%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |    We live much of life amid unique choices. Joy is anchored in The One beyond our life. |
|
“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)    |
To live without her has been hard these eight months or so. I lose the words, not a wise old bard. We had to let her go. Survive we do, but not with joy at the thoughts of her great loss. Such energy to play with her toy, or chase the ball I'd toss. She was my only friend some nights when work was finally through. This Christmas midnight really bites. Thick silence floats so new. I look upon the shelf to see a box marked with her name, and cry, that she's no more with me, and wonder if there's blame. The doctor made her go so soft, and took away the pain. Now, something beautiful is lost, and my heart is filled with rain. "'Tis better to have loved and lost," quoth Tennyson of old, "than never to have loved at all." This statement's oh so bold. I'm sure that's true, but still my days are filled with silent hours, no barks of love, all glad displays of one, who knew she's ours. I cannot find my Christmas joy, the one I often knew when Bruhni was alive with us, before her life was through. I know this grief is good heart work, but work it is so hard. This poetry is my best balm, laid thick, like cooking lard. Merry Christmas, Dear Sweet Bruhn! You're in my heart, today. I pray, that when I'm with The Son restored with you's okay. by Jay O’Toole on December 18th, 2024   |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
