The Jigsaw People of this Puzzle World

Life is a puzzle and we are all jigsaw pieces, trying to make something of the world.

Each of us have our own little life-puzzle that we have to fit together every day. A child's is simple and has fewer pieces to deal with. It makes more sense to put together because there is a surplus of youthful innocence and eagerness to work with the few pieces they have.  The colors are bright, the picture is appealing, the edges are smooth and straight, and they enjoy everything about them in their little puzzle world.

But as we get older and begin to have more doubts and loves and fears, responsibilities, chaos, and joy, the picture starts to change. What was once clear and defined becomes more confusing, since it has a lot more pieces that need a place, and the edges are rough; there are no more straight lines.  The colors darken with our deeper understanding of a messed up, scary world, and the picture no longer makes any sense. No matter how you tilt your head, you can't see what the picture is, but you still have to add pieces and pieces to the jumbled pile, hoping that something beautiful will turn out.

As we struggle valiantly to make sense of it all, little do we realize that right next door, or across the street, there's another person with a puzzle of their own.  Everywhere you look, each person has a life that needs to be sorted out, put together, and built up, one piece at a time.  Some of us have lives that are bright and cheery, the colors on the jigsaw tiles are bold and beautiful, even tough there's still not a complete picture. Others are shunned because of their puzzle.  Their puzzle-life is so dark and obscure that they feel that their whole world is an abyss without a trace of color, no picture, no beauty, no light, love, or passion. Their's is a puzzle far darker than yours, and the edges are rougher than a jagged cliff where it seems that no beauty can ever penetrate.

But what if we were to put all the pieces together?  All the pieces from everyone's puzzle, could we combine our rough edges with a smooth one, and connect them so that they all fit?  The world is made up of individuals, with individual stories or puzzles. But in reality, if you step back and let it all shrink into proportion, we are all one piece of a greater picture. Each piece in our story that seems so huge or monumental is a tiny drop of color in one sea of paint.

When we combine our puzzles with someone else's, we see the formation of a picture, more clear and interesting than our isolated one. The colors blend and the chaos doesn't seem so glaring. As more and more individuals come together all the bleak pasts and hopeful futures merge into a larger, brighter story. There are dark spots, but they line up and blend beautifully with another colorful life.  The woman down the street who was abused, with dark, ugly colors in her puzzle, found a woman with gentle hands to help her, whose own puzzle has a dark streak, but learned to find the color in the world.

We need each other, we humans. Life would look so drab and impossible without them. Of course, some people can't fit together like others. It will take a lifetime of rearranging, turning, and moving to find a place where we fit beautifully with another soul. That's what families are meant for; even in the searching and scrambling to fit in, there should always be a place to call home and know that you belong.

And we all belong. No piece is not meant to fit in the puzzle of life. Jigsaw tiles will forever be added to the edges, increasing the size and picture. The old ones will fade and lose their color over time, but they're no less important after they are dead, because they're still part of the bigger picture. While we are living, breathing, jigsaw tiles, we should never give up or give in, because just when all things seem utterly desperate and impossible, we'll be ushered into a place where we fit with other souls who know our pain, with souls who can heal and help us, and other jigsaw pieces that fill our empty spots. We are never useless, because if we live the full life, we'll find that even though we need help, we help others too, because no jigsaw in this life is cut with all holes, but with circles or squares to fill another person up.

Life is a puzzle, a mystery, and an awful mess sometimes, but we are the pieces that make a great picture. We're the jigsaw people of this puzzle world, and we create a story of passion, beauty, sorrow, and ultimately, the greatest picture that this world can know.  We fit together, despite our wounds, despite our colors, despite our differences to paint the perfect picture of the Maker's love. We see it on a small scale when we step back and enjoy the view, but every day, every circumstance adds another piece to our lives and another's until the end of time when we will finally have a bird's eye view of the place we called home. The puzzle will be completed and we'll take a sigh and shed a few tears; all the work, good and bad, has led to the moment when we are enveloped, wholly and holy in the love of the Maker, who created the ultimate picture, who hand made every piece, and even when we kicked and screamed, pushed us into the places we best belong.

Tribute to Ellie

Tribute To Ellie

I didn't know you well, dear girl,

But I knew your precious heart.

