Fly

Sometimes…sometimes, I just wish I could fly. 

I wish I could get up above the city lights and dance in the clouds. I don’t want to be on this earth, because it’s too heavy. There are too many things in this world that clamor and clang. I want to listen to the orchestra of the heavens. I imagine that the stars sing, but they play instruments too, heavenly instruments that no mortal being has ever seen or dreamed up. To be free to dance in a world without any sound but beautiful, celestial music is too much to dream. 

I get so tired of everything that happens. Writing is the only way I can escape. I can drown myself in a sea of words, visions, and landscapes that have never come to pass. My soul seems trapped by the challenges of every day life, even though mine is relatively easy. People come and go, chores that must be done, tasks that make up life. But to be free…oh, to be seized by that wonderful break from the chaos, to dance in a world where nothing but love and light live, would be divine. I think that is what Heaven must be, to have a world where spinning and dancing and making music and flying among the stars is acceptable, because they are worshipping God. We’ll sing and raise our voices and give all glory to God in the highest. And the stars will be a tangible landscape. It’s not so distant after all. 

How can I cut free here on earth? How can I escape? My head feels full of do’s and don’ts, lists of memories, questions, and unconquerable tasks. It’s not that I mind this place…no, I guess I do mind. I don’t even understand what I’m longing for, but I know that nothing on this earth will satisfy it forever. There’s only so close I can get to Heaven from earth. Only so high I can reach. 

As I look about me, I see the details of an ordinary, comfortable life, but there must be more. I am sure there is. Can laundry and cleaning and school and cooking be all there is to life? Isn’t there more? How does one find it? How can I seize it? Can’t I dance among the stars now? Why do I have to wait? 

I want to find purpose. I’ve never thought of this before, I have only gone through my whole life thinking about me, but it’s not about me. The stars don’t shine for their own glory, they shine to magnify each other. They can’t shine alone. If I shine only for myself and on my own, I’ll never learn to dance. Somehow, I have to learn the steps as I watch the others around me. When I watch my own feet I fail. Show me then, the men and women who have learned the steps so that I may learn, and then show me enough, that I can show others the steps to the eternal dance. Show me that I may fly through the stars and be carried away by the music for my LORD, for that is the only reason I exist. Why am I here but to serve the master who breathed life into my nostrils. This is my song of prayer and praise. Teach me the steps, oh, LORD, I want to know them. 

My purpose in life? To love God. To Love people. To deny myself. I want to be a shining star in the universe, but I can’t do that unless I am kindled by the SUN of the universe. There’s only one Sun, it gives us life. There’s only one Son and he gave me mine. 

So here I am, Oh Lord. Teach me your ways. I dance at your feet, but I don’t know the steps. Show me. Lead me. Let me see when all is too dark around me. Raise my head from this clouded earth and let me walk among the starlight. Will you let me dance for you? Help me, God. I give you all I have. My words, my music, my hands, my feet, my eyes, my tongue, my ears, my song. I lay them before you. I will dance. 

The music is a whirling tapestry of motion and color. I want to be the thread. Will you use me to create an image of yourself? Will you let me bind a wound, or set the captive free? My life will not be my own. Nothing I do will be but for your Glory. Renew in me a clean heart, God. Meet me in this place. Teach me to dance. I come before you with broken feet and deaf ears. Teach me to hear the music of your Word, Your Breath, and lead me through the dance. Lead me through your beautiful world. Let me fly in the stars.

A Character Sketch ~ Jean Valjean

A Character Sketch ~ Jean Valjean

From the Book, ‘Les Miserables’

Work by Victor Hugo, translated by Norman Denny

Sketch Written by Janelle A. Spiers

In the year 1862, Victor Hugo released one of the most anticipated novels of the French culture.  A volume twenty years in the making, Les Miserables shook the world with its pathos for the rich history of France, the poverty of the working people, and the political revolutions that stamped their names in the foundations of Paris and Waterloo. Hugo wrote about the common people, placing them in the hardships of the early 1800s and surrounding them with visions of love and revolution. From the street urchin Garoche, to the prostitute Fantine, to the well-spoken Enjorlas, Hugo swept the streets of Paris for his characters. His main protagonist, Jean Valjean, is no exception to the common life of 19^th century France, in fact, he is so average, he almost blends right into the seams of Paris’ history.   

