how to use it. Some teach lessons contrary to Scripture, and I want my kids to know that. What I dislike about Frances Hodgson Burnett’s books is that she often refers to “magic” rather than the Holy Spirit of God. Chronicles of Narnia also uses “deep magic,” but it is an allegory where things like “magic” actually represent something Biblical. Even Christian books can miss the mark. When my kids were little, I read a book that was a gospel presentation, but it missed a key component of the Gospel: repentance. I inserted this word when I read it and pointed out its absence to my kids.
    • Take the “good things happen to good people” theme. It shows up constantly in children’s stories: the kind character gets rewarded, the selfish one learns a lesson and reforms, the story wraps up neatly with virtue paying off. It’s not a bad message — kindness should be encouraged. But it’s not the gospel. It’s karma dressed up as morality. Scripture teaches something harder and better: grace. God’s love and rescue aren’t earned by good behavior. “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). Grace runs in the opposite direction of “be good and good things will happen to you.” It says good things happened to us even though we were nowhere near good.
    • I don’t think we need to avoid these books. I think we need to notice the gap out loud, with our kids.
  • This builds discernment, not just pattern-matching
    • If we only ever point out where a story lines up with the Bible, our kids learn a kind of pattern-matching — “this is like that verse” — without learning to actually think critically about what a story is teaching. But if we also point out where a story almost gets it right but doesn’t, we’re teaching them something more valuable: how to test what they read and watch against Scripture for the rest of their lives, long after they’ve outgrown picture books.
    • This matters more as they get older. Middle schoolers and teens are absorbing messages constantly — from shows, from friends, from social media — that sound wise or moral but quietly reshape what they believe about God, sin, and grace. If they’ve practiced noticing the difference between “earn it” and “grace” in a bedtime story at age seven, they’ll be far better equipped to catch it in a Netflix show at age fifteen.
    • A simple way to raise this with your child: “This story says good things happen to good people. Is that what the Bible says? What does the Bible say happens to us, even when we’re not good?” Let them sit with it. Let them find the tension themselves.
  • Show, don’t tell — even here.
    • This is also a good moment to apply my own criteria for good children’s books: show, don’t tell. I don’t want to lecture my kids on the difference between karma and grace. I want to ask a question and let them work it out, the same way I’d want a well-written book to reveal a moral through the story rather than stating it outright.
    • So instead of saying, “This book is wrong, here’s the real answer,” I’ll ask something like, “Do you think the character earned the ending, or was it a gift?” Then I let the conversation go wherever it goes. Sometimes my daughters land on the answer right away. Sometimes it takes a few more questions. Either way, they get there themselves — and what they discover on their own sticks far longer than what I hand them.

Practical Ways to Do This at Home

Family of four reading books on a couch in a warm living room
  • Reading time discussion questions.
    • What choices did the characters make?
    • What were the consequences of those choices?
    • What is the main moral lesson?
    • Does this line up with scripture?
  • A simple family ritual: “Bible bridge” question after each book/chapter.
    • What Bible Verses would fit for some of the things done or said?
    • What was the main point or outcome?
    • Do choices and lessons line up Biblically?
  • Journaling or discussion notebook idea.
    • Writing it down can force us to think and help us remember
    • It also gives a reference that we can circle back to time and again.

Closing

I’ve been reading to my children since they were babies. I wasn’t also good at pointing out the lessons, but as they grew older, I began to ask questions not only about what we read but also about what we watched.

While I sometimes pointed out the lesson, I found it better to ask open-ended questions and let them figure it out. This gets them thinking rather than me lecturing.

Reading to your children is vitally important, as I point out in this blog. Even more important is to engage them in discussion. I want my kids to think, not just ingest. I encourage you to get your kids to think. Ask questions. Find the answers together.