The Quiet Work of Becoming
Hope arrived
“To see another human being, and to be truly seen by them, is perhaps life’s greatest gift.” Paulo Coelho
There is something about the weeks before harvest.
The wheat bows its head, not because it is weak, but because it has reached the point where it can no longer carry the weight of its abundance alone. It has spent months quietly growing, unseen beneath changing skies, until one day the landscape itself begins to change.
I sometimes wonder if people are a little like that.
I thought I was writing children’s books.
Looking back, I don’t think that was ever the whole story.
I think I have been trying to carry a single message through different forms, through nursing, through teaching, through poetry, through stories, through conservation, and eventually through a PhD.
The message has never really changed.
It simply keeps finding new ways to speak.
The Wandering Lamb
When I wrote The Wandering Lamb, I wasn’t trying to create a hero.
The little lamb was simply searching for somewhere to belong.
Like many of us.
Children understand this instinctively. Adults often spend years forgetting it.
The story isn’t really about a lamb.
It is about unconditional love.
It is about the quiet belief that you don’t have to become someone else before you deserve kindness.
You don’t have to earn belonging.
You already belong.
Recently I visited a SEND provision to read the story.
Afterwards, one child looked at me and quietly said,
“You are the first person who sees me other than my mum.”
Another simply said,
“It made me feel valuable.”
Later that day the Assistant Head wrote to me.
“The children felt seen by you, someone who understands their struggles.”
I have replayed those words many times.
Not because they compliment the book.
Because they reveal what stories can sometimes make possible.
They create a space where someone finally feels recognised.
For all the academic language we use around wellbeing, trauma and emotional support, perhaps those children explained it more clearly than any journal article ever could.
To be seen.
To feel valuable.
Perhaps everything else grows from there.
The Butterfly Farmer
People have asked whether The Butterfly Farmer is simply my second children’s book.
In truth, I think it is the next chapter of the same conversation.
If The Wandering Lamb asks,
“Can I belong?”
Then The Butterfly Farmer asks,
“Now that I know I belong... how should I live?”
The answer isn’t found in grand gestures.
It is found in stewardship.
Planting flowers.
Protecting butterflies.
Looking after bees.
Listening carefully.
Sharing stories.
Helping children notice that the smallest acts of care often become the largest acts of hope.
Sometimes I think the bee understands this better than we do.
It never questions whether one flower matters.
It simply keeps flying.
Creative Therapeutics
For the last few years, I have been immersed in a PhD exploring Creative Therapeutics.
That phrase can sound wonderfully academic.
Yet, at its heart, it is beautifully simple.
Creativity is not decoration.
It is not an optional extra.
Sometimes creativity becomes a place where people discover language for experiences they have never been able to explain.
A poem.
A drawing.
A play.
A story.
A butterfly.
A wandering lamb.
They cannot solve every problem.
But they can remind someone that they are not facing those problems alone.
As a nurse, I have spent years witnessing suffering.
As an educator, I have watched students carry invisible burdens.
As a storyteller, I have discovered that imagination can sometimes reach places that explanation cannot.
Perhaps that is why these different parts of my life no longer feel separate.
They have always been telling the same story.
What Comes Next?
The truth is...
I don’t know.
The PhD is entering its final stretch.
If all goes well, later in 2026 I hope to become Dr Delahunt.
I hope these stories continue to reach schools.
I hope The Butterfly Farmer finds children who need it.
I hope one day a larger publisher sees the same potential that teachers, parents and children have already begun to see.
Not because I want bigger sales.
But because I believe this ‘message’ deserves a wider audience.
Love should travel.
Kindness should travel.
Hope should travel.
Stories are simply one of the ways they do.
Hunter Moon
There is another story waiting.
Its name is Hunter Moon.
Perhaps it will become the third book.
Perhaps it will complete the journey.
Or perhaps it will simply open another door.
I’ve learned not to force stories.
They seem to arrive when life has quietly prepared me to understand them.
So I wait.
I walk.
I notice.
I write.
The Journey Continues
This summer isn’t really about promoting books.
It is about carrying the message.
Into schools.
Into libraries.
Into woodlands.
Into hospitals.
Into conversations.
Into places where someone, perhaps for the first time, feels truly seen.
The children I met this week reminded me of something I had almost forgotten.
We spend so much of our lives trying to be understood.
Perhaps our greatest calling is simply to understand others.
If these stories continue to travel, I hope it won’t be because they are beautifully written.
I hope it will be because they gently remind people of something they already knew.
That love does not have to be earned.
That everyone deserves to belong.
That caring for people and caring for the natural world are part of the same story.
The wandering lamb found its way home.
The butterfly has now taken flight.
We’ll see where Hunter Moon leads.
Until then...
Thank you for walking beside me.
Thomas Delahunt
The Hobopoet
One final suggestion
If this story resonates with you, I’d love you to share it with someone who might need reminding that they are seen, they belong, and they matter..
Work for a school?
Attached to a schools?
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