Your smile, your grace,

Your beautiful face

Reflected who you are;

Reflected who you were. 

I wish I'd known you better, friend,

But from what I'd seen of you

You're kind, you're smart,

You're a work of art

And it shines with a light like gold;

It shone with a light like gold.

When first you met me smiling,

I saw beauty sharp and clear.

When last I saw you smiling, 

There was love, and never fear. 

I saw a glow that shone through you

With pure and radiate light.

You showered love like rain

And you fought the hardest fight. 

I think I know you now, dear girl,

I've seen your precious heart. 

Your joy, your grace, 

Your beautiful face

Reflected how you love;

Reflected how you loved. 

I wish I'd known you better, friend,

But from what I know of you

You were sweet, you were smart

You're a work of art

And it shines with the brightest light;

It shone with the brightest light. 

When first you met me smiling,

I saw beauty sharp and clear. 

Now we're left with a vision

A shadow of you, dear.

We see the light that shone in you

That will never cease to gleam.

You've changed the world in a gentle way;

You're the sweetest, brightest beam. 

Dracula ~ A Book Review

Dracula

Book By Bram Stoker

Review by Janelle A. Spiers

“Never did tombs look so ghastly white. Never did cypress, or yew, or juniper so seem the embodiment of funeral gloom. Never did tree or grass wave or rustle so ominously. Never did bough creak so mysteriously, and never did the far-away howling of dogs send such a woeful presage through the night.”

~ Bram Stoker, Dracula

“There are darknesses in life and there are lights, and you are one of the lights, the light of all lights.”
   ~ Bram Stoker, Dracula

WARNING:  Please be aware that if you continue reading this Book Review, you may be subject to reading spoilers and or secrets of the original book.  However, all attempts shall be made to hide the crucial points, in the event that this review encourages you to read this book.  Any information divulged will be deemed by the author of this review necessary to the review, or, not capable of ruining any major surprise. 

Bram Stoker wrote Dracula in 1897 and changed the fictional realm of horror forever.  Stoker’s haunting story of death, love, and fantasized monsters brings both inspiration and chills to the reader, thrusting them into a tale mixed to the brim with modern life and early European folklore.  Dracula has made such an impact in the literary world that Bram Stoker’s ideas have been used in many stories since that time.

Despite the grim circumstances and breath-taking drama, Dracula is a powerful story about good vs. evil.  The light of goodness, truth, and holiness are starkly and beautifully contrasted with the darkness of evil, lies, and horror.  Stoker wove a powerful, golden thread of redemption throughout his dark tapestry, so that no matter how dark the night or how desperate the character, there is always some hope left on which they can cling.  The idea of love being more powerful than fear is also present.  Each of the characters are challenged to decide how far they are willing to go for love for each other, and for life itself.

The unforgettable story begins with a man named Jonathan Harker travelling across the Carpathian Mountains to the castle of Count Dracula, where he will be helping with a legal affair.  After the frightening experience of trying to get to the secluded, mysterious castle, Jonathan finds himself the guest of an equally mysterious master.  As time passes, suspicion and fear begin to build, and Jonathan realizes that he is no longer a guest, but a prisoner; Dracula has locked him in the old castle.  A series of harrowing events plague Jonathan and he barely escapes with his life back to England where his fiancé awaits him.

But a long, arduous life has just begun for the heroes of this tale.  A shipwreck on the coast brings with it strange and deadly results and a young woman with sleepwalking issues suddenly begins to look more pale than usual.  With the help of two brilliant doctors and two other stout gentlemen, Harker and his newlywed wife, Mina, are faced with the fact that there is a mythical creature in their midst, and if they do not stop the threat, Dracula will destroy the world they know and love.

Jonathan Harker is a very steadfast, cool-headed man, but his encounter with Dracula and his eerie home leaves a great strain on him, especially when he thinks his life is at stake.  He spends the rest of the story with a burning passion to defeat the monster, but at the same time, he can lapse into a very weak and fearful state, typically more for his bride than himself.

Mina Harker is the faithful, “guiding star” for the men of this tale.  Her loyalty and compassion to her husband is equally, yet properly, shared with the other gentlemen who bond together to destroy Dracula.  When Mina is attacked by Dracula and her life takes a terrible turn, she longs to stay with those she loves, but she is willing to sacrifice herself in order to keep her friends safe.

