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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)    |
We walk along this pilgrim way, doing the best we can, unknowing all we do and say are known by just One Man. "Just do your best, and if your good is better than your bad, you'll taste of Heaven's blessed food, like your mother and your dad." These sorts of things philosophize the earthly wise of heart, but when we see our truest size, where Truth finds truest start, we know we need the Help He gives for our help is of naught. Salvation in Him only lives. From a child, the Word is taught. We try and try, and try again. Ourselves, we cannot save. The Hope, that Christ Alone did win, won victory o'er the grave. Each spirit - man on the pilgrim way is dead upon the ground. The hope we'd know can start today by the EMT unbound. Regeneration's joules make live the heart, that once was lost from the "silver pads" The Word doth give. He covers all the cost. No man can make alive his soul. The gift of faith we need. Yet, 'til the monergistic goal in sin we still do bleed. How do we simplify this Truth, that Jesus, Savior, Lord, Alone can make a lasting youth, that's founded on His Word? We read the Truth, that's written there. He changes "stone, cold hearts," and makes alive to feel our care, and trust as faith imparts. by Jay O’Toole on January 17th, 2025   |
To cough, and cough, and cough, again is really not so fun. The body knows not how to win, nor when the pain is done. The temps have been so very cold throughout this month, that's new. Not every moment, that's been told, with warm ones, just a few. They say, "The cold can't give a cold," but in these freezing days a bad thing walks about so bold, and health it oft dismays. To wash the self, and don new clothes is challenging at best. Perspiring makes quite smelly those. Thus, life is quite a test. "Just get some rest, while fluids drink," is the advice we oft receive. These sickness days are not a blink. Lost work we can't retrieve. "The next cold spate should bring some snow," doth weathermen profess, but more of coughing? I don't know. When will the weather bless? So, stay, thee, well, while layering coats, some blankets, serapes these, and blog some more of better notes. Fight cold with Vita-Cs. by Jay O’Toole on January 16th, 2025 |
Abiding chilly, new the year, warm the twinkle lights, Christmas joys are coming clear, quiet, gentle sights. Oolong tea, its wondrous taste, has made the night a gift. Waiting moments, fully graced the heart, that now be lift. Bygone days to bygone years, memories renew. Some great Day no more will fears still bother me or you. Jingle bells of man or beast, they ring the Christmas mind. Season's tastes to munch or feast. What treats we often find! The hurry-ness this Christmas gone we settle now to rest. The hope of Joy, it's peaceful bond will leave all hearts most blest. by Jay O’Toole on January 15th, 2025 |
The time of day when day is done brings hope of needed rest. A cup of tea or more than one brings warmth to a waiting chest. Light blue sky, clouds, dusty and white float towards horizon's line. The darkness of the growing night calls to a kettle fine. As chilly digits seek to type chilly tendrils of cold enfold the throat 'til the kettle's ripe to Earl Grey tea once told. And when the jaunty peal declares, "Prepare thy drink post haste," the blessing of thy sipping affairs is a matter of great taste. by Jay O’Toole on January 14th, 2025 |
Forming like a cap of ice across the wintry sky, the clouds are grayish white with twice the cover to apply. The cap 'twill seal with darkness soon as icy fingers coil, around the land as absent moon sends workers home from toil. These trees are capped by cotton clouds, a dusty, dirty mash with bluish tint of nighttime shroud, in whispered winds, a dash. by Jay O’Toole on January 13th, 2025 |
Overcast, the winter sky with snow upon the trees. Not yet, but soon we can't deny the weather, that it sees. Cotton candy clouds all float with moisture on the wing, like a sky-high cruising boat, lifting hearts to sing. Gray the cast of daylight glows, causing us to guess. Will our yard stay what we know? Will from snow we nest? The wind is moving the clouds around as safely warm within. We layer clothes as quilts abound, while outside warmth grows thin. The Lord controls the winter sky. He sees each earthbound heart. With mercy and compassion nigh, He knows just where to start. by Jay O’Toole on January 10th, 2025 |
| Not normal. The Cold shuts down limbs, that move. Quilts are where we all live. Thoughts are like our ice. Wake us when warm. Summer Joy! Writing slows. Please, help poet do brain things. Lines without rhymes is good. Rhythm's lost its beat. Word finding hard. Sleepy time. First month's sad. Still we drive when not cold rain. We work in spurts outside. Inside, run to change the clothes real quick. Cold not fun. by Jay O’Toole on January 9th, 2025 |
The great-grandpa, who fought and died, left a bunch of sons to maw, but one adopted left her side to call an old salt, his paw. 'Twas after the US Civil War, a bachelor, sailor, he, adopted my direct ancestor to lighten the life for she. A Haselton, he was at sea, and Haselton, he on land. My great a Haselton came to be, down to this poet man. Before the Civil War the name was Currier, you see now four new generations we came, to daughter, now of me. My daughter on a pirate ship, 'twas on a college stage, an actor, as we come to grips, full-circle comes the page. The Civil War, it took a life, adoption gave a name. On Earth, we deal with war and strife, in Heaven ever tame. On land, they fought as kith and kin, on sea, the name was new. The gift of love, its blessings win when living days are through. Lines: 28 by Jay O’Toole on January 8th, 2025 |
Some days ahead are still unknown. Today is cold and bright. Tomorrow won't be fully grown, until God makes it right. Some days ahead will warmer be, but now it's frigid bold. Some tasks around my yard I see, but not while it's so cold. Some days ahead retirement comes, but what will life be then? So much of life in lasting sums is measured by what's been. Some days ahead, Forevermore will be as God doth choose. For those redeemed the best's in store. There's none of them He'll lose. Some days ahead we'll see The Son, Who shines in boldest Light. The goodness of this lasting One will banish all the night. by Jay O’Toole on January 7th, 2025 |
Key Verses: "He giveth snow like wool: he scattereth the hoarfrost like ashes. He casteth forth his ice like morsels: who can stand before his cold?" (Psalm 147:16-17, KJV) -------------------------------------------------------------------- The cold doth come. No man can stand. Who can it ever stop? The frigid temps are never banned. The Lord is on the top! "He giveth snow like whitest wool. He scattereth frosty ash. He casteth ice more cold than cool. Who stands 'fore Him at last?" The work must needs continue thus, yet chilled the hands may be. Please, save from cold for in Thy Trust my hope shall ever be. The vortex hath now shown its power. More strength it may have soon. Please, in the depth of coldest hour make warmth from Thee our boon. by Jay O’Toole on January 6th, 2025 |
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