There are two kinds of characters when it comes to their impressions of Jean Valjean, those who like him, and those who do not. Seldom is there a lukewarm spirit when Jean Valjean comes into question, although most of them would admit that he is quiet and odd. Jean Valjean is not accustomed to speaking more words that he needs, but it doesn’t mean that he is unintelligent. His mind is always turning in contemplation and deep thoughts that cannot be expressed in words, but the people do not know this. All that those around him know is that he is quiet, reserved, shy, perhaps, but above all, very strange. He has an air of mystery that entrances and turns away people who come into contact with him. Jean Valjean commands an authoritative presence, but at the same time, a gentle, humble spirit. He has been nicknamed ‘the beggar who gives alms.’ But when men meddle with him, Jean Valjean becomes a menacing, powerful man and can throw a good punch and disappear like a phantom. Men and women alike either come to him with their troubles or cower and sneer at his coming.

Jean Valjean appears to be a very poor man. He is dressed in rags and old torn clothes, and he has no carriage or permanent establishment.  He carries everything he owns in a small valise wherever he goes; the little case earned the name ‘his inseparables’ because they are never to be parted from his side. He is famous for an old yellow coat, which most dismiss him as a shabby scamp, but on further inspection, to the astonishment of one nosy old woman, a vast sum of money and disguises are hidden in the lining of his coat, adding further to his aura of mystery. He is neither an attractive nor an ugly man, and his eyes are drawn in thought and alluded sorrow. Jean Valjean has brilliantly white hair from an early age and it is often used to identify him. He has a pensive face and rarely smiles, but there is a strength in his eyes that is not easily missed.

The more acquaintances Jean Valjean acquires, the more they come to depend on him in some way or another. He is recognized as a generous man that gives money away easily, and without much question. Those who love him come to him in their need, but make an effort to repay him for his kindness. Those who despise him come with open palms, waiting to take what the old man will offer them with no thought for the giver himself. People see his actions as generous, albeit strange, and there is no doubt that though Jean Valjean is quiet and aloof, he has a loud heart. His actions speak far louder than his words and even the poorest men can recognize this about Jean Valjean.

After his father died when he was a boy, Jean Valjean was left orphaned and in the care of his older sister. He helped to provide for his sister and her children as he grew older, but despite his hard work, the children continued to starve. One night, Jean Valjean was arrested for stealing bread for his nieces and nephews. What would have been five years in prison for the felony became nineteen after four attempted escapes and additional sentences. When Jean Valjean was finally released from prison, he was required to carry a yellow passport informing anyone who wanted to see his papers that he was an ex-convict.

It is at this point that Jean Valjean is introduced into the story of Les Miserables. After being turned away from every inn on the road, Valjean is finally offered shelter by a bishop named Myriel, a highly devout and kind man.  Valjean steals the bishop’s silverware in the night and runs away, but he is caught by the police and returned to the bishop’s house. Bishop Myriel admonishes Valjean in front of the police for forgetting the silver candlesticks on the mantle, which he claimed to have given Valjean as a gift. To Jean Valjean’s utter astonishment, he is released and posses not only the silver, but also the entreaty to use the gift for good and not for evil. Bishop Myriel pleads Valjean to turn from darkness into light and claims he now belongs to God.

Three years pass and Jean Valjean, who has taken up the alias of Monsieur Madeleine, is a wealthy and influential businessman that has just been elected for mayor. He has followed the Bishop’s wishes and seeks to make up for what he has done. When an impoverished young woman named Fantine is hurled into Valjean’s life, he tends her and tries to comfort the forlorn woman. In her anguish and sickness, Fantine tells Valjean about her young daughter whom she had to give up. She entreats Valjean to bring the girl to her so that she can care for her daughter. But before he can do so, an astonishing event occurs. Monsieur Madeleine is informed that Jean Valjean has been arrested, tried, and found guilty and sentenced to death. The real Valjean rushes to court and gives himself up for the wrongly accused man, but everyone finds his story so crazy he is not arrested at that moment. An officer named Javert, a man who has been hunting Valjean for his entire career, arrests him upon his return to his city. Fantine dies from shock when the man who had saved her is pronounced a criminal.