Dr. Seward is a major piece of the puzzle and he is necessary to the destruction of Dracula.  He specializes in helping the insane and mentally disabled, and when one such man is found to be working for the Count, Seward manages to pry information from the man to help them in their conquest.

Perhaps the greatest protagonist is Abraham Van Helsing, a Dutch doctor and former teacher of Dr. Seward.  Van Helsing is the first one to discover what Dracula is and how he can be stopped, and despite the fact that no one believes him, he manages to prove Dracula’s true identity and the means to ending him.  Van Helsing is a quiet, thoughtful man with much faith and brain that ultimately result in the demise of Dracula.

Dracula himself is a creature of much discretion and sinister intent.  As a vampire, he is neither dead nor living, and is called “un-dead” as a result.  He preys on anyone and everyone but with so much secrecy that it is almost impossible to detect.  One of the most remarkable traits that Count Dracula possesses is that he is very patient and slow; with no fear of dying from old age, he has hundreds upon hundreds of years on his hands, and so every movement he makes is bold, but in no rush.

The writing style of Dracula is very unique.  Instead of constant narration, the entire book is split up into journal entries written by the main characters, gatherings of newspaper clippings, letters, telegrams, etc.  In addition, the ways the words are written or constructed vary, depending on which character is writing or recording.  However, on an overall note, the understandability of the story can be difficult, due to the older way of speaking and writing, also, based on the long, winding plot line and information that comes with it.

Abraham Stoker was born on November 8, 1847, in Dublin, Ireland, the third of seven children.  Stoker was bedridden for the first several years of his life from an unknown disease or illness, but by age seven, he was completely recovered and able to attend a private school; he never suffered from any major illness again.  In his early adulthood, Stoker married Florence Balcombe, who had been previously courted by his friend, Oscar Wilde.  The Stokers moved to London, where their only child was born, and Stoker became the theater manager for Henry Irving, a famous actor.  There he was introduced to notable people, such as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and on traveling to America, president Theodore Roosevelt, William McKinley, and Walt Whitman.  Dracula was written in 1897, but never attracted much popularity until after his death on April 20, 1912.

Though the story and its characters are fascinating and enjoyable, some of the content may be unsuitable for young or sensitive readers.  There are a few instances of swearing, but they are mild and not used flippantly.  There is some romance between two couples without the book, but nothing intimate is ever recorded or hinted.  Several of the female vampires that appear in the story are described as intensely lovely and they act rather seductively in hopes of luring in prey, but the characters shun such creatures.

            The intensity of the story can be overwhelming.  Several beloved characters die, and one, who died a as a vampire, must be mutilated after death to keep her from attacking innocent children, which she had been doing.  Blood is a central theme and gory idea that fuels the story along, so it may be unpleasant to read.  There is also a mentally insane man who eats flies, spiders, birds, and wants to eat cats, as well, and his death may be distressing.

            The progression of Dracula’s stunning plot line is neat, concise and has left very little room for argumentation, barring the fact that vampires are works of fictitious imagination. All the characters, from gentle and graceful Mina to the intelligent and thoughtful Van Helsing are almost like living creatures that grow and live within the tale.  Bram Stoker has painted a breathing portrait of a world about to be undone by the un-dead.

            Dracula was not the first story about vampires, but by it, a path was forged through the uncharted territory of fiction that still progresses today.  One of Bram Stoker’s characters once said, “I want you to believe...to believe in things that you cannot.” Stoker tried to create a piece of far-fetched fiction into a tale that would seem so real it could bite you, and that is exactly what he did.   Dracula is an amazing, thrilling, haunting tale about the search for light in the darkest places, love in the most hopeless times, and peace from the dreaded monster, Count Dracula.  

(Based on a rating system entirely made up of pros and cons, I judge by different categories to ensure that the reader of this review can aptly choose if this book is an appropriate for themselves or others.)

Theme ~ Positive! (For excellent topics that are inspiring and applicable to life.)

Plot Line ~ Positive! (For a gripping, unmatched storyline)

Characters ~ Positive! (Very memorable and extremely consistent)

Writing Quality ~ Negative! (For difficult, archaic writing style)

Mature Content ~ Negative! (Intense and graphic sequences, more suitable for an older audience.)

