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 We live much of life amid unique choices. Joy is anchored in The One beyond our life. |
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“There are times when solitude is better than society, and silence is wiser than speech. We should be better Christians if we were more alone, waiting upon God, and gathering through meditation on His Word spiritual strength for labour in his service. We ought to muse upon the things of God, because we thus get the real nutriment out of them. . . . Why is it that some Christians, although they hear many sermons, make but slow advances in the divine life? Because they neglect their closets, and do not thoughtfully meditate on God's Word. They love the wheat, but they do not grind it; they would have the corn, but they will not go forth into the fields to gather it; the fruit hangs upon the tree, but they will not pluck it; the water flows at their feet, but they will not stoop to drink it. From such folly deliver us, O Lord. . . .” ― Charles Spurgeon “Our anxiety does not empty tomorrow of its sorrows, but only empties today of its strengths.” ― C. H. Spurgeon “Hope itself is like a star- not to be seen in the sunshine of prosperity, and only to be discovered in the night of adversity.” ― Charles Haddon Spurgeon “If sinners be damned, at least let them leap to Hell over our dead bodies. And if they perish, let them perish with our arms wrapped about their knees, imploring them to stay. If Hell must be filled, let it be filled in the teeth of our exertions, and let not one go unwarned and unprayed for.” ― Charles Spurgeon “A Bible that’s falling apart usually belongs to someone who isn’t.” ― Charles Spurgeon “Visit many good books, but live in the Bible.” ― Charles Spurgeon “When your will is God's will, you will have your will.” ― Charles Spurgeon https://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/2876959.Charles_Haddon_Spurgeon (Philippians 2:13, KJV)    |
Some day, quite soon the thund'ring sky will give voice to He, Who with that voice created all things. Magnificent for He saves us by His Choice. His rescue plan, better far than space ship sings. At moment's notice He then lifts through the sky His chosen ones by trumpet call, that still rings. We can't make plans for airplane trip way up high, but ready make our hearts for Bridegroom comes soon. No tax, nor airfare fees can ever apply. The living Son, Whose Merits make by trust boon. Bought heart a vessel for the blest Holy Oil. When called we wave goodbye to Earth and the moon. This earthly house of wearisome, lonely toil gives way to life as death no more may us foil. by Jay O’Toole on August 29th, 2025   |
Sometimes when I would rhyme a rhyme the rhyme won't come apace. I other things would do betimes to look for writing grace. And then the rhyme would flow it best, while focused on the deed. 'Tis writing actions through the test, that make a verse to read. The poem's gift through daily days stands lumberjack at words. To chop, to hone, to carve displays. to make a nest for birds. Sometimes I need a knotted craft to spark the words I need. Embroidery threads and cherished laugh, creative things now freed. The "hope of every contrite heart," the Saving Lord all blest may cause my words to slowly start, while leading to His Rest. by Jay O’Toole on August 28th, 2025 |
Sweet gift of tea at end of day to sip away the moments. Nothing to do, nor aught to say, but joy for all proponents. The steeping time's a culinary art for less is more, you know it, but if too long to finish from start, quite strong 'twill be, I trow it. Yet, strong tea with a crisp or two will mellow out the lading of sharpest spice, that when cup's through, I'll seek a new one waiting. I often get the strength quite right, but this one now is biting. To sip it through with all my might for me the cheese is fighting. Some Rooibos as a gentle gift will fill emotions brimming as flavors of this herbal lift to take this tired heart swimming. by Jay O’Toole on August 27th, 2025 |
| Even when the change is good one's life must then adjust. A new way tweaks the heart's own mood. The unknown way needs trust. Retirement comes when life is full. Still, some things need to rest. One's status and the others' pull, determination's test. One chapter of these days is done. A new one comes apace. New victories must needs be won to finish this life's race. The work I've known these past three years is coming to a close. The face made wet by salty tears must face the path I chose. Will I be great or fade away into some lonely walk? Success may come as each new day finds new ones needing to talk. A coffee shop to write my thoughts. A poem, chapter, voice, the gift of newness as I'm taught by God's Own better choice. Some days remain to walk this way, until I lay these down to pick up things to do and say as life by God abounds. by Jay O’Toole on August 26th, 2025 |
