BOOKS FOR FAMILIES
The Living Tale Series™
By JANE H. SMITH, M.D.
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Slow down, sit down, read a book...together.
“Jane Smith has written one of the best allegories I’ve ever read. As a public school teacher for more than 20 years, I am thrilled to see a young adult book address spiritual issues in such a life-touching way. Her allegory makes things of the spirit come to life. I have loaned several copies to youth in our church and am donating copies to all of our local schools. Buy it, read it, share it, donate it. It’s definitely worth it.”
– K. Johnson, Alabama.
I have authored three books in the Living Tale Series: Henley & the Book of Heroes, Star & the Book of Treasures, and Henley & the Book of Overcomers. There will be six books in all.
I weave my decades of experience helping hurting families and children into my stories, so that my readers experience a fun, hope-filled Christian adventure that will inspire them to believe they are made for more. Elementary to high-school readers love my stories, as well as families who enjoy reading my tales with each other.
Jane H. SMith, M.D.
/ Author, Rancher, Healer
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Sooner Than Later
“I won’t eat them; they’re nasty.” Henley chased his Brussels
sprouts around his plate with his fork, making it look like a
hare-and-hound type of race. While he rested his face on his
arm inches away from the plate so as not to miss the close
finish, he added, “I hate green things.”
“You’re not leaving the table until you do,” Mama said
with a face that Henley knew meant business. He had tried
the “Daddy doesn’t have to eat vegetables in the desert,”
argument too many times, so tonight he tried a different
approach.
He sat up in his chair with such force that his brown
tousled bangs sprang out and settled back even more awry.
He pushed them aside with his hand, trying to make contact
with the eyes in the back of Mama’s head, believing his new
position would save him from Brussels sprouts. “I bet you
Getchu doesn’t have to eat sprouts. He can eat whatever he
wants. He’s my hero!” As he spoke, his last three sprouts
nearly raced off his plate.
Mama stopped rinsing the dish in her hand and turned
to look at her son. “I thought Dad was your hero,” she said,
sounding a bit surprised.
“He was…he is…I mean…Getchu can do whatever he
wants.
Mama seized the moment to talk about heroes. “Getchu
can’t be a hero, honey. He doesn’t have a heart. He’s a robot.”
She hoped her shift in the conversation would not be too
obvious. Henley may look average to everyone else, but Mrs.
Banks knew her son’s quick mind.
“
What do you mean, Mama?” asked Henley a bit
puzzled. He looked at his plate cockeyed, wondering what
heroes, Getchu, and sprouts had to do with one another.
Mama breathed a sigh of relief that her hero hint was
not immediately rejected. “Robots can only do as their
inventor instructs them. They cannot choose to be
courageous or brave; they just do what they’re programmed
to do. A hero needs a heart so he can do extraordinary things.
Remember, dear, every good story needs a hero.”
He didn’t like Mama sneaking in the Book of Heroes
into their conversation and wanted even more to be done
with his sprouts, so he resumed his plea.
“Theorr nosty,” he said as he half chewed, half
swallowed, two sprouts at once. He closed both eyes tightly,
pursed his lips together, and swallowed hard. In a last-ditch
effort to be rid of them, he smashed the last one into his plate
with his fork. He walked to the sink with his best “I’m the son
you love” look on his face. His smile revealed remnants of his
last bite.
“Nice try, Henley.” But this time she was smiling into his
big blue eyes, letting him know the last sprout was the
disposal’s dinner.
Success! He charged out of the kitchen, his red-hooded
sweatshirt flapping. His plate clanked on the edge of the
counter as Mama caught it with her right hand. Relief spread
over her muscles as he left because this dinner ended without
a major fight.
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GOOD STORIES
Henley went to bed troubled by the evening’s events. Getchu
had filled the hole in his heart left by Dad, and now it felt like
Mama was trying to take him away. What’s the big deal
about a heart, anyway? he wondered as sleep took him.
That night Henley had a strange dream. He was in
Getchu’s game, working side by side with him, blasting
enemy robots into spare parts. He sped through the levels.
Five…six…seven…eight. Hours and hours they fought. At
level ten, instead of seeing Gorse, the creator of all evil
robots, he saw a large antique mirror hanging on his
bedroom wall, from ceiling to floor, illuminated by a single
spotlight. The mirror’s wooden frame was gnarled and
knotted, and the glass was darkened silver. It looked similar
to one he had seen hanging in Grandpa’s apartment, only
larger.
