Monday, 11 November 2013

A Few Quotes from "Jane Eyre" by Charlotte Bronte

Good Morning,

Recently, I finished re-reading my favorite book, Jane Eyre, written by Charlotte Bronte under the pseudonym of Currer Bell.  While reading, several quotes and excerpts stood out for me.  I would like to share them with you now.

  “The words in these introductory pages…gave significance to the rock standing up alone in a sea of billow and spray; to the broken boat stranded on a desolate coast; to the cold and ghostly moon glancing through bars of cloud at a wreck just sinking.
 I cannot tell what sentiment haunted the quiet solitary church-yard, with its inscribed headstone; its gate, its two trees, its low horizon, girdled by a broken wall, and its newly-risen crescent, attesting the hour of eventide.
The two ships becalmed on a torpid sea, I believed to be marine phantoms” (JE 3).

What talent is written there in those words.  What amazing ability to make you see the mental images right along with the character.

“His changes of mood did not offend me, because I saw that I had nothing to do with their alternation; the ebb and flow depended on causes quite disconnected with me” (JE128).

This particular quote made its way into my consciousness because I believe that there is an important lesson that I need to learn.  If someone is short-tempered and angry towards me, I accept their fault as my own and take it that I must have done something to make them act in that manner.  This is not a good attribute.  Each person is responsible for the actions of themselves and no one else.  Although it may be difficult, it is important to reject responsibility of the other person’s behaviour and be accountable to God for your own behaviour.

“‘Do you wonder that I avow this to you?  Know, that in the course of your future life you will often find yourself elected the involuntary confidant of your acquaintances’ secrets: people will instinctively find out, as I have done, that it is not your fate to tell of yourself, but to listen with no malevolent scorn of their indiscretion, but with a kind of innate sympathy; not the less comforting and encouraging because it is unobtrusive in its manifestations’” (JE 136).

Although, this compliment when said to someone is very flattering, it is important that those who are always listening to others find their voice as well.  It is easy to blend in, to become the quiet friend in a group, but that is not always a good thing.  Find your voice, share your thoughts and problems to your friends; if they are a true friend, they want to hear what you have to say.

“He made me love him without looking at me” (JE 176).

Who has not felt just so?

“‘Turn back: on so lovely a night it is a shame to sit in the house; and surely no one can wish to go to bed while sunset is thus at meeting with moonrise’” (JE 254).

An absolutely beautiful piece of imagery.

“He stood between me and every thought of religion, as an eclipse intervenes between man and the broad sun.  I could not in those days, see God for his creature: of whom I had made an idol” (JE 280).

In the line, “I could not…see God for his creature” is an absolutely tragic circumstance, and yet how common.  God, in His love gives you a present, the deepest desire of your heart; and is in turn replaced by this gift.  We must all be careful to remember from whom are gifts come.

Although Jane Eyre may have been written many years ago in 1846, its morality is still important with the relevance it holds on today.  It is my favorite novel, perhaps because it was my first real book, and so, I encourage everyone to pick up a hard-back edition (There truly is a difference in the experience), crawl into bed, and absorb the words.  Become a part of the story, and let it become a part of you.

Have a Blessed Day,

Monday, 4 November 2013

Hello Again
Hello and Happy November,

It has been many months since I have visited with you.  Recently, high-speed internet became available to us in our location and I have decided to update my blog and resume conversing with you on it.

November has come, and with it the falling leaves and biting winds.  This month has become a month of Thanksgiving.  A month of giving thanks to our Heavenly Father for providing for us all year long.

Unfortunately, in the mainstream world, November is more about preparing for ‘Black Friday’ and ‘Cyber Monday’ than it is about giving thanks.  Giving Thanks to God, not to the Native Americans as is commonly taught in the schools of today.

What would our ancestors, those early pilgrims, think if they saw what Thanksgiving had become.  How ashamed would they be.  How disgusted with the greediness of Americans today.

We can make them, and more importantly God proud once again; if, in our own private homes we once again give thanks to God for what He has done for us.

I wish you all a Happy November.

Have a Blessed Day!

Saturday, 21 April 2012

"Julie" by Catherine Marshall

Julie by Catherine Marshall

 "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.  Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea; Though the waters thereof roar and be troubled, though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof."

 (Psalm 46:1-3 KJV)

Oft times when an author has become very famous for one book or novel, their other titles are forgotten and ignored.

Unfortunately, I believe this to be the case in regards to the authoress Catherine Marshall.  Most famous, and deservedly so, for Christy, Catherine Marshall also authored eighteen additional books; including, a second novel entitled Julie.  While Christy was written about Catherine’s mother Lenora, Julie was written about her own life during the years of 1934-1935.

In January of 1984, Leonard LeSourd, Catherine’s second husband and editor, wrote the forward to Julie and said this about his late wife, “In many ways Julie is Catherine’s own story, because the passion for causes, the quest for faith and the courageous spirit in Julie Wallace were also in Catherine.”

This is the story of Catherine’s life…

“…In September 1934, when my family and I stopped for a glimpse of the town that was to be our new home.  The sky was fresh-washed that afternoon, the storm clouds lifting.  How soon those clouds were to return, and with what devastation, none of us in the fall of 1934 could have dreamed…” (Julie 2).