After faking his death in an accident aboard a prison ship, Valjean makes good on his promise to Fantine to take care of her daughter, Cosette. He takes her away from the Thenardiers, the cruel family Cosette has been forced to live with, and he tends to her like his own daughter. They live in sundry different places throughout the city of Paris, because Javert is unwilling to believe that the notorious Jean Valjean is dead and continues to hunt him. For many years, Valjean and Cosette hide in a convent until Javert loses his trail completely. Cosette grows up completely unaware of her true parentage and any history of her father, because she was too young to remember a time without Valjean.

When they finally move to a tenement house in Paris, Cosette is a lovely and attractive young woman. Hardly any time passes before she has caught the eye of a gentleman named Marius, and he hers. Valjean is unaware that Cosette and Marius are madly in love and that Marius sneaks into his garden to talk with Cosette until several suspicious incidents compel him to move. As the Revolution swells and rallies the French to action, he moves to another part of Paris, only to discover how much the two love each other.  When he receives a letter intended for Cosette, Valjean discovers that Marius plans to go to the blockade and die in glory and in heartbreak because of their sundered love. Valjean also goes to fight at the blockade, but it is uncertain if he planned to save Marius, or let him die, for he is jealous of the affection that Cosette has for Marius; it used to all belong to him.

At the blockade, two important events shape the rest of Valjean’s history. The first is that Javert, the police officer, has been caught as a spy and Valjean is given permission to kill him upon his own request. But when he takes Javert out to shoot him, he releases the man and gives him his life and freedom, knowing full well that he might be arrested later. The second important moment is that Marius, wounded and unconscious, is rescued by Valjean and taken through the sewers to freedom. But before Valjean can make it to safety, Javert finds him again and demands his arrest. Valjean asks to take Marius back to his family first, and then return to tell Cosette goodbye, and afterwards allow himself to be arrested. Javert honors his request and lets Valjean go up to his apartment to speak to Cosette, but when Valjean returns, Javert is gone. Troubled by the conflict of conscience and law, Javert lets Valjean go free, but finds himself so disgraced as a man of the law that he commits suicide by jumping into the Seine.

Valjean permits Cosette to marry Marius, who lives despite his injuries. But after the wedding he tells Marius of his history, his life as a convict, and Marius is appalled. He tries to limit the amount of time Valjean spends with Cosette, until Jean Valjean stops coming entirely. At this time, Marius realizes that he had made a grave misunderstanding about what crimes Jean Valjean had actually committed and discovered that Valjean had in reality saved his own life. Hurrying to his apartment, Marius and Cosette find Valjean sick and dying; they are too late to save him.  In his final hour, Valjean and Marius are reconciled and Valjean tells Cosette her mother’s name. He dies in their embrace, under the light of the Bishop’s candlesticks.

Valjean is constantly haunted by his guilt. After repenting and reshaping his life because of Bishop Myriel’s mercy, Valjean strives earnestly to do good. However, he is hounded by his past life; he cannot escape his past even if he can escape the law. Valjean’s two faults are a lack of self-esteem and a guilty motive for some of his generosity.  He lacks the freedom to accept his forgiveness and pardon so that he can be separated from the chains of his past. Instead, he is a slave to what he witnessed in prison and how he got there. In addition, he is motivated to do better than he had in the past, but his motive is one of coercion more than out of love.

However, because of his guilt Jean Valjean has a powerful moral compass. His conscience refused to let him be silent when another man was accused of his crimes. It would have been very easy for Valjean to let the man be punished for his own actions, but he chose to give himself up and not make him pay the price for his own sins. Another result of this is when Valjean told Marius about his life. He could have hidden his secrets, no one would have known him as he truly was, but he was so haunted by his guilt and conscience that he chose to tell Marius. Another merit of Valjean’s was his heart. It’s uncertain if he gave away money, sacrificed time and resources, and made good on his word because of his guilty conscience and he felt that it would redeem him, or if after the bishop’s commission he honestly sought to help others. Knowing the character of Valjean, it is likely that both factors played into the actions of Jean Valjean.

            And then there is the power of Valjean’s love. He so earnestly loved Cosette as his own that to be separated from her was to die. Having never known the embrace of a woman, or the love of a mother, or the friendliness of a sister, Cosette was to him all those things.  It physically pained him to be removed from her and he physically diminished. His death was hurried by his separation from Cosette. It is certain that no guilty conscience was the cause of his great love for her.  In his compassion for her mother, Jean Valjean took in a tiny waif that would prove to be the best thing that had ever happened to him.  His jealousy may be understood when Marius began stealing parts of Cosette’s affection away from him.

