There are girls who speak quietly and girls who are loud, and
then there are girls like Josephine Elisabeth Stirling, who let books do most
of the talking. In the small village of Ridgeport, where days passed slowly and
there were few tales to be told beyond the edges of a page, Jo (as everyone
called her) believed in something extraordinary. She found it in the curl of an
old poem, the whisper of a library shelf, and in words that lingered between
the pages of her favourite book.
It was bound in soft, worn leather and smelled of old paper
and adventure. It had no title, no illustrations and no author. She had
discovered it while hiding in the attic of a historic inn they had visited when
she was just six years of age, tucked away in an old trunk under a forgotten
quilt. She smiled with wonder, turned the first page and began to read.
Although the words were faded, they seemed to glow for her - as if someone had
written them in a light that only she could see. She started calling the book Lantern.
It just felt right, like it lit something inside her every time she cracked the
spine and turned the tattered pages. She read it over and over and couldn’t
bear to leave it behind. When it was time to pack up and head for home, she
tucked her secret treasure into her backpack without saying a word.
From that day forward, Jo read everywhere. While other kids
played games like
Tag or Red Rover, she curled up under blankets with a book in
her lap, whispering the words under her breath as she read. Her favourite
moments were the quiet ones; filled with silent sentences that had so much to
say. She read by the woodstove when it snowed, in fields as the daisies
bloomed, on the beach with the sand between her toes, and under the giant elm
tree at the park, as the leaves gently fell around her. Sometimes at night, she
read undercover with a flashlight or perched on the roof while the stars shone
overhead. And somehow, by loving stories and sharing them, she made others want
to read and share too.
Jo kept Lantern to herself for as long as she could. Until one
Summer Sunday when everything changed. Jo was walking in the park when she saw
a young boy she recognized, sitting alone under the elm tree, his hoodie pulled
over his face. Jo wondered if he might be crying. She didn’t say anything but
sat on the opposite side of the large trunk until she eventually poked her head
around, eyes sparkling, and asked “Wanna hear a story?”
The boy glanced up and shrugged like he didn’t care either
way, but she could tell he was curious. With anticipation, she opened Lantern and
read him a story about a similar boy who always walked around with his head
down and his hands in his pockets. One day, while hiding from a thunderstorm, a
little cloud floated down and pressed against the window, as if looking at him.
The boy peeked outside when the rain unexpectantly stopped and ran all the way
home. When he got there, the cloud was nowhere in sight. Later that night, he
thought he saw a shadow cross his window. He crept closer and opened it just a
crack – the cloud slipped in and cuddled beside him, like a soft kitten. From
that day on it followed him everywhere. If the boy felt nervous, the cloud would
glow and give him courage. When others didn’t include him, the cloud wrapped
him in warmth and made him feel loved. Noone noticed, until one day he spotted
an older girl curiously studying him. She smiled knowingly “Is that your
cloud?”
The boy blinked in disbelief. “You can see it?”
“I can feel it,” she said. “I used to have one too!”
The boy looked up, really looked up – for the first time in a
long time.
“Did it leave you?” he asked sadly.
“No”, she said laughing. “It became something else…like a soft
hum in my heart – it’s part of me now”.
He didn’t know exactly what she meant. Not yet. But he smiled
slowly – a small, secret sort of smile. And the cloud shone overhead.
When Jo finished, the boy wiped his nose on his sleeve and
thanked her, with a hesitant grin.
The next day, she was sitting under the elm when he arrived.
They sat in silence for awhile, until he quietly asked for another story…and
another and another.
Word spread quickly. Children seemed to appear out of nowhere;
first two, then five, then ten. Bringing stools and blankets, eyes wide with
expectation. Parents, who were at first amused, soon started listening in. Jo
didn’t just read; she lived her stories, creating magic with her words. Every
Sunday afternoon, they gathered under the big tree, passing around snacks and
sitting cross-legged as she read. Sometimes from Lantern, sometimes from other
books she’d brought from home. And eventually, something even more amazing
happened, others started telling stories as well.