And it is a heart-wrenching story.  One of love, loss, yearning, growth, faith, and friendship.  A story of tragedy and triumph.  The story of a girl coming of age in a new town during the Depression years.

The Family

Julie Paige Wallace is a fighter.  She fights for her family, her faith, the truth, and equality in the world. 

The fall of 1934, the Wallace family receives the first glimpse of their new hometown, Alderton, Pennsylvania.  The move, a new start, after a year of hardship and a decision made by Julie’s father, to leave the pastorate, and his church in the town of Timmeton, Alabama.  Leaving your life behind to start-over in a new town is a always a difficult decision; leaving your life behind to start-over in a new town, in a new career, and during the Great Depression is akin to madness or desperation.  In the Wallace’s case, it is desperation.

Julie’s Father: Kenneth Timothy Wallace (David Grantland of Christy)
Julie’s Mother: Louise Wallace (Christy Huddleston of Christy-True name Lenora Wood)
Julie Paige Wallace: 17 years
Julie’s Brother: Timothy “Tim” Wallace-11 Years
Julie’s Sister: Anne-Marie Wallace-9 Years

The depression year; 1934, the new town; Alderton, Pennsylvania, the new career; publisher of a small-town newspaper, The Alderton Sentinel. 

The Preparer

The family’s first friend in their new town, is a man by the name of Dean Fleming.  The description at the beginning of the novel for Dean is, “Retired railroad machinist, and repairer of equipment at The Sentinel.”  Although this description is accurate for him, Dean Fleming is much more than just a repair man.  Dean was blessed the gift of being able to understand people to their very core and know just what they needed.  A man of great faith, who is willing to share and teach what was taught to him by a man named John Hammond.  {John Hammond’s character was based on Frank(Francis Edmund) Higgins (1865-1915)}.  Regrettably, I have not taken the time to research this seemingly great man and so cannot give any information on him.}

I admire, trust, respect, and would have loved to have met Dean Fleming.  He not only helped the family with the running of their newspaper, but he guided and encouraged them emotionally and more importantly, spiritually.   Through him, the family increased, strengthened, and restored their faith. 

Dean’s section is entitled The Preparer because of the group he lead in the book, a group passed down to him from John Hammond.  The Preparers is a men’s group which has as its foundation a commitment to serving Christ.  A secretive group based on the scripture of ‘tell no man,’ they meet regularly and decide which projects to take on.  In one case, they took on repairing the faith of this family.  Their reason, “Ken has been hurt by fellow Christians [those belonging to his church back in Timmeton].  Therefore fellow Christians should be the ones to help him get back on his feet” (Julie 362).

The Tragedy

It is beyond my ability to try and condense the tragedy of Julie into a blog posting.  What I can say, is that it is based on the Johnstown flood; an event that Catherine Marshall was very intrigued by.  Nineteen minutes are encapsulated in five chapters of the novel.  Nineteen terrifying and tragic minutes in which hundreds of lives are changed; all because of the greed of one man and those who did not have the strength of mind and spirit to stand up for what was true and correct.


Although, at its beginning, Julie seems to be about a girl struggling to grow up in small depression town, but it is so much more than that.  Correct, the book occurs during a time when Julie graduates from high school, falls in love, and enjoys working at the newspaper, but that is not the main aspect.  It is about Julie becoming a woman a faith.

The Julie who was Catherine Marshall.


I ask that you read Julie.  You will cry; but you will also laugh, and learn, and grow.  


Tuesday, 4 October 2011

A Yearly Tradition

Autumn.  A time when all living creatures, young and old, begin settling into their homes.  Wood is split, leaves are raked, and fires are laid waiting for a time when service is needed.  Bats and balls are put away, replaced with freshly polished sleds and shiny ice skates.

Here in my little town, Autumn travels down the mountain.  The air begins to cool first at the summit, then descends, bringing with it the changing colours of leaves, the nestling of creatures, and finally, the softly falling snow.

Main street turns bright red as the Pistaschio trees put on their winter scarves.  The lake resorts are closed down and the ski resorts pray for snow by November.  Stores bring out their Christmas goods and coffee shops switch to pumpkin spice and egg nog lattes.  For tea drinkers, lavender vanilla is switched to warm spiced chai; and scones give way to nut-breads.

Families, bundled in their warm, woolen layers venture out to pick shiny, red apples and deep orange pumpkins.  Puppy dogs play with the children in the raked up leaves, and cats curl up behind the stoves...warm, fat, and happy to purr themselves to sleep.

The year is an old man now.  Soon his beard will be white, but for the moment he is still spry enough to nip our fingers and bite at our toes.

I pray that you have a lovely autumn and are safe this winter.  Keep a book and blanket close, and your evenings are sure to be pleasant.

Sunday, 29 May 2011

"The Rainy Day" by: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I recently purchased my Mother a poetry book(The Undiscovered Country-Gary Hart Photography) to add to her collection, and found on one of its pages, a lovely new poem.

“The Rainy Day”

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


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