Congruency ~ Positive! (For extreme consistency in plot, characters, and quality)

The total score for Dracula by Bram Stoker is 4 out of a possible 6 positive points.

Where the Road Ends

"The Road goes ever on and on..."

Every life is a picture, or a painting, or a legacy to leave behind, but how is it that we get from one place to another?  Life is a story, but we are all traveling down the road that gets us there, from one chapter to the next. On and on it goes, but few of us can ever see that we are taking a journey that will lead us to our final destination; it will either lead us home or we will be lost along the way. 

“It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door,” he used to say. “You step into the Road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there is no telling where you might be swept off to.” ~ Lord of the Rings

I looked out of the window through the foggy glass, and I saw that a road wound before me, disappearing into the mist and fog of early morning. There's never any time like the present, so I grabbed my coat and slipped out into the chill, determined to see where the road would take me.  As soon as my feet touched the pavement, a little cloud of fog vanished in a whirl of vapor, but it was not enough. I could only see one step ahead of me, and so I stepped again.  As if it knew my intent, the humid smoke disappeared, but only enough to see one step farther. This time I could see a light that helped me to see the edge of the road, but not what was ahead.  In anxious excitement, I resigned myself to follow the road until I came to the end.

It was easy going at first. One step cleared the way for the next and I hurried forward towards the light as fast as my feet could go, making marvelous ground. I could see behind me; it was hazy with dew, but visible, which relieved my fear. I could always go back. 

“Go back?” he thought. “No good at all! Go sideways? Impossible! Go forward? Only thing to do! On we go!” ~ Lord of the Rings

I pressed onward, steadily going on, until I came to a place where there was no fog. It had stopped like a wall and as I pressed out of it, I saw that I had come to a cross road.  One branch of the road was wide and smooth, with large, scented flowers all bunched around the edges.  The other was narrow and coarse with small, insignificant buds blooming along the cracks that ran through the road.  'Why shouldn't I choose the way that is clear and pleasant?' thought I, as I summoned my tiring feet forward. 

But the smooth way was not easier, as I soon found out.  It started leading me downwards towards a valley that smelled so strongly of rich perfumes, I felt myself growing faint with delight. The way was beautiful and satisfying, but as I reached the valley, I saw a terrible creature pacing back and forth along the grass.  At once I was horrified and I turned to escape the beast, but found that there were no longer pleasant flowers and lush meadows, but sharp crags and dusty winds rising up to meet me.  As storms raged and overcame me, I cried out for mercy and hid my face from the gales.  I staggered back the way I had come, but the road was steep and difficult for me to scale. But for my fear of the dragon, I should have laid down and let the storms take me.

"The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater." ~ Lord of the Rings

After a long, arduous fight, I made it back to the little crossroads and took the narrow branch speedily. There was no apparent beauty, and my love for the other path began to taint my view of the small one, but I was reminded of the hideous beast and kept on.  I soon discovered that this road had a beauty of its own; the wildflowers that grew in the path made me stop and gaze at them. The birds were singing cheerfully and the sky was blue overhead.  Suddenly, the fog drifted back over the road and I could no longer see ahead of me further than one step, but the little light held fast in its center.  The birds still chirped and the flowers lingered, but I had to trust that the light would hold true and not lead me astray. 

After much climbing, upwards, as I believed, I began to grow weak from weariness. I shed my jacket and left it by the roadside and continued forward, until I reached the place where the fog again ceased. In its place was a weather-beaten shepherd, who sat with the rod in his hand and a flower in the other. 

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference." ~ Robert Frost

"So you have come," the shepherd said, as if expecting me.

"Yes, but where am I?" 

"You have come to where the road ends. Is that not why you have come? You set out to seek it."

"Indeed, I wanted to know where the road leads to, but I nearly forgot my purpose for coming. It has been a long journey." I said as I sat down to rest. 

Suddenly, the fog on the road vanished and all was clear as light upon water.  I could see the place at which I had started, far off in the distance, but it was as close as if it were before me. I saw the twisting winding road which I had taken, though I thought it to be straight. I saw the forked path and the valley which looked now as dark as midnight. And I saw that I had come to a place high above the rest and could see clearly the road that lay behind me. 

