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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)    |
One little present under the tree. Who is it for? What can it be? When it is opened what do we then? Visit our family? Visit our friend? One little present, now it is gone. Forlorn the tree when all is done. Christmas, the morning, happiest of days. Christmas, the afternoon. Over dismays. One little present waits through the months, then when it's seen, the heart's in the dumps. Anticipation, great joy in us builds, but when it is seen we lose what was filled. But one little present can ever be new. There's more to enjoy when first things are through. That spot in the heart, filled better than tea by bless-ed the Giver, the Son, it is He. One little Present from Bethlehem's cave was placed on a tree, and then in a grave. He raised after Sabbath to give life, that's new. This Present keeps giving each day, never through. by Jay O’Toole on December 15th, 2021 |
Thoughts of hope, thoughts of love, thoughts of truest Gift. Christmas day will reign Above, greatest Grace to lift. Make no tears as Christmas comes, and Christmas goes anon. Feel no loss, that Christmas sums are over when it's done. Know the Christ, Who came to Earth to save us from our sin. Know the Christ, Who is New Birth this victory to win. Christmas Day was just the start of life in God's Own Son. The long-playing record He'd impart still plays through ages won. When Christ within doth richly dwell this Christmas life fore'er is daily Hope, once freed from Hell, and blessings in His care. by Jay O’Toole on December 14th, 2021 |
Christmas comes but once a year to the beat of glad times living cheer to hold at bay the times of fear, that we too often know. The theme of Christmas is the day, that Christ, the Lord did come our way to save our souls from Sin's long fray, that blest new life may grow. Christmas Day's the finish line of wondrous season, joy sublime, then Life's again the normal kind of work, work, eat and sleep. Many months do pass the bridge of whys and hows. The obscure ridge, Horizon's face, it smiles a smidge 'fore darkness sinks in deep. To make this month great days of bliss the mass ignores for months, Christmas, for it's become a massive This of more to do, 'til done. "Where Are You, Christmas?" Modern song, that searches to correct the wrongs of misplaced values in the throng, 'til Truth has finally won. Eternity is over there, beyond the veil without a care for those, whose Present through a prayer, ever lives within. He came at Christmas time back then to live His Perfect Life o'er Sin, defeat the cross to victory win to ever Christmas know. by Jay O’Toole on December 13th, 2021 |
The strings of all the galaxies are threads by which He makes the Universe of Will, that frees from hopelessness, that shakes. How doth He make each man of Earth, each woman, child so blest? How doth He call from that first birth to birth, that passeth test? The razor's edge, that He must walk, to make a soul, that lives is not a line, that aught can chalk, but He, that true life gives. He knows my name. He knows my birth. He knows my ev'ry breath. He knows my farthest decimal's worth. He knows my day of death. But even so my day of Life He knows forevermore. He knows to keep my dearest, wife, for Child, I Him implore. I have no strength the Lasting Day will be my loves' own Home, but He that spoke the Word will say, and for their saving come. Each human breath, each beat of heart, sustained by His Great Hand. Each proffered Help from Earth's own start is by His Loving Plan. by Jay O’Toole on December 10th, 2021 |
Christmas hymns and carols, too, can fill each wintry night with praise and worship, heartfelt true, attending stars so bright. Fill, Lungs, with breath, and lift great worth to Jesus, He, Who died, and rose, again, in lasting Birth from stable birth applied. Now, sing we gifts from hearts of flesh to the Son, Who's God and Man. He laid on hay within the creche by God's eternal Plan. I know no song, that's better fit to praise His saving Gift than Christmas carols, hymns so writ the heart to daily lift. The Silent, ever Holy Night is Still, and Still, and Still. Eternity is ever right to suit His lasting Will. by Jay O’Toole on December 9th, 2021 |
Darkness hides. Colors shining abide, Goodly soldiers shine their colors strong. Angel forces stand their ground, proclaim their glad song to show the good is everlasting o'er the wrong. Candles join to make the wonders bright. Naught is lost. He sets right Nights of Lights. by Jay O’Toole on December 8th, 2021 |
Merry Christmas, Santa Claus. Do you need a gift? So much to do before one pause. Your heart must need a lift. We thank you for your annual trip to bring our hearts great joy. We pray our hope from life and lip new strength to you employs. Dear Santa, you're a wondrous friend to all, who know you work. Your smile and laughter daily mend our lives from hearth to kirk. Merry Christmas, Père Noël. Each year is shadow's shroud All works in silence bless and tell of one, who shuns the crowd. We thank you for the needs you meet without a spotlight's beam. The Lord be all your thanks and greet you in your greatest dreams. by Jay O’Toole on December 7th, 2021 |
The days of Earth are out-of-phase. We look ahead to joy, but when our Joy doth reach its days some new thing knows employ. Great happy Christmas starts to show in June of ev'ry year, but when its berth is near to know the shopping's no more here. The springtime wares adorn the shelf 'mid Santa's Ho, Ho, Ho's. You'd think there'd be some lasting elf, but vanished Christmas grows. The constancy I daily seek is found in Christmas hymns, that stay with me through months of weeks when mem'ries fade and dim. The Joys of Christmas flash the pan when next things come so fast, but everlasting is his Plan for Joy is never past. by Jay O’Toole on December 6th, 2021 |