Jo noticed that not every kid loved reading though. Some said
it was boring, or too hard or that they didn’t have books at home.
One boy smirked, “Books are for people who have nothing better
to do”.
Jo laughed but she didn’t judge them. Instead, she made it her
mission to change their minds. She brought comics and short books for those who
bored easily. She created stories with blank spaces so they could fill in
missing parts. She found books related to their hobbies – sports, animals,
dolls and outer space. She made it fun.
Sometimes, even puppets would make an appearance. And little by little,
the light spread until she could no longer carry all of the books she wanted to
bring each week.
Then, Jo had another idea. She took an old wooden crate,
filled it with books, and painted a sign:
Lantern Library – Take a book. Leave a book. Share the light!
Almost immediately, people started using it. Mothers with
strollers left little board books behind. Kids dropped off picture books as
they moved on to paperbacks. Teenagers traded romance and fantasy novels, and
adults shared poetry, history and plays. The light was growing.
Jo grew too and eventually decided to leave Ridgeport. As much
as she loved it there, she knew stories needed to travel, and were never meant
to stay in one place. So, one Spring day she filled her backpack with clothes,
food, and of course, Lantern.
Everywhere she went, she told stories, listened to others, and
left behind little libraries made of crates and donated books. She shared her
love for reading at parks, under bridges, in fields and along shores. She
inspired others to read and write poetry, songs and stories. Some even penned
books of their own.
She traveled from place to place, lighting hearts like candles
along the way.
Years passed and Jo never stopped reading, listening or
sharing. Her hair turned a shimmery silver, her voice softened, and her steps
slowed. But her eyes never dimmed. As the Autumn leaves changed, she returned
to her beloved Ridgeport where the giant elm still stood, and the stories had
continued without her. There, children whose parents she’d once read to now sat
with books in their laps, reading to others. Jo smiled with wonder.
She spent her remaining years surrounded by stories, laughter,
and love. She was interviewed, quoted and revered far and wide. But her
favorite moments were still the quiet ones; when a child found their first
favorite book, or a timid teen stood up to read a poem they’d written and as
she read letters from strangers, who thanked her for helping them feel heard,
accepted and a little less alone.
One winter night, while the stars shone overhead, Jo
peacefully passed in her sleep, Lantern resting on her chest. As the sun rose,
bells chimed in sorrow but also in celebration. Because Jo wasn’t really gone.
She lived on in every story shared and in the heart of every child who believed
in something extraordinary.
Years later, Jo was honoured with an award for Literary
Leadership, in recognition of the significant impact she had made and for
inspiring a love of reading in others. After the ceremony, a young girl
wandered over to the old elm tree, sat cross-legged and opened a book she’d
found in the little library. It had no title, no illustrations and no author.
Tucked inside the cover was a handwritten note that read “If you are reading
this, you now carry the light.
Tell your stories to the world.”
~ Josephine Elisabeth Stirling
And the girl smiled with wonder, turned the first page, and
began to read.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I am a Valley Girl from Nova Scotia, happily married for over 33 years and the proud Mom of two amazing women.
Having bought, sold and renovated several homes and rental properties over the years, a career in Real Estate seemed evident. I love helping clients and the independence of running my own business. When not working, I enjoy lake life with family and friends and especially love my newest role as Mema to Peyton (2 ½) and Ries (1).
Travel is a passion of ours, and most trips revolve around live music. I also love cooking, movies, pop culture and of course, reading. I serve as Co-Chair on the Board of Directors for Chrysalis House, our local Women and Children’s Shelter and am involved with several community fundraising events throughout the year.
I was inspired to write my short story after I saw the contest posted on Facebook; it was meant to be a personal dedication to my dear friend, Julia. I decided to submit it to support the initiative and make a donation to the MS Society, which was so important to her. She was a great light in this world who shone brightly on us all!
