An old story writ new
Back in November 2011, we started a new event here at the church where I work. We called it the “teatime special” and it is designed for families with children aged 10 and under. Each time families arrive at 3.30pm, and children are provided with a variety of stimulating craft activities for about 45 minutes. We then have some songs, a story and a prayer before the children have their tea together. The event has been running for almost three years now, and on almost every occasion I have written a fresh story for the event. In fact, it was the first ever Teatime Special which gave rise to the Littlest Star and his remarkable journey. Yesterday, I decided to retell the story of the feeding of the 5000.I reproduce it here in case anybody would like to use it. Having said that, if anybody wants to illustrate it…
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With a great big yawn and a stretch Ben opened his eyes to see the golden sun streaming in through the window. Ben loved the summertime. Summer meant long days with no school and lots of time to play. When he went into the kitchen, the day got even better. There on the table was a packed lunch for him – five little pieces of bread and two pieces of Uncle John’s best smoked fish. He knew just what that meant. “There’s no jobs today” his mom would say, “you can run along and play all day if you want to. Just come home when the sun turns orange and the sky goes purple”. Sure enough, that is just what she said, and as soon as he was ready Ben tucked his lunch under his arm and ran outside in the hot sun.
He started off with his favorite place – the hill behind the house. For a long time he lay there amongst the corn stalks looking up at the birds in the blue blue sky. As each bird ducked and dived he wondered what it would be like to fly – and stretched his arms right out to the fingertips as he ran down the hill to try it out!
After that he went down to the shore of the Lake to see if he could see Uncle John and his friends out in their fishing boats catching some yummy fish. There were no boats to be seen though – even when he cupped his hands round his eyes and stared as hard as he could.
Turning away from the lake he noticed a funny thing – a great big crowd at the bottom of the hill. Now, a boy loves a crowd because it means something is happening. It might have been a fight, a man doing tricks, or maybe somebody selling something. As fast as he could, he ran to the bottom of the hill, and then ducked and wove and pushed his way through the forest of legs to the very front of the crowd.
There were no tricks, and definitely no fight – just a man telling stories. They were the best stories ever, though – and the whole crowd listened and listened and listened. There were all sorts there – old grandmas with gray hair, burly fishermen with big hairy arms, even one or tow soldiers at the edge of the crowd. As time went on the sun climbed higher and higher into the sky and it was nearly lunchtime – but nobody seemed to mind. The man telling his stories stopped for a few minutes – and because Ben was squeezed in right at the very front he could hear what they were saying. “Wherever will we find any lunch for all these people”, they said. “There must be thousands of them”.
With a very red face, and a little squeaky voice, Ben stepped forwards and said to the man who had been telling the stories “You can have my lunch, if you like”. The man thanked him kindly, turned his face upwards and thanked God for the little lunch, and then something amazing happened. He and his friends started to share that little picnic amongst the crowd. Breaking off little bits of bread and fish for everyone, it went on and on and on and on. In the end there was so much of it that there were twelve baskets full left over.
The kind man handed four of them to Ben – all stacked up high from his arms to the bottom of his chin. Looking up, he could see that the sun had tuned orange and the shy was turning purple, so he started to pick his way carefully home. He was surprised to see that Uncle John had been in the big crowd too. He took some of the baskets to carry, and the two of them talked about the stories and the amazing picnic lunch all the way home. Just as they got to the gate, Ben asked his Uncle “who was that man, with his lovely stories, who made my lunch go all that way?”
“Him?” said Uncle John. “His name is Jesus, and he’s my friend. Don’t forget this day, little Ben, as long as you live” – and he never never did.
Illustration by Stanley Primary School CLICK for full size