Dr. R.C. Sproul weaves an allegorical tale that captures the essence of the biblical story of redemption in a manner that will fascinate and delight children. A race of tiny beings known as lightlings are a picture of humanity as they pass through all the stages of the biblical drama—creation, fall, and redemption. In the end, children will understand why some people fear light more than darkness, but why they need never fear darkness again.

Those who have made the decision to homeschool their children have done so out of great love for them and a desire to provide them an excellent education in the context of a warm, enriching home. Yet so many parents (mainly mothers) who have taken up this challenge find the enterprise often full of stress, worry, and anxiety.

Hardly a day passes without Trille and Lena inventing some kind of adventure that often ends in trouble. Whether it's coaxing a cow onto a boat or tobogganing down the steepest and iciest hill with a chicken, there is always a thrill - and sometimes an injury - to be had. Trille loves to share everything with Lena, even Auntie Granny's waffles, which make everything just perfect. But when Lena has to move away, and Auntie Granny leaves the world, it sometimes seems nothing will ever be right again.

Terpsichore can't wait to follow in Laura Ingalls Wilder's footsteps...now she just has to convince her mom. It's 1934, and times are tough for their family. To make a fresh start, Terpsichore’s father signs up for President Roosevelt's Palmer Colony project, uprooting them from Wisconsin to become pioneers in Alaska. Their new home is a bit of a shock - it's a town still under construction in the middle of the wilderness, where the residents live in tents and share a community outhouse. But Terpsichore’s not about to let first impressions get in the way of this grand adventure.

Millions of people climb the grand marble staircase to visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art every year. But only a select few have unrestricted access to every nook and cranny. They’re the guards who roam unobtrusively in dark blue suits, keeping a watchful eye on the two million square foot treasure house. Caught up in his glamourous fledgling career at The New Yorker, Patrick Bringley never thought that he’d be one of them.