Tag: Preschool (page 16 of 30)

First Bible Basics

First Bible Basics is a board book written on two levels: on the ground level, it’s a counting primer based around core doctrines of the Christian faith—One God, Two natures of Jesus, Three persons of the Trinity, and so on.

First Bible Basics, by Danielle Hitchen (review) | Little Book, Big Story

But on the second story, it’s a theological primer for young readers, as Danielle Hitchen uses quotes from Scripture, hymns, old writings, or her own simple explanations to expand upon these core doctrines of the Christian faith.

Josie, at one, stays on the ground floor. We count commandments and beatitudes together, close the book, and go to bed. But four-year-old Phoebe rides up to the second floor, where we discuss those things a little more deeply. We read the verses and quotes and study the illustrations and sing whatever songs we know that go with them (after years of listening to Slugs & Bugs on repeat, this is a reflex. I can’t read “Matthew, Mark, Luke, John . . . ” without bursting into song).

First Bible Basics, by Danielle Hitchen (review) | Little Book, Big Story

Jessica Blanchard’s illustrations help articulate these truths for children (and, if we’re honest, adults). She represents broad, abstract ideas in a way that familiarizes readers with some of the wonders of our faith.

First Bible Basics would be a beautiful gift for new parents (or for new believers with a sense of humor). Hitchen and Blanchard have released a second book in the “Baby Believer” series, Psalms of Praise, but we don’t have it yet. It’s only a matter of time before I find an excuse to add it to our collection of board book theology.

First Bible Basics, by Danielle Hitchen (review) | Little Book, Big Story

First Bible Basics: A Counting Primer
Danielle Hitchen; Jessica Blanchard (2017)

All Things Bright & Beautiful

These days are dreary.

Candles take the edge off the darkness, but just barely. Twinkle lights stuffed into jam jars help, but only a little. We wake in darkness, live in twilight, and part with the sun around 3:30, when it is so low in the sky that it scarcely trickles into our living room.

All Things Bright and Beautiful, by Cecil Frances Alexander & Bruce Whatley (review) | Little Book, Big Story

The days are getting longer, but slowly. While we wait, we listen to Dave Brubeck and Billie Holiday. We drink pot after pot of tea and dance to The Black Keys. We knit and eat and jump on the counch, and we nap (a lot). We read books about spring and light and hope and remind one another that it’s coming—spring is coming! The days won’t always be this dark.

This book is one of my favorites right now, because it is all of those things: a beautifully illustrated depiction of hope and light, set in the outdoors at a time when people can go outside in short sleeves and smell the budding trees. It’s coming.

All Things Bright and Beautiful, by Cecil Frances Alexander & Bruce Whatley (review) | Little Book, Big Story

I reviewed another book on this hymn years ago, and I do still love that one. But, if I had to play favorites, I think I’d choose this one: Bruce Whatley illustrates one small girl wandering about her own home, exploring the things God has made. Ashley Bryan’s book has more of a “whole world” perspective that is wonderful, too, but I like the coziness of seeing one square of the world’s beauty through one child’s eyes. As this girl, accompanied by her dog, visits favorite spots around her home, we get to delight in her childlike wonder over just what the Lord has made and what that creation means to her.

All Things Bright and Beautiful, by Cecil Frances Alexander & Bruce Whatley (review) | Little Book, Big Story

All Things Bright and Beautiful stirs us to worship. It reminds us that the Lord God made all things and he made them well—even winter in the Pacific Northwest, where the sun just tips its hat at us in passing. Even that is good. Even that is his.


All Things Bright and Beautiful
Cecil Frances Alexander; Bruce Whatley (2001)

Little One, We Knew You’d Come

We bought this book years ago, when Lydia was in the tornado stage—flinging books off the shelves at random, emptying baskets of toys on the floor—and The Jesus Storybook Bible was not an old friend, broken in by years, but a new acquaintance we couldn’t get enough of. I ordered Little One, We Knew You’d Come because it, too, was by Sally Lloyd-Jones.

Little One, We Knew You'd Come, by Sally Lloyd-Jones (review) | Little Book, Big Story

But (I’m embarrassed to admit this) I didn’t immediately love it.

The illustrations are of a style that, though beautiful, didn’t appeal to me at first. And the text, though beautifully written, never mentioned Jesus’ name. I remember thinking, Wait. This could be about any longed-for baby. It doesn’t have to be about the coming of Christ. I had that uncomfortable sense that I was missing something.

Little One, We Knew You'd Come, by Sally Lloyd-Jones (review) | Little Book, Big Story

Years passed and three more of our babies reached the book-flinging stage (Josie is firmly entrenched in it now). We have read this book to every child every year, and it has borne those repeated readings with grace. The gentle and quiet illustrations have grown on me; Lloyd-Jones’ poetic words have, too. And I have grown to love the way it doesn’t mention Jesus’ name, because while so many Christmas books illustrate his coming through the eyes of creation awaiting a Savior or Israel waiting on a king, this one lets us see his coming through the eyes of Mary and Joseph, who await not just God’s Son, but their son. He is their Redeemer, and he is the baby they have waited nine months to meet.

Little One, We Knew You'd Come, by Sally Lloyd-Jones (review) | Little Book, Big Story

I get it now. And it is lovely.