Candy was my little dog so many years ago, A Peek-a-Poo to hold and hug, the sweetest friend to know, but she's now gone, and that world, too, of Christmases so long. These days now fly, and when they're through not much is left but song. I burned my legs on the sky-high slide. My head knew the merry-go-round's bolt. I ate the dirt and drank with pride the yard hose heat, red jolt. We went to school, and when 'twas done enjoyed we Gilligan's Island. We walked the mall for Christmas fun. All summers long were swimming. We said the Pledge. We read The Word. We prayed with public school teachers. The Truth we learned each day was heard in school, and from the preachers. "Please, come again, Dear Lord of All. The Ancient of Days is young for old we are through our parents' fall. 'The sting of death' has stung." One day His own He'll call to Supper, while earthbounds know His Wrath. His Sacrifice the saints did cover as sons He made of waifs. The world that was some souls have changed, but one day through the fire the old made new is rearranged, in separation's ire. by Jay O’Toole on August 25th, 2025 |
The ones who see are given sight by The Father's Own Behest. We once were in a lasting plight bound by each earthly test. No man can come to Christ by will, but summoned Father by. We drink forever swine-ish swill, until we hear the Master's Cry, Come forth from death, bound foot and head, like Lazarus, four days gone. The gift God's Word has truly said to Jesus, His Own Son. Until their eyes are made to see in darkness ever bound, but seeing, in Christ Jesus, free, forever known and found. by Jay O’Toole on August 24th, 2025 |
| Gentle light to sit and think before it's time to go. Peace of heart, and hope in link 'mid things we cannot know. Gentle light upon me now, the lull before the storm? Wond'ring 'bout the When and How of a possible alarm. Gentle light with time to sit as window sheers do wave. False alarms? The mind made fit to settle and behave. Gentle light to think and rest as clouded sun so gray keeps working for the Lord knows best. Its job is just to obey. To sit and think in gentle light reminds, that God is strong. In Him is Truth, and never night. He writes the lasting Song. by Jay O’Toole on August 22nd, 2025 |
| After the rain, temperatures are cool. After the rain, we rest. After the rain, the clouds as a rule still cover to make us feel blest. After the rain of thunder-filled lights we find that the earth is quite new. After the rain the softbox 'fore night brings smiles as the day is not through. After the rain, the pressure is gone. After the rain, there's a lull. After the rain, new health has been won. After the rain, the heart is now full. by Jay O’Toole on August 21st, 2025 |
Take a stitch, build a craft, something nice to make. One great choice, another laughed, a life well-lived's at stake. He worries that he'll do it wrong by taking a step right now, but who has ever sung a song all focused on the bow. The mountain is ascended slow, a marathon takes time. We start to do what we don't know. One foothold starts the climb. I failed a test in my fourth grade, was slow to tie my shoes. "Not quitting" was the word obeyed. Though "dumb" she label chose. The gaslight of the narcissist wounds. Yet, God can make a gem from he who trusts, eschews the dooms, and knows the Lord is Him. by Jay O’Toole on August 20th, 2025 |
We want to believe, that who we are is who we're supposed to be, but socializing is such a jar when others are unimpressed "with me." We want to believe, we matter a bunch, but something is terribly wrong when labels are "salted" 'cause I have a hunch, that others just don't like "my song." We want to believe, the Bible is true. It IS true, believe it or not. It's verses are best for both me and you. Let's listen to what may be forgot. "A man that hath friends must shew himself friendly." The Lord Himself knows how much I have tried, but these friendly efforts have been quite upended when others not knowing they're friendly, decried. So, who are disabled among human souls? The ones, who reach out so hard to befriend? Or those, so locked into their own minds as whole refuse all the others, whom they ought to tend? ------------------------------------------- Proverbs 18:24, KJV, “A man that hath friends must shew himself friendly: and there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother.” ----------------------------------------------- by Jay O’Toole on August 19th, 2025 |
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