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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)    |
| This sunny cool of Florida, refreshes, while the rest endure the snow, the sleeting cold, a blustery, windy test. The spring will come quite soon enough, but not so soon for some. This winter’s wild and wooly days created hearts so numb. These past six months have been a romp through things, that stretch the soul. A ‘cane most rough, a frost, that bites, events to wear those whole. The word is, “There is more to come, a cold to chill the bone.” Until that day we’ll sing His Praise in wondrous, Heavenly tone. A sadness fills the earthbound soul, but hope, it fills the heart of one, who knows the lasting Goal will in His Presence start. by Jay O’Toole on February 21st, 2025 |
| Blooms of light, so red and white along the murky road. Headlights shovel away the night as darkness piles its load. Steady beams of white and maize continually march this way. Knobs of white stand on display as signs we must obey. Multicolored lights dance free, proclaiming wares for sale. Gasoline’s the sign I see for thirsty car’s detail. Green signs, yellow signs, and red, a book, that car lights read, preparing us for what’s ahead to wisely drive each deed. The droning of each passing mile can rock us near to sleep, but we’ll be home in a little while, where pillows rest us deep. by Jay O’Toole on February 20th, 2025 |
The Christmas Corner, crafting room of needlepoint and lights. This gentle place it makes to bloom ideas 'mid the sights. The Christmas Corner, smallish place to think, to craft, to be. What will the moments of this grace bring forth for all to see? Some dream of hills, of forest glen, of meadows, and their streams, but I am helped by way back when the child's Joy wrote by reams. The Christmas Corner calls to me when life has been a mess. The gentle lights, the carols be environment of rest. The Christmas Corner's other names to those, whose restful peace restores their hearts as Life it tames to give their hope release. In Christmas, there's identity with One, Whose birth we sing. Salvation, chest from stone, it frees and gives the spirit wings. The Christmas Corner, day by day reminds of Heaven's Bliss. The hopeful heart will always say, "He made us just for this." by Jay O’Toole on February 19th, 2025   |
The times of troubled weather news, the times of other news, that's bad are hampered by so many views, but where is news made glad? The news political is vast. The news of truth seems mostly gone. The news of hope is sadly past. The future bright needs a hopeful one. The news is good when spoken by The One, Whose words bring Hope, so blest. The Savior, Truth, will never lie. He rose for aye beyond the test. by Jay O’Toole on February 18th, 2025 |
| So many truths to deal with now. It seems that all must be respected, and before them bow, or awful will be me. I've seen The Truth in John 14, verse number six it reads, "I am The Way, The Truth, and Life." There's no other Truth to heed. "That's not so loving, Preacher Man. It's intolerant and strong. You need to change your Gospel plan, and tune your singing song." by Jay O’Toole on February 17th, 2025 |
almost spring but not cold returns in frigid nights protect the flora by Jay O’Toole on February 14th, 2025 |
| #1 Bob Denver sailed as Skipper railed about the plights of island nights. #2 Bob Denver's day near shallow bay was filmed in time when cars weren't prime. #3 Bob Denver's folks heard ill-timed jokes. "Three-hour tour" did years endure. #4 Bob Denver's name was nearly same as he, who sang, but then bells rang. by Jay O’Toole on February 13th, 2025 |
| For when a squirrel across my path doth cause me give him chase, I stumble forward, soon to laugh at circumstanced abase. On a rabbit trail the bunny hops, before my wistful gaze. I run, pursue before it stops, with stupered friends amazed. My knackered frame on verdant knoll, near-flopped without command when a hawk swooped down with a smile so droll, "I pray thee still to stand." While trippingly with my tongue I bade, "Fly not away from here." "Whence can we sup, low-brow, earth-made in situation clear?" The squirrel, again the rabbit's dance, the eagle's beak, the closest glance, the tree trunk wins, the respite sleek, the battle thins. The dust now settles on the scene as hawk unperched in limb so mean his head now rattled, no food to glean. Raspberried tongues so small. How focus we upon the day of earthly tasks? This cautionary tale us slows, consistent asks, "Doth rushing here and there, and there and here in masks portend a ruthless fall?" A focused heart in a slowish gait may help us think anon, while many tasks upon our plate do work best one by one. by Jay O’Toole on February 12th, 2025 |
| The love I feel within my heart is never fully known. The hope I knew at our day's start was real. Oh, how it's grown! The love, that sacrifices all, to give the greatest Gift, forever hears the lasting call to help his loved one lift. The love, that focuses upon the everlasting Day is one, that loves The Greatest Son in all we do and say. by Jay O’Toole on February 11th, 2025 |
| Chilly wisps, like fingers clutch the skin, that's not enrobed in coats or blankets, that its touch seems a burning, frosty stove. This winter pushes spring away, that polar freezings thrive amid these cloudy skies, today, uncertainty alive. Chirping birds, and dancing leaves, the frogs and crickets trill. Distant winds almost deceive by subtle strength of will. One wonders, if this cold-pressed word of God's a warning touch, "Your North's a shaky, sadly blurred now image as you're much." God's greatest Judgment is to give us just what we demand. Our leaders often are reflections of our human plans. To separate us from our wants, and stated great desires would make rebellious every jaunt, and warrings with God higher. So, God in wisdom steps away from things He oft protects, and gives us what we'd like displayed. Our hearts of sin reflects. To "give us over" to our hearts is what we think we want, but then each consequence, it starts in never-ending haunts. Like parents, who would give their children icecream every meal, the self-demanded blessing's rendered past it's great appeal. As winter's cold, that numbs the digits of the exposed hands each heart unfettered by its wishes can't see God's Great Plans. If you can see the wisdom of the self-denying way, then thank the Lord, Who reigns Above. His Hope is on display, but if you're satisfied with a life, that lets you live for self, the coldness of a lasting strife has placed you on the shelf. by Jay O’Toole on February 10th, 2025 |
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