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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)    |
| It's time to change from poetry to prose. The next two months will know about those. "His rhythms and rhymes so meekly he stows, until it's December, again." October is prep for writing a bunch. November will teach us to write with a hunch. No mincing of words, it's time full to munch. 'Tis a novel in vict'ry to win. My poetry I love from the depths of my soul, but prosaic thoughts must help my book become whole. With writing a novel in November, my goal, I must let my poetry now rest. But God, being pleased to help me finish anew, I'll plan to return with a poem or two, enjoying the birth of our Savior all through December, then's finished my quest. by Jay O’Toole on September 30th, 2022 |
The day of joy and happiness, the day of strife and sadness ill, the day of Christ, Who comes to bless, and judge the world when Wrath does fill. The Day of days when days will end, and Time will be of days no more. The day of joy's and sadness' blend will be a mem'ry as of yore. The day of making God has made, and making still He does today. His Day at first had good displayed, the day went wrong of disobey. The Day of Man is selfish, long. We go our way to night, not day. These days in line still hear Man's song, until Heart's hard or learns to pray. The Day of days and lasting Now when Christ upon His Throne doth sit. The Ancient of days before Him bow when Time hath died, and Aye won't quit. by Jay O’Toole on September 29th, 2022 |
| Note to Self: "Always, always, always, keep your profile's email up-to-date." Today's adventure has been worth at least a few extra gray hairs. "What happened, Jay O'Toole?" Why thank you. I'm so glad you asked. I tried to log in to my WDC profile three times this morning, unsuccessfully. I promptly pressed the button, directing WDC to send me an email link to change my password. The only thing is that the original email, which was connected to this profile hasn't been used by me in about a year because I was getting overloaded with spam. Busy senior year of high school for our daughter. Open a new email account. Forget about the old email. Keep on pressing forward to graduation. Nice plan, until today when I went to the old email to retrieve the WDC Change Password Link. It was then, that realized, This is one of those companies, which deletes everything about your email account if you haven't been there in three months or more. (I've got some emails, that I wish I could delete, but those companies keep the email operational, indefinitely.) "Tell us more, Jay O'Toole!" Okay, if you insist. That was when the big ol' neon sign flashed across my mind, "NOW WHAT!" I'm locked of my Jay O'Toole profile. I have no email where I can pick up the Change Password email. "No more Writing.Com, ever?" (Insert sad face.) Then, the idea popped into my head. Free WDC accounts can communicate with anybody on the website, including The StoryMaster  .That's what I did. I have no intention of keeping the new profile, and newbie status, but for a little while the free account became my communication tool. Finally, after looking around, sending emails to other people I knew, I found his account and sent him the email. He responded so promptly, that I was able to post this blog for September 28th, not missing the date on the blog calendar. I'm really grateful to you, The StoryMaster . Words cannot fully express.All this because I forgot to update the currently used email address, connected to my WDC profile. Now, I can rest easy. Blessings, All. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz... by Jay O’Toole on September 28th, 2022 |
"Your writing style is pretty flawed." "You'll never make a cent." My gift was given me by God to work each day well-spent. "You talk and talk and bore each one, who dares to read a page." Each conversation's really fun. One day "they'll be the rage." "Just look at Dave, and Tink, and Sam. They've really gone quite far." They're "down the earth," less pride and sham. With them, I'm now a star. 'What makes you think your words mean aught?" "What makes you think souls care?" Reception's not what I've been taught if faithfulness is there. "You write about your Jesus Christ when other faiths are here." He's blest me so it's worth the price. I write to make that clear. "You've written poems for many days." "What's here to show for that?" The sun doth shine unnumbered rays. All payments would fall flat. I write to bless the Lord Above. He's worthy all my art. What copper farthing measures of the least His Glory's start? "How do you know you'll find success, while breath doth fill each lung?" I don't. My praise must still confess, "His Honor have I sung." by Jay O’Toole on September 27th, 2022 |
landing on the floor morning glow to wake the day hope of joy to come by Jay O’Toole on September 27th, 2022 |
good days greatly known now they're dried and kept for show dead, but still quite known by Jay O’Toole on September 26th, 2022 |
| The days ahead seem high, and steep. I wonder can I reach the top of this great precipice to learn what He would teach. Why do these days of paths made new seem fast without a break, while climbing up the precipice, so slow the holds to make. New jobs can seem quite tough and raw, until you learn the ropes, and climbing up the precipice is hard. On top are hopes. by Jay O’Toole on September 23rd, 2022 |
autumn's here today heat is oft within the South leaves change late and quick by Jay O’Toole on September 22nd, 2022 |
| The new can be a heavy load when old things are our friends. A path can make the back feel bowed, before the core be cleansed. You want to hit the road, now, running, before the road hits you. The thoughts inside are often stunning, until the day be through. The life we face can be quite tough, until the truth is known. To make us shine, He oft must buff. He helps us see, we've grown. by Jay O’Toole on September 21st, 2022 |
| Some days Life can make you wait. Computers slow you down. You want to go, but end up late with things, that make you frown. Nothing's really wrong it seems. Yet, nothing's as we planned. You try to learn your job and dream of days made new and grand. He has Wisdom past today. The waiting's His Blest Care. Your heart can feel a blue dismay, but Truth will get you there. Wine thus aged is rich and smooth. Each seed, a crop, that grows. The infant held, adult to soothe an ancient's days, that close. Turkeys on Thanksgiving Day are choice when smoked along. The time of waiting's best display is taste, that causes song. Hurry, our existence bane doth make us worse for wear, but waiting causes good to gain, relieving daily care. Often when we wait a day or two, a week or more, we find the best has come to stay, and hope sees more in store. by Jay O’Toole on September 20th, 2022 |
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