Long-time readers who have nothing better to do than remember my kid-lit philosophy know that I assiduously avoid books that are supposed to be helpful. These books are generally very easy to avoid because their subtitle always begins with “A Story About…” …sharing. ….belonging….being different….tolerance…puppymills..
What have you.
Well, I am mortified to tell you that my very favorite book out of this week’s library stash has a

….lesson.

Ahem. Yes it does.
But before we get to that, a couple of Christmas books I rather liked.
A Small Miracle by Peter Collington is a wordless picture book. Sometimes I’m not in the mood for these – just give me the words I can read without thinking and then hit the sack myself – but quite a bit of the time, I am these days, mostly because Joseph, in particular, really enjoys discovering the shape of the story himself through the illustrations.
This one is about an old, impoverished woman who lives in some sort of old caravan car. She has nothing to eat, no money, so she sets out with her accordian to play in the streets of the town. Not very successful, she pawns the instrument, and then is promptly robbed of the money. She encounters the thief once more, dashing out of the church with the poor box in hand. She wrestles the poor box from him and returns it to its proper place, in the church, next to the now-wrecked nativity scene.

What happens next?
Well, you’ll have to just see for yourself.
Let’s just say, we were particulary charmed by Joseph, who lived out his vocation quite appropriately.
It’s different and unusual and gives an opportunity (?) to discuss the question, “Could that happen in real life?”
Well, it depends on what you mean by….
John Speirs specializes in evoking the Old Masters. Not all of them, but in particular, 16th and 17th century northern European Old Masters. His The Donkey and the Golden Light is marvelous, and I recently discovered another book of his, The Little Boy’s Christmas Gift.
In it, a boy who is the son of the gardener in the compound where three fellows named Caspar, Melchior and Balthazar reside and work, overhears the exciting news of a king heralded by a star and determines to follow, even in secret, the journey to honor the new king.
Along the way, the three magi encounter all sorts of people: nomads, beekeepers, musicians, farmers, all of whom hear of the journey and decide to follow along, bearing their own gifts.
And, we are reminded on each sumptuous page, no one notices the small boy in the back bearing his own brown sack.
Of course, the book is of the genre, “The smallest brings an important, beautiful gift to the Christ child,” but I am firmly convinced that we can never have too many of those because that is precisely the point.
It’s gorgeous and rich, with pictures that offer much to look at and think about.
Although I will say that the budding Biblical scholar took care to note that actually, the shepherds and the magi did not, in fact, arrive at the same time since the magi got there, “What was it? On January 8?”
Well, sort of.
Now.
I pulled this next book off the “new arrivals” shelf at the library, glanced at it, and tossed it in the pile.
Then that night, we read it, and I found myself just really loving it, partly because it resonates with one of the great themes of my life, and partly because it does it so well, so winningly, and with a light hand.
The theme is: “Be kind, for everyone is fighting a great battle.”
I don’t always live up to that, of course, but it expresses a truth which I think is fundamental: to be a Christian is to see with the eyes of Christ, and Christ loves everyone, and Christ understands the heart of every person.  God doesn’t love me more than anyone else (nor does he love me less, but that’s another issue.)
Or, in other words…you just never know what’s going on.
The behavior we are tempted to snipe at in another person, may actually have been a minor triumph, if we only knew what that person was going through on that particular day.
Someone’s present life may seem ripe fodder for condemnation, but good Lord, do you even know what muck the present has emerged from?
Probably not.
The Little Bit Scary People takes a child’s fears of people who are, well, frightening to them, and invites the child to see these Little bit Scary People in a different context:
The impatient lunch lady, the demanding bus driver, the intimidating principal, the odd girl in science class…all of them. Yes, they make me tremble a bit, but do you know what? Maybe when they get home, they play with their children or read cowboy stories or go jogging in the park..
…and maybe that teen-aged girl in a leather coat kicks the trash can just to hear the racket it makes..well, before dinner every day she plays football with her little brothers and lets them win every time...I know…because she’s my sister…
This is a wonderful book – it touches something real in a child, acknowledges it,  and invites that child to expand her vision and heart just a little bit in a totally non-sentimental way.
I enthuse for this book.  Author Emily Jenkins and illustrator Alexandra Boiger have done something wonderful – and not a bit scary – here.