            Victor Hugo’s, Les Miserables, paints a gripping picture of the hardships of the 19^th century in the slums of Paris.  Jean Valjean’s troubled past is rippled into a troubled future, where poverty and political overthrow take the freedom and privilege of every man, woman, and child. Written for the people, Hugo left them a memoir of prestigious influence that still affects the world as we know it.  From the orphan Cosette, abused and mistreated, to the wicked Thenardier and his greed, Hugo captures a picture of days gone by, but certainly not days we can not relapse into.  With his main character, Jean Valjean at the heart of this story, Hugo does not leave his troubled characters in despair; he gives them the chance of redemption. Like Jean Valjean, we must learn from our past and let it inspire our future, because in a world such as this, what have we but life? In the words of Jean Valjean, “It is nothing to die. It is frightful not to live.” (1197)

What We Wish We Weren't

A friend of mine recently asked the question, 'What is a body?' and then proceeded to answer it in the most beautiful and poetic way imaginable. It caught my attention and I asked if I could share it with all of you, because it's a message that needs to be shared and contemplated. It rings with truth and purity; that's hard to find nowadays.

"What is a body? A literal reflection of our inner selves? A walking organ that functions based off of the whims of some unseen soul? A prison? We become so consumed with the outer appearance of a shell, of the case that protects the vibrant life that resides inside. We color it and paint it, putting on airs and dressing it up telling the world "this is me! Look at my clothes and my skin and my hair. Look at the way I walk and talk and move. This is me." Lies. This is a disguise. A clever trick of the world that allows us to present to our fellow beings exactly what we wish. But what is the point? Who are you trying to impress? They do not live inside your head, they do not spend everyday trapped within the confines of your mind, listening to the endless torrent of thoughts and emotions never ceasing, never letting you rest. We are forced to face ourselves everyday, and often we do not like what we see, because we see what is real. The true being behind the disguise. But what of the world? It cannot handle what resides behind my eyes. Luckily I need not let them see what hides inside. For I have been given a mannequin that I can dress and change to fit my whims. I can make it say what I like and do what I want while I hide within, playing a game with the outside world, waiting to see who will see the cracks in my disguise. My body has become a prison, I have trapped myself with the ideas of what I should be. But is that the function of a body? Is that it's role in the design of the world? To be a cage? I highly doubt it. Our bodies are what we present to the world, merely because we cannot show them what is inside. Therefore what we portray on our outer shell should be a reflection of the inside. Not of the pain and anger. And not of the joy and peace. But a mixture of both. Only then will we be fair to ourselves and say to the world "this is me. Broken and fragile. Sin filled and prideful. But still beautiful." It's time to turn this prison into a home, to build and fix it because it is our residence, to love it because it is a gift, a dwelling to house who we really are, even if only for a short time. It's time to set the captive free and stop hiding away in fear of what we wish we weren't." ~ Caresse N. Hassoldt

Challenge yourself today, dear Reader, wherever you are and whatever your story may be to discover, What is your body? Is it your prison? Complicated machinery? What are you doing with it? Is it meant to impress, is it meant to hide? How can you set yourself free and live the full life? 

 "It's time to set the captive free and stop hiding away in fear of what we wish we weren't."

Adventure is out There!

Once upon a time, a well-to-do Hobbit was asked to go on an Adventure.

His name was Bilbo Baggins, and the idea of Adventure was alarming. He was very comfortable in his cozy house, he had good friends, a lovely corner of the world to dwell in, and a beautiful place to call home. He believed, and he was right in thinking so, that Adventures were nasty, uncomfortable affairs that made one late for dinner.

But as time went on, his curiosity and excitement proved stronger than his determination to stay put. Bilbo realized that he needed to go on the Adventure, not only for his sake, but for the sake of others. He decided he was willing to face his fear, challenge the danger, and run pel-mel into the midst of the unknown, even if he would miss some supper or have to sleep on the ground instead of his nice little feather bed. He was a courageous Hobbit, whose small strength and bravery seemed hardly capable of penetrating the looming darkness, but he was willing, after a lot of fretting and worrying, to do his very best!

Bilbo answered the calling Adventure, and when he returned, he found that he was forever changed. He saw through eyes of experience and trial the hidden paths and unknown places that had always been beyond his reach, and his hands were rough from fighting and hard work. He no longer fit in among his peers because he had so drastically gone out, but Bilbo never lacked friends, they were only different to the sort of company he used to have.