Also

Merry Christmas! I am so thankful for you all and pray that this season is filled with that deep-seated wonder—the one that comes not from the “childhood magic” of Santa, but from the true magic of a God who took on humble, helpless infancy for our sake. He is the One who took the shadow of the Law and gave it substance, the One who ripped the curtain so that God might, when all is ready, dwell among us. May the joy of this carry you through many long evenings in the kitchen, many unanticipated needs, and many overtired toddler meltdowns. May he sustain you and give you strength, and may he give you peace.


Little One, We Knew You’d Come
Sally Lloyd-Jones; Jackie Morris (2006)

God’s Very Good Idea

Timely.

That word, like the phrase tour de force, adorns books jackets with a fearsome regularity. Critics toss it at this novel or that anthology with such zeal that any potency it once had has been diluted by overuse.

But I will still use it here.

God's Very Good Idea, by Trillia Newbell (review) | Little Book, Big Story

Because God’s Very Good Idea is a timely book; it is the right book written at the right time. When questions of race and immigration, refugees and citizenship are on the tip of our collective tongue, when they burst forth at the dinner table, on the radio, and in picture books, it is good to see the subject addressed by a Christian author who invites us to view it through the lens of Scripture.

Many books now work to promote equality, inclusion, and diversity, but few of them take the conversation back far enough to remind us that those ideas originate with the gospel, with the Son of God who died for the sake of people from all nations, to unite us in one body:

“For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:27-28).

Trillia Newbell takes the story back even further, opening the book with the beautiful sentence:

God's Very Good Idea, by Trillia Newbell (review) | Little Book, Big Story

“In the beginning—in fact, before the beginning—God had a very good idea.”

The book itself is beautifully written—Newbell explains some big and heartbreaking concepts in language that is direct but never insultingly simple—and illustrated with all the delight I’ve learned to expect from Catalina Echeverri.

God's Very Good Idea, by Trillia Newbell (review) | Little Book, Big Story
God's Very Good Idea, by Trillia Newbell (review) | Little Book, Big Story

Newbell takes this concept of “God’s very good idea” beyond skin color in a beautiful way: rather than focusing solely on outward appearance, she introduces our varying gifts, interests, and abilities as other ways God put his “good idea” into action. Meanwhile, Echeverri displays, through her joyful, vibrant illustrations, a beautiful picture of people of all ages, abilities, and backgrounds laughing, praying, feasting together, and serving and comforting one another. It is a gorgeous book, both in its message and in the hope the illustrations convey.

God's Very Good Idea, by Trillia Newbell (review) | Little Book, Big Story

I loved reading a book that says so perfectly what so many books point toward but fall short of saying: we should love one another, even (or especially) those who differ from us, not because it is The Right Thing to Do or because we wouldn’t like being excluded because we were different, but because it was God’s idea to create such a wide array of people in the first place, and he made all of them made in his image. His idea was a very good one that is heading toward a definite, awesome conclusion:

This is God’s very good idea: lots of different people enjoying loving him and loving each other.

God MADE it.
People RUINED it.
He RESCUED it.
He will FINISH it.

God's Very Good Idea, by Trillia Newbell (review) | Little Book, Big Story

God’s Very Good Idea
Trillia Newbell, Catalina Echeverri (2017)


Teeny tiny disclosure: I did receive a copy of this for review, but I was not obligated to review this book or compensated for my review in any way. I share this book with you because I love it, not because I was paid to do so.

Little Francis Falls Asleep (Giveaway!)

When I, as a child, couldn’t sleep, my dad told me stories about his days as a pirate.

When my girls can’t sleep, we talk about treehouses.

When I can’t sleep now, I count sheep—sheep jumping on trampolines. (That image may not whisk me off to dreamland, but at least it makes me laugh.)

But when Francis can’t sleep, he walks the woods near his house, looking for answers.

Little Francis Falls Asleep, by Pip Craighead | Little Book, Big Story

What begins as a bedtime story, illustrated simply but strikingly, presses into a deeper truth about rest, one that extends beyond bedtime and into our very hearts. Francis’ question, Where can I find rest?, becomes a bigger question: Where do we find rest? The answer lies not in counting sheep or lying down just so, but in the way we entrust ourselves to the God of the Universe. This is a story about sleep, and it isn’t.

Little Francis Falls Asleep, by Pip Craighead | Little Book, Big Story

Like Golly’s Folly (also published by Patrol Books), Little Francis Falls Asleep is a beautiful book that speaks emphatically to our particular time. It is a timeless truth, to be sure, but it is one we need reminding of now, when many of us bring the world’s noise into bed with us—scrolling through social media after we turn off the light—and wonder why we are restless. Yet it doesn’t aim so far over the child’s head that Francis’s story fails to connect with them. We have all lain awake in bed, thirsty and unsettled. And we can all find rest in the stars’ Maker, the one who steadies our thoughts and orders our days.

Little Francis Falls Asleep, by Pip Craighead | Little Book, Big Story

Now, About That Giveaway:

Patrol Books is giving away a copy of Little Francis Falls Asleep to one of you! Huzzah! To enter the giveaway, fill in as many options as you like in the widget below. The giveaway closes at 11:59 pm on Monday, October 23. After that, a winner will be randomly selected and notified by email. Best of luck to you all!


Little Francis Falls Asleep
Pip Craighead (2017)


Disclosure: I did receive a copy of this for review, but I was not obligated to review this book or compensated for my review in any way. I share this book with you because I love it, not because I was paid to do so.