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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)    |
| Preventing work from being stale, we change up hours or things to do. Thus, training hands to be made new, we finish tasks the whole long tale. A full day's shift we're made to work, and be not slack, nor aught to shirk. The lunch break helps us not to fail. Each cleaning task I know so well, but others need a learning curve to make me fit from nothing swerve, that when I'm done the best will tell. I see the schedule in some days. Will they require some new displays? Will I learn rest as in it dwell? I wonder will the cleaning shifts be more in numbered thoroughness, or will I need to others bless, in other places show my gifts? When Monday comes I'll know the cause of hours change in workplace clause. The heart will know the hope, that lifts. by Jay O’Toole on August 31st, 2023   |
Waiting for a guest to come doth heighten senses all. Praying for a peaceful sum, that no harm may fall. Waiting 'til the guest arrives, so many preps to do. Hoping that we'll live and thrive when the peace is new. Waiting to meet ev'ry need of guest and home folks here. Waiting until we be freed from each risk and fear. Human guests oft schedule times for the best to be. Hurricanes oft visit climes without cause we see. Waiting for the present knock upon our life's own door. "Grant us, Lord, that on The Rock we're founded as before." by Jay O’Toole on August 30th, 2023 |
Sipping tea, while tasting thought throughout these quiet hours of eve improve the heart as peace is taught. Such moments slow do rest achieve. "Hot Cinnamon Sunset" is its name, a spicy black tea, a wondrous choice. I savor, awaiting the darkness same, while the sun's rays lengthen and rejoice. How warm the tea to taste and touch! It comforts tummy, mind, and soul. The cricket banter helps so much as teatime mouthfuls restore us whole. by Jay O’Toole on August 29th, 2023 |
The 'cane it hurries from the South. It builds its strength the slower it comes. How wide will be its open mouth to dump its rain and windy sums? They say "it's just a smallish storm," but will it prove to be much more? Yet, Michael in its final form left in its swath a months-long chore. Our care is rested in God's Hands. Salvation? Or the worst of it? He works in wisdom in His Plans for He Alone can make us fit. The 'cane of Wrath nears HIStory's shore. To say it, "Nay," we have no pow'r. Upon our knees with God implore to keep us from that fearsome hour. The Man of God, the God of Man, He came a Babe with right to rule. Directing HISt'ry by His Plan, He parts the wise from ev'ry fool. These days of preparation best, we store what needs we may have then, that when we face the coming test survive we will in Wisdom's Win. These days of Grace are Hope's last breath. He's calling now to Saving's Side. Redeeming hearts beyond all death is His great Work beyond all pride. (John 3:16; John 6:37,44; John 14:6) by Jay O’Toole on August 28th, 2023 |
Wonderful friends make life amazing. They lift our spirits every day. The Light of Life is always blazing. His purpose wins. Yes, come what may. Temptation stands to question all the good we've done in life, though "perfect" we could ne'er be called. His blessings' are ever rife. Perspective is a blessed gift. The eyes are open to now see. Each good that's done the heart can lift. Salvation Grace from failings free. O listen, now, to Clarence, wise, and take his words to heart, "No man has fallen, not to rise, who can with friends new start." by Jay O’Toole on August 26th, 2023 |
When just a youth, watching sitcoms each day, she was my favorite of truth. Sweet Marianne, sore tooth. by Jay O’Toole on August 25th, 2023 |
Resting in the writing place, seeking subjects new, speaking with blest words of grace, whether much or few. Writing in the writing place, many thoughts now past, coming slow or some apace, wisdom, that may last. Writing Place is just a nook, crafts and lights aglow. Moments, that I oft have took give me words to know. Writing Place, a savored peace, longing for some joy. Putting words toge'er release endorphins to employ. Waiting in the writing place for the way to end poem in this lovely space, daily hurts to mend. by Jay O’Toole on August 24th, 2023 |
While sitting with a cup o' Joe, I think about my day. The darkened liquid helps me go. Alertness helps me stay. With Stevia and almond milk, I flavor it just right. The taste, once bitter, now is silk. It comforts with no bite. A moment's peace with a silent friend attends me on the couch. The gentle lights and music blend, preventing Oscar's Grouch. My evening's work in ease is done with clarity apace through Macchiato's vict'ry won to paint a smiling face. His gift created cherries' beans to roast and then to brew. A lifetime's labors start with "greens" best sipping 'til we're through. by Jay O’Toole on August 23rd, 2023 |
The sun shines hotter ev'ry day, mysterious and rare. The Truth is showing all to say, "Conviction's clear with care." How bright it is! The rays unknown, not often seen by man. Are these the days with normal flown when Judgment comes by Plan? To hydrate Self, we that do know, before the heat deflates. Be careful when we plant or mow to keep alive to date. The desert heat is bright always. No trees nor buildings shade the awesome power of the days as Nature, God obeys. But when the desert heat is seen throughout the lands up north, it's time to understand what means these days he's bringing forth. The God, Who speaks through Written Word, now speaks through Earth and sky, "The days for calling Me 'The Lord' are closing pretty nigh." "Before I take My Bride away, you can yet bow the knee, but after, 'Lord' you then may say, 'twill be My Victory." His heated Presence grows, today. Salvation draweth nigh. Receive Salvation and obey, redeemed of His Hand by. by Jay O’Toole on August 22nd, 2023 |
The light of eve was long, then dim, until the dark consumed. The day of play was gone from them, but suppertime perfumed. What wondrous memories brought from youth foretell the end of days when Darkness hides the light of Truth by humor's shtick displays. We played for hours 'til she called, "Come home. It's time to eat." We loved to run as trees were sticks, outlined by Sunglow treat. But when she called we knew, "It's time!" Or sweet be turned to wrath. If she called, again, the tongue would be primed for lashing. Do the math! In truth, the supper was always good, the tastebuds' lovely feast. For sweet tea added to the food of chicken or roast beast. What wonders lay in store for those, who strain to hear the sound of trumpet call for ones He chose, whose lasting state abounds. The Dayspring shines his final rays. The Spirit's Presence "lets," until the end of Gentiles' days in dark'ning silhouettes. "It's Supper Time!" the Groom will call. The Bride, now, ready-made will share the feast with Him and all, so bidden and displayed. ------------------------------------------------------------------ "7 Let us be glad and rejoice, and give honour to him: for the marriage of the Lamb is come, and his wife hath made herself ready. 8 And to her was granted that she should be arrayed in fine linen, clean and white: for the fine linen is the righteousness of saints. 9 And he saith unto me, Write, Blessed are they which are called unto the marriage supper of the Lamb. And he saith unto me, These are the true sayings of God." (Revelation 19:7-9, KJV) ------------------------------------------------------------------------- "No man can come to me, except the Father which hath sent me draw him: and I will raise him up at the last day." (John 6:44, KJV) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- by Jay O’Toole on August 21st, 2023 |
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