Bilbo Baggins became known as one of the most famous Hobbits in all the history of Hobbits, and the world would have been a very different place had he declined his Adventure, because of course, all of us are called for some kind of Adventure. Some are great and some are small, but none, not even the smallest, is less important than the most epic of Adventures. The quiet ones are most comfortable, but Bilbo's Adventure molded him into better shape, as we all must try to do.

Once upon a time, in another world and time, a young teenager was asked to go on an Adventure, and, well, you get the picture...

This summer I took the Adventure of my lifetime and moved from my home in Colorado across the country to a new home in Tennessee. There have been mountains to move, rivers to cross, and valleys to climb, with some blood, sweat, and a lot of tears throughout. Like Bilbo Baggins, I'm learning to face the challenges and meet it with trembling courage. He made it seem so much easier.

I've learned a lot through these past months, and I'm only at the beginning of the Adventure. There's so much more to come and I'm ready to face it, come what may. I hope that someday, I shall return, go 'there and back again', as Bilbo did, but for now, I'm taking one step forward toward the right direction. It's the least I can do. I'm on an Adventure, after all.


P.S. Bilbo was right, Adventures make you late for dinner...

Fruit of the Spirit: Peace

The Fruit of the Spirit Study: Peace

~ We must fight for Peace

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things." Philippians 4:6-9

When we choose to give God the troubles in our life, in exchange for His perfect peace, it leaves our minds open and empty of that worry, which is perfect room for lies and deception to come seeping through the cracks. That is why we must strive to think of the goodness in life and dwell on the Love of God, for if we forget to remember, we will think of anything. 

~ We must make Peace

     Definition of Peace:     freedom from disturbance; quiet and tranquility     freedom from or the cessation of war or violence freedom from civil disorder freedom from dispute or dissension between individuals or groupsNew Oxford American Dictionary

Peace is freedom from bad things.  Peace is freedom from bothersome noises, from horrible bloodshed, or angry arguments.  As children of God, we are called to live at peace with everyone (Hebrews 12:12) and to help to bring that freedom to the world. We must come ready to the battleground, having fought for our own peace, now prepared to bring about peace to the world. It's not world peace that we should strive for, that's an impossible task; we must look to offer a gentle serenity to the furious dissension around us.  

~ We must find Peace in every place

A king commissioned the finest artists in his land to paint him a picture of peace. One artist brought the king a beautiful painting of lush grass, blue sky, and gentle rolling landscapes.  Another artist brought a painting of lovely colors, gentle tones, and a quiet landscape in a little glen.  The last artist's painting was very different to the others, it was grey and rough, with a huge waterfall pouring down with much foam and rock.  But in the corner, tucked back behind the turbulent waterfall, was a mother bird on her nest...

We see peace in the first and second paintings, lovely, quiet...free from difficulty. But the third picture is the better choice for our own peace. We must teach ourselves to rely on God's infinite peace, no matter where we are or why. Peace is calm in the midst of trouble, and in the midst of trouble, we most need peace. It is like the eye of a hurricane; all about you is shrieking chaos and destruction, but in the eye, if you look up, you can see blue sky and gentle life. If God himself created the storm, we must trust him that there is peace in its midst. 

~ Peace in the midst of conflict

A man had a wife and four daughters.  He was a very successful businessman and he had everything he needed to provide for his family, but a fire was kindled and it burned his investments and property. With nothing in America, he decided to relocate back to his family in England. The night before they were to depart, the man was called to a business matter, so he sent his wife and daughters ahead. However, the ship that bore his family towards their new home was struck by another ship and many lives were lost, including all four of the man's daughters. His wife alone survived the journey and she sent her husband a telegram saying, "Saved alone."  

The man was devastated and he sailed to meet his wife with great sorrow. His own ship sailed over the wreckage of his daughters's watery grave and while on the boat, the man penned a famous hymn that has inspired and touched many today.  He wrote, "When peace like a river attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll. Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say, 'It is well, it is well, with my soul.' "

This is the true story of Horatio Gates Spafford, a man most remembered for his beautiful song. Despite all that had happened to his wealth and family, Horatio didn't blame God, but looked to him for his peace and strength. He relied on God's love and plan for him, he praised God, despite the pain, and he found peace in the midst of conflict and sorrow.

...It is well, it is well, with my soul...

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