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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)    |
So much of life is lived between the pools and rapids' stress. We try to "keep our noses clean," preventing some great mess. We bob and weave to keep the raft afloat from the river's fists, but constant looking fore and aft can make us miss some twists. We slalom left and chute the right avoiding "grandma's bowl," that stirs the batter to our plight. We hope to finish whole. By guided help we find the pool to anchor for a swim, to rest awhile in blue so cool, considering our trim. Ten minutes time or fifteen max our guide says, "Time to go." We'd just stay there, and still relax. We'd miss the river's show. We leave the pool, and find our way. The rapids keep us tense. No going back nor "On belay," "Attack," our best defense. White water roils, until it ends into a current's peace. Through life we struggle, 'til it wends to lasting Life's release. We would not choose to rapids shoot, while pools make life our bliss, but muscles grow through forces brute, then rest times, that we kiss. by Jay O’Toole on August 31st, 2022 |
spun to catch its meal many land and struggle hard sad to end like this by Jay O’Toole on August 30th, 2022 |
"The macchiato, that's my cup, without a flavor, sugared up. Please, make with almonds, diary-free, the milk I love, and add some ghee." "That's a macchi cup, without the moo to suit the tastebuds just for you. May I write your name upon this cup to let you know when it is up?" "Of course. I'll sit down by myself, and return when called to this lone shelf." I'll watch some people, while I wait to learn their work, their life, their date. "The deadline's Tuesday. We can't sit upon this deal, nor lazy get." "I need a haircut 'fore I go. Please, call me, if there's one 'No Show'." So many people miss the point of coffee shops, that peace anoint. They drink their cups, and do their stuff, then leave when they have had enough. How many sip, and wait to soak the things uncommon for fast folk? Aromas lift the worthy nose up to the heights, like bless-ed rose. The quiet twitter of the joys the coffee bean with friends employs. The gentle moments with a book find taste, aromas, quilted nook. "I've never tasted warmth like this. These coffee beans gave me a kiss." "The sweetness of this well-kept room makes hope within me start to bloom." "We must come here, tomorrow e'en. I've never known such a quiet scene." "I'll get the tab when we return. Great lifetime's peace, like this, unearned." The coffee shop is not a place of background cups through which we race. The coffee cup is our new friend, who listens well our nerves to mend. Our daily rush through daily chores makes coffee shops of peace much more. Essential moments there we spend, before our sanity could rend. The name he wrote upon the cup is calling me. It's hot, and up. Now, stare, I will, off into space to sip my cup, and drink with grace. by Jay O’Toole on August 29th, 2022 |
| So many months we spent within each mother's belly large, that joy of face beheld our grin when treading forward, "Charge!" We grow nine months from start to birth to live so many years. Our "century" is nearly worth eternal days so dear. The first nine months seem very short compared to eight decades. A hundred years can never thwart the cut of Truth's sure blade. This life on Earth seems like a breath upon a wintry day, but youth has little thought of death, while strength doth guide its way. Compare these words, and note the end, our life on Earth, a womb, that seems so small when it is penned, each "coat" in each wardrobe's tomb. But when He comes to change each "coat," and make it last for aye, the Last won't end by all He wrote through the eternal Day. The first birth for each bouncing babe lasts many years beyond the nine months, that our flesh obeyed to tread this sod upon. And likewise when each death doth birth the ones we are fore'er to know in Him our lasting worth removes each fleeting care. by Jay O’Toole on August 26th, 2022 |
| "Big Man, please come. I think it's time. I want to munch. I need my lunch. My wondrous meat should be so prime." "The telling's good. I think I should." "If I could get my food each day, you'd be an elf upon my shelf. You'd stay there silent 'til I say." by Jay O’Toole on August 25th, 2022 |
The script is precious for the play with words and actions there, but when it's lost e'en for a day the heart is filled with care. "O, where'd it go?" We toss and turn to think our script now home, but when it's o'er great new we'll learn before new paths we roam. The script could be in the practice room, and safe 'til next we meet. Embarrassed we, but it no doom. New start will be most sweet. The script could be in the parking lot. Another soul could find, and keep it safe, until the spot, where giving's wondrous kind. The script could be quite lost, unfound, and we would have to pay the price to restore with heart unbound, and live another day. One thing's for sure the script's somewhere, and college students know, they've each misplaced a book, felt care, and lived anew to grow. Yet, losing something that's not yours is a heavy responsibility. With someone's help, we'll find the cure and learn a new ability. by Jay O’Toole on August 24th, 2022 |
When we walk the narrow way the steps may test our faith. We have the hope of lasting Day, but troubles now He saith. Upon the narrow way we tread throughout our life on Earth. His Word, our daily, vital bread because of the new birth. The road is narrow, that we walk because the Savior's Best is lived the moments, that we talk with He, Who lived our test. When we walk the narrow way great fears may tempt us sore. We then repeat His Word and say, "Let's rest in Christ, The Door." by Jay O’Toole on August 23rd, 2022 |
Some days we're strong to run the miles. Some days the goal line's ours, the energy we use for smiles can turn so quickly sour. Some days the strength is quite a gift, but weakness lays us low. We work-out hard, and then can't lift the body next to go. In youthful days we pump the weights, and walk out full of vim, but now the body oft debates each work-out on a whim. Just rest yourself. Let your body groan, until great sleep restores the strength you need as muscles tone, a good day now is yours. by Jay O’Toole on August 22nd, 2022 |
To play a role in Shakespeare's realm requires some hefty talent shown. We need to keep our hands on the helm, if the parts we want, we cannot own. A puckish actor clearly shines as Oberon's assistant, friend, but something else she surely pines to stand behind, her heart to mend. Some new day we may get the part to be the star, enjoy the praise, but now our training from the start supports the lead, and their arms raise. by Jay O’Toole on August 19th, 2022 |
Days away from those they love. When they're home a cloud's above. Duty fits them like a glove. Hurry up, and wait awhile. Shots are fired t'ward rank and file. Working hard to find a smile. Living life by each command, not by what they understand. Higher-ups by choice have planned. Being like the ones before, checking ev'ry hole and door, cautiously new ground explore. Nomad life, protecting home. Hair so short, no need for comb. Bivouac, but never roam. When the discharge papers come days of life may still be some, Freedom still may feel the thumb. Hopefully, the fam'ly's here still with love to cherish dear those, who served, and kept from fear. Sometimes soldiers live alone, far from peers in pain they groan, questioning the seeds they've sown. Let us help them, now, be healed, safe from mortared battlefield, giving life, that hope can yield. Cherished gifts of nation sweet, soldier's needs we now must meet, that the Lord one Day will greet. by Jay O’Toole on August 18th, 2022 |
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