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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)    |
The sunshine dances o'er the wood of different colored hues. The red, and blue, and green is good as yellow shares its due. The sunshine finds a holly bush to dance as twinkle toes, and then to windy red leaves' hush, illuminating those. The sunshine edges t'ward the eaves to dance from lofty heights. "Don't look or sight, it quickly leaves in the sun's great burning might!" The memory of those younger days when Daughter went to dance at the stop sign, Sun his full displays, "Now hide your eyes. Don't glance!" The sun full-orb on treetops dance up t'ward the pastel blue. On the whispering leaves through the tree trunks prance the sun, its rays come through. The grass is like a window pane the sun in ballet form lights down upon this place to gain a foothold, that's so warm. Upon this seat the orange light of sun meets orange chair, and while the day remains so bright, How sweet to sit and stare! by Jay O’Toole on January 2nd, 2025   |
In days beyond the season's rush when Christmas peace is missed, we look for just the slightest brush with what we wish we'd kissed. The gentle shop, that fills the cup with satisfying brew is just the piece of peace to sup, we wished December knew. The Christmas tree that's near the bed or tucked upon a shelf between the books we've lately read to heal the frazzled self. The creche we store in the hallway's side, reminding when we walk of one great Lord, Who lived and died, and lives with us to talk. This Secret Christmas we will find when saved by Jesus' Grace. What He has done so true and kind shows love upon His Face. This Secret Christmas on Day Three was opened when the rock was moved back so that you and me could see He's gone, and walks. Our Secret Christmas finds its peace in Jesus, Babe, now Lord. When we to Him our wills release, His Gift to us, His Word. by Jay O’Toole on January 1st, 2025 |
Silhouetted trees of lines mark the year's last day. Memory, it oft repines, not much left to say. When the last of this great year finds its blanket dark, we must stop and think most clear before the past doth park. Pinkish clouds, some dusty dark aloft float past my place. Election lifts each soul to ark by everlasting grace. The last light of this year retreats, and soon the Gentile's Time. "Repent. Believe," doth oft repeat The Bible's Word sublime. The "lower lights" must now stand fast, until the Rapture's Call. The trumpet of the Lord will blast, and then His Wrath must fall. The Day of Jacob's Trouble's near, great darkness at the blocks. The trumpet is the whistle clear. The runners race o'er rocks. The year of ease, the Day of Grace, of light, 'tis not much left. Come quickly, Savior, to this place or we shall be bereft. "Goodbye, Dear 2024, your gentleness is done. Next light, we'll see a new before, and rest in His Hope won." by Jay O’Toole on December 31st, 2024 |
| Fearsome freezing's on the way. Enter '25. Keep us, Lord, throughout the day, and through the night alive. A polar vortex coming south, thus seeing Georgia snow? Too many days could shut each mouth. Another Helene to know? These birth pangs of the Lord's Return with weather run amuck may cause us to great wisdom learn as chin to chest, we tuck. Please, save our families, plants, and pets amid the fearsome cold. Salvation from our sinful debts, then Christ His Image mold. Fearsome freezing days come soon. What will be life beyond? Will we rebound a better boon? Will something loved be gone? Find safety, Reader, renew the warmth, protect the old and small, 'fore animal and aged harms are bid by polar calls. The temps may newly weary us. We need prepare right now, that when it comes as foot or bus we'll not in losing bow. by Jay O’Toole on December 30th, 2024 |
red the wondrous blooms stamen yellow stand to shine Christmas is its day by Jay O’Toole on December 27th, 2024 |
trees unmoved, front yard animals are still in back cold, the blanket, quilts by Jay O’Toole on December 26th, 2024 |
The celebrations are now done. It's Christmas in the evening. Togetherness in joy and fun, the day is quickly leaving. Tomorrow work begins, again, this Christmas in the evening. So much of life to do and tend with gifts no more receiving. The mellowness of tea to sip, it's Christmas in the evening. Emotions to their sad ones flip. The change I'm newly grieving. These hours more to write, reflect, 'fore wakefulness I'm leaving are quiet times to joy detect. My purpose I'm retrieving. Of story tales, of life's events, this Christmas in the evening, anticipation grows intense for childlike souls believing. So, when it's o'er, the past increase, on Christmas in the evening, we must reflect, and find release to sip our tea alleving. The greatest times throughout the years, this Christmas in the evening are at His Birth and Life Restored. Salvation, His bequeathing. by Jay O’Toole on December 25th, 2024 |
The celebrations are now done. It's Christmas in the evening. Togetherness in joy and fun, the day is quickly leaving. Tomorrow work begins, again, this Christmas in the evening. So much of life to do and tend with gifts no more receiving. The mellowness of tea to sip, it's Christmas in the evening. Emotions to their sad ones flip. The change I'm newly grieving. These hours more to write, reflect, 'fore wakefulness I'm leaving are quiet times to joy detect. My purpose I'm retrieving. Of story tales, of life's events, this Christmas in the evening, anticipation grows intense for childlike souls believing. So, when it's o'er, the past increase, on Christmas in the evening, we must reflect, and find release to sip our tea alleving. The greatest times throughout the years, this Christmas in the evening are at His Birth and Life Restored. Salvation, His bequeathing. by Jay O’Toole on December 25th, 2024 |
Christmas time is here, again, and as we wrap, then sleep, family hearts in love we tend. Great blessings we would reap. Christmas time in many ways begins our time with Christ. All He is, the things He says, His Gift of unsurpassed Price. Christmas time need not be gone when Christmas Day is o'er. Everlasting life He won, determined all Before. Christmas time at this age runs, and soon the new year's here. The Savior of all earthly sons o'ercomes our every fear. Christmas time, tomorrow's Joy, evermore the same will be our lasting, blest employ to He, Who for us came. by Jay O’Toole on December 24th, 2024 |
Some more to do, some more to buy, some things will not get done. The season came, went on the fly, 'twas spent as though there's none. The day before the day before, 'tis now our time is gone. With Christmas here, Yea at the door the yearly curtain's drawn. The wheels upon the road revolve to take us to events, but how can we our chores now solve, our garlic, spices mince? The gift of time spent with our kin, the moments sipping tea, will sanity and mind we win, and hope for such as we. by Jay O’Toole on December 23rd, 2024 |
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