"You, my friend," said the shepherd with his rod, "have come a far way. The fog made it impossible to see, so that you would trust the light to guide your path. You took many turns that you did not know, but now, looking back, you can see what a journey you have taken. You fell prey to the temptations and delights of the wide path, and were nearly overcome by the evilness that lurked there.  But, dear one, you righted your course, and though difficult, you made your way back to the lighted path.  And now you are here, where the road ends. You have come into your home."

"…time has a way of leading a person along a crooked path. Sometimes the path is hard to hold to and people fall off along the way. They curse the road for its steep grades and muddy ruts and settle themselves in hinterlands of thorn and sorrow, never knowing or dreaming that the road meant all along to lead them home. Some call that road a tragedy and lose themselves along it. Others, those that see it home, call it an adventure." ~ The Fiddler’s Gun

All This For Love

The world is a broken place.

Can you imagine a time when life was perfectly beautiful? We walked about barefoot in the grass, knowing that no stone would hurt us. We danced about in the rain, never getting cold or tired. And we could love with our whole soul, not one part left for ourselves.

But then it was shattered by the atomic bomb of sin and we were chained as slaves to such evil.  The world rocked, the largest earthquake of them all, and buildings collapsed, dreams were crushed, and souls were stained. And it's been like this for millenniums; broken people in a broken world. There is so much destruction, death, decay, and debris; as we try to walk amongst it, we are constantly hurt and cut by the shreds, dragging our heavy chains.

The world is a broken place...

For some, such excruciating pain means to fall to your knees, clutching at your bleeding wounds, cursing the ground you've walked on, cursing whoever made you. Some of those men and women will get up, determined to fight back and lash out in anger and hatred, like the painful cord of a whip. These are the hurting people; with no balm for the pain, they will fight angrily against it.

But others, they won't get up out of the rubble. They'll prostrate themselves in the dust and glass and make no effort to get up again. The ruin and desolation will bury them as they die slowly of their wounds; away from light, life and love. There is no light when you're squeezing your eyes shut, or trapped under the rubble. Where is life when you expect and hope for every day to be your last? And there is no love when you selfishly close the lid of your own coffin, leaving those who cared for you behind to mourn. These are the hopeless people; without hope or care for anything, even themselves.

After all this, there are also those who fall to their knees, crying out to God, "Why, Lord? Why? How could all this happen?"As their wounds bleed and sprains swell, they listen quietly for that still, small voice, but when they are answered, they begin to tremble.

"For Love," it says in the silence, "All this for Love."

And with that, a decision is made, a switch is flipped, and the heart begins to beat again, palpitating with a furious rush. Some rise up from their knees, determined to fight back and lash out in anger and hatred, like the painful cord of a whip, hurting that the God who made them would let such pain hurt them. Some will prostrate themselves in the dust and glass, thinking pitifully, if this pain is love, then why should we live? What choice is there but to die?

But there is another kind of people. There are those that get up off their knees and bind their wounds, set their bones, and stop the bleeding. They push on through the broken world, covered in scars, but filled with hope. There they find light and life and love.  They see light as they look up to the heavens in silent, wide-eyed prayers. They find life as they tell their bodies to keep going, don't give up. And love has been found in the suffering; though they bleed and hurt they do it for love. These are the hopeful; with hope enough for all the world.

How can suffering be a lovely thing? How is all of this for Love? In our broken, sinful souls, we find longing for the love that only God can give us. We all desire to have love, and the Lord is Love in full. Thus, we long for the only true love, but sin has made it painful to overcome. We are trapped by pain, scars, and sin.

When trials come, they will either make or break us. If we are buried or overcome by such pain, we lash out away from the one thing we need most.  But if we turn to the Light of Life, Love will reach down and touch our burdened hearts, lifting off that painful scar of sin. But it will only work if we can muster our courage, strength, and humility to kneel before the Lord, offer up our stained and dirty clothes, and let Him clothe us in His love, unlock our chains, and lift us out of the mud.  Life may not be easier, but we know that we have found our light, life, and love.

"For Love," He says in the silence of our hearts, "All this sorrow, for you to find My Love."