Old-Souled Stories

My oldest kid is sixteen now. That doesn’t seem possible, but reality keeps impressing upon me that it is true. She is a voracious reader, an introspective, creative, and wonderful young woman. Frequent visits to our local library result in large piles of the next round of stories she is going to dive into, an eclectic mix of genres, as she seeks out prose and cadence that will pluck at her mind and heart in ways that feel real, true, and fantastical all at once. I can watch her mind as she reads, as she searches in these books for something she first fell in love with many years ago.

In her younger years, we read aloud together. It was a family affair, before bed, every night, opening a book together, and I would put on the voices and do my best to invite both of the kids into the realm created by our favorite authors. Around the dinner table, or on car rides, we would talk about the stories, discuss theories of what was going to happen next, which characters were the heroes, which were the villains. We spent hours deep in the lands of Narnia, Aerwiar, or the warrens of Natalia, and so many others.

So now, as she searches, I know she is looking for that same DNA, that same thrum in the soul. I know this because, without fail, when the library books are finished, and there is still time before the next trip, those same familiar worlds are exactly where she escapes back into. The books did not stay in her childhood. They remain as worn blankets and cozy snuggles. Copies of her favorites have well-worn covers, passages that automatically open.

Not every one of our beloved childhood books survives into adulthood. There is nothing wrong with that either. They serve their exact purpose in that exact season of life. Others survive for completely different reasons. My son and I still read and laugh together over Garfield books I have had since I was a kid, and though that cat has a lot of wisdom, it is not particularly poignant in the development of a worldview that sets its sights on eternity. But those books that do grow alongside us, they may have hooked us with adventure, or with bunnies, but they keep us with the story of lasting faithfulness. Not because the stories change, but because we do.

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

Even now, these books bring to her a courage that was modeled with kindness and grace, a language of loyalty and sacrifice that landed in a vocabulary that she understood; they did not shy away from the reality of the darkness we face. The stories that burrowed deep into her heart told the truth, that the darkness exists, it is real, but it is not the end of the story. They taught her about mercy, treachery, beauty, home, exile, and hope.

They became structures within the foundation we sought to provide for our kids. We tried to teach them that as they continue to grow older, there is no imperative to exchange wonder for realism, but rather that in keeping that sense of wonder, we can maintain pathways through the darkness of the world and the sorrows of the brokenness.

There is much I worry about for my kids as they become closer and closer to adults, and the protective magic of home becomes thinner as they prepare to enter the world. I imagine the same is true for many parents, and I suspect it should be true for many more. But one of the best things we did as parents is to teach them about the resonance of truth, hope, and peace that can be found in great stories.

I watch my daughter live this out even now, still searching library shelves for that same resonance, still returning to the same worn covers when nothing new quite satisfies. The great stories of our world take many different forms, can be found in any genre, any age-grouped shelving of the world’s bookstores, and can be from many surprising sources. The search for the resonant flourish that sings in the soul of those who have been trained to seek it out is a lifelong pursuit of goodness. To borrow from CH Spurgeon: “Read the books, by all means, but especially the parchments. Search human literature, if you will, but especially stand fast by that Book which is infallible, the revelation of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.”

Or, to simplify it to the oft-attributed version: “Visit many good books, but live in the Bible.”

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Scott Bradford

Scott Bradford is a Registered Nurse and hospital quality and operations leader in the Chicagoland area, and a fiction writer with several projects in progress, including a middle-grade adventure series. His first novel, Bluff of Bones, is an Appalachian Noir Thriller, set to be released by Three Dragons Press later this year. He lives with his wife, kids, and dog, who — much like the stories in this piece — has become a permanent fixture in the family's imagination.

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• Old-Souled Stories - July 27, 2026