Getchu and Henley walked up to see their reflections,
blasters still in hand. Henley was sure he would see a row of
medals plastered across his chest for bravery in battle. He
tilted his head to one side, trying to look like a western
gunslinger and even imagined he had spurs clanging on his
sneakers. A tip of his sweatshirt hood let a grateful imaginary
citizen know he was, “Just doing my duty, ma’am.” But the
mirror held an unexpected revelation.
When they swaggered up, only one reflection looked
back at him. Henley was Getchu! In place of medals gaped a
hole where his heart should be—a deep, dark hole in which
light itself vanished. He instantly dropped his blaster and
covered his chest with both hands as he stepped back in
shock.
“What?” His hands began disintegrating into the hole!
This abyss would destroy him if he did not do something
fast. It took all of his strength to pull his hands out. Once
they were free, he noticed his fingertips were still missing.
Not wanting to go through that again, he shoved his hands
out to his sides like an awkward bird ready for flight; he
needed to keep them as far away from the black hole as
possible. “What’s going on?” he said out loud, hoping
someone would answer; but no one did.
Frantically, he turned around wide-eyed to ask Getchu
for advice. He’ll know what to do; he’ll help me. A quick
survey of his surroundings, however, revealed he was alone.
He stood abandoned in inky blackness—his hero left him.
Desperate thoughts flooded his mind. How do I get out of
here? How do I get home?
The only visible light came from the mirror. Henley
slowly backed toward it, still searching for his hero. “Getchu,
where are you?” Hot tears burned his cheeks; the heaviness of
the darkness and the silence pressed him. His thin shoulders
drooped.
“Remember who you are!” shouted an elderly woman’s
voice in a perfect English accent.
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TUG OF WAR
During the next few days, the tug of war for Henley
intensified. His heart swayed from suspicion to hope many
times a day, and it showed in his actions. Everyone steered
clear of this ship without a rudder unless absolutely
necessary.
One morning Henley discovered Mama in the back
room finding a few moments peace doing laundry.
“Hey, Mom, can I play Getchu?” He noticed George
napping peacefully by the dryer and decided peace was not
an option for the cat, so he covered him in a mound of dirty
clothes. George’s displeasure was delivered with a hiss.
“After your homework is done.” She was putting some
clothes in the dryer but looked up to see if he really heard her.
Henley had a way of weaseling out of homework.
“Yeah, Mama, I got it, after my homework is done.”
“And leave the cat alone; you know he doesn’t like that.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Henley’s whiny tone suddenly changed.
He unsheathed an invisible sword and turned on the
unsuspecting pet. “He’s not a cat. He’s Gorse’s evil dragon
trapped in a cave.” He addressed the cat while heaping more
clothes on him, “There is no escape, traitor! Die!” George,
who had no intention of giving up quietly, clawed his way
out, leaving behind a scratched floor and torn clothing, then
jetted toward the kitchen door.
“Good job, brave knight! Now go finish your
homework.” Mama was frustrated with his antics but hopeful
that his heart was at last coming out of darkness.
“Yes, ma’am.” Henley trudged off, head hung low and
bangs flapping; the hero blew it—again. He wondered if he
could do anything right. If something went wrong in the
Bankses’ home, he was usually to blame, and he was tired of
it.
Doubt saw his chance and jumped in. “You’ll never
change. Who needs to be a hero anyway?”
TESTIMONIALS
Read Reviews by My Readers
“An awakening awaits the readers of The Living Tale. For far too long the things of the Spirit have been taught like the lull of a bedtime story. After reading The Living Tale, I no longer need to ask how to fan the flame within. This is a must read for families. This tale brings the reality of the supernatural to life.”
“I was excited to a read a book written by a fellow home schooling mom! Her book blew me away. I read it as a read aloud, with my kids begging for one more chapter every time! My son was constantly comparing his heart struggles with Henley’s and realizing that he too can be a hero. What an amazing revelation for an 11 year old boy! Please read this book to your children!”
“Henley is every boy with a hurt, an attitude, and an opportunity to enter into a great adventure that leads to the healing of his heart. Jane Smith has written a winner about the ability of every family to love and support a hurting child, and the presence of a God who knows just how to reach each and every one of us with his love. I hope every parent reads this book out loud to his or her children.”
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