| Azul tasted the musty air of the long hallway of her clapboard farmhouse home as she headed toward the front door and freedom for the rest of the day. Chores were done. No more beds to make. No more clothes to fold. No more dust clouds to sweep into action on this Saturday afternoon in August, that was weeks past the last good gully-washer, which had made her and her brothers look like red clay monsters as they lined up for their Saturday night baths. The sun caressed her skin as her fertile mind embraced freedom mere steps from the front door. The cool pond water will be such a relief, she thought. It's been in the 90s for days. Peaceful reverie caused the door to virtually float open as she took her first step out into the Joy of an untethered middle of her glorious Saturday afternoon. SMACK! The red clay rock clod whizzed past her head, exploding on the door jamb, pelting her with crusty little red pebbles all over her sweaty white T-shirt. Startled, Azul tucked and rolled to her left, finding safety behind the old rocking chair. She didn't have to think. Her body knew what to do. Living with four older brothers had taught her to be resourceful in her self-preservation. Peeking out from behind the rocker, Azul wondered, Who's out there? Where are they? Will I ever get a few minutes' peace? 12-years-old in a war zone or brothers, who love to play pranks. It's about the same. "There she is! Get her!" Joel, her oldest brother jumped out from behind the China Berry Tree. Whizz, whizz, whizz. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Three more red clods continued the transformation into the Monster from the Clay Gully. "Leave me alone!" she screamed. "I just want to go to the pond." "That'll be the day," Merv smirked, jumping out from the left side of the wrap-around porch. "Not if I sit on you, and fart in your face." More red clods breezed past her, but none of these landed near her. Second oldest, but couldn't hit the broad side of a barn, she chuckled, being very careful to let none of that slip out of her lips. She squirted past him by crawling under the row of rocking chairs. He was older and bulkier, but she was younger, smaller, and weasel-like. His right hand slapped at her torso, but she landed her two hands on the porch railing on that left side of the house, swinging her body up and over, flying, landing, rolling, and running through the side yard before her brothers could recover, giving chase. Her two youngest brothers were twins, and just a couple of years older than Azul. Mack and Dodge were cagey, hiding in the lofts on either side of the door as she retreated to her place of safety, the barn. She nearly fell through the barndoor, but she caught herself, bending double with her hands on her knees to catch her breath. That's when she realized her mistake as two bucketsful of clay water soaked her from both sides. By this time she was pissed. "Mack & Dodge, you better hope I don't catch you, or I'll tear you limb from limb." "Ooooo, we're frightened, you sissy little girl," they taunted. She was up the ladder before Dodge knew what hit him as she landed a little sister belly flop hug on him, slapping at his face in a blur. "Off me, ya dang kid!" "Muggy water doesn't feel good when it's you, does it?" she snapped at him. By this time, Mack had joined the scene of the slime, getting just as muddy, hay-hairy, and itchy as the other two, trying to drag the fireball of a baby sister off his twin brother, whose nose was already quite bloody by now. The twins weren't that much bigger than Azul, but seeing the two older brothers run through the barndoor, she left off sliming the twins and headed for the window in the loft, flinging herself out into the elm tree, shimmying down to the safety of the ground. Once on terra firma she headed to the China Berry Tree, where she loaded the front of her shirttail with China berries, and headed back to the barn to unload her arsenal. This painted all of her brothers' faces with terror because Azul was a sure-shot with these spiked balls. Her right arm became a circular blur, hitting brothers in the head, chest, arms, and legs. "STOP! STOP! STOP it, you idiot! That hurts!" they all screamed in near unison. "Good. That's what I meant to do," she snarled as she chased them out of the barn. Engaging the water hose, she covered the opening with her thumb, chasing them with the water for quite a distance. "Sis, you're crazy! Why can't you take a little teasing?" The boys slogged across the porch, and through the front door, bolting it behind with a loud, "SCHLOCK!" "You can dish it out, but you can't take it," she yelled in her smugness as she strolled down the driveway to the pond. Serves 'em right, she thought. I'm smaller, but I'm not helpless. I guess peace comes after you show 'em, who's boss.. A broader smile has never coursed across a little sister's face. "I guess I'll just swim in these clothes," she said to no one in particular. "After all, I've got to wash out the Georgia red clay." by Jay O’Toole on October 9th, 2021 |
These days may seem a gift to be when Time shall be no more. The pain we felt we'll fully see as the sanctifying door. Each mother has a painful time to birth her valued child. The warmth she feels is so sublime no memory e'er is filed. The Face of Christ one Day we'll know as Time fades with a breath. The Word of God we daily sow brings life beyond all death. This life is mixed with good and bad. Our hearts may often sigh, but Hope can make our hearts feel glad, until the By and By. by Jay O’Toole on September 30th, 2021 |
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