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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)    |
| There was a great need for a kitty, whose meows were first wise, and then witty. The first part of the set was to roll o'er, and pet 'fore getting self clawed just a bitty. by Jay O’Toole on March 21st, 2025   |
When the words are slow to come, and thoughts don't easily jell, we're tempted to enthrone the sum as "nothing left to tell." But all this means, I firmly feel is "life has been a load." When rough-made waters fight the keel, find harbor and abode. The heart digs in. "Just strongly move to force the body, 'Go!'" The body yelps to "Reigns remove, and more compassion show." The currents pummel ev'ry keel, then shore we must the wood, returning hope to worthy weel, rerighting life that's good. Let's help the keel each wayworn barque doth need to sail as true. The given help, the needed spark, then travel is in view. by Jay O’Toole on March 20th, 2025 |
day shines through the trees silhouetting soldiers stand ‘fore the night’s advance by Jay O’Toole on March 19th, 2025 |
Beauteous sun through the winderful panes. Thus tipping a pun with these cheeky new gains. I can not deny the beautiful sight, that makes of this moment a feeling so right. Of coffee and books here is wonderful rest. An hour's respite from each day's often test will bring hope to the heart as we sit and reflect. List to The Lord for His Peace as each fear we reject. The beauteous sun with coffee and books. Some time to reflect, some time with just looks, how gentle the day in wonderful rest. Eternally with Christ, the Lord, will be blest. by Jay O’Toole on March 18th, 2025 |
| Let's give a cheer for the ones with no fear, or the ones, who know fear, and march on! The cheer, that is dear with its purpose so clear is of Johnny, and each native son. The ladies, who serve in this cheer do deserve all the best for they give their all, too. Her arm flexes with verve, showing all of the nerve of the men when the battle is through. Ev'ry cheer, that we grace 'bout their hardest of place brings great love from the heart of our hearts. Ev'ry shoe's latchet laced t'ward the onslaught to brace is a gift made to hold the ramparts. So, three cheers for our vets ev'ry effort now lets each man, woman, child have a home. Ev'ry forehead of sweat brings the sweetest sunset, being safe so we need not to roam. When Th'Eternal Day comes, with the best of their sums for their fight has not been all for naught. Side-by-side with their chums, digging in with their drums the blest Truth has been lived, and us taught. Ev'ry Johnny and Jane in the sun and the rain fought until there was naught left to give. Through each day it was plain ev'ry foot they would gain was a gift for their fam'lies to live. Honored Vet, we now stand with a heart-covered hand to say, "Thank you for all that you've done! Forever the band in the field or grandstand will play Stars and Stripes for all you've done." by Jay O’Toole on March 17th, 2025 |
'Neath the fan, near window bottles, resting 'fore the winds arrive. What may come with plans it scuttles. Mystery of how we'll thrive. Forecast of the 'nadoes twisting. Will we know, and shelter find? Dryest winds or rainclouds misting, ties of love forever bind. Hard the winter, soon the springing, what of God's unending Truth? Will the angels come a-singing, making old man lasting youth? by Jay O’Toole on March 14th, 2025 |
The Keurig machine has lost its pizzazz. It makes no coffee now. I need caffeine and all that jazz, but sit I wondering, "How?" So, beg we have the daughter's pot from beans to grounds to perc. The hopeful cup we'll give it a shot. No work day shall we shirk. 'Twould be a shame to call the boss, "I cannot give thee aid. My work tonight must weakly toss, since coffee can't be made." Yet, she would surely bid me come. "Now hie, Thee, to the room of break. Pray, fill thy cup, and drink thee some. Thy foolishness I can't more take!" How did we live on Earth below, before the brownish bean? My need to percolate, I trow doth cause me ne'er to wean. Our Lilli of the south, south, land, so far her queenish ways. To help us now's not quickly planned. The drive doth cause dismay. Cool Beanz is our restorer sweet. The macchiato made now brightens eyes through this warm treat, and Sick Day hath been stayed. by Jay O’Toole on March 13th, 2025 |
| As rabbit white in days of yore, I chase the deadline post. The clock keeps piling more and more, until the mind is toast. "The hurrier I go the behinder I get," quoth the hare of harried heart. Thus Lewis Carroll laid his bet, where commonalities often start. "So much to do, so little time" exists the human plight. That daily need I the gift of rhyme, expressing what I might. How doth the case of lost men reel from side to side at best? How doth he Eternity find by feel through ev'ry earthly test? If hurry I go, through searches many, will I be saved at last? I would not bet the horse's whinny, but my soul on Christ to cast. by Jay O’Toole on March 12th, 2025 |
| The landscape of a concrete floor, forests of shelves, caves with porcelain streams and ponds, require the skills of spelunkers, bearing tools. At times noxious sulfur froths the water, staggering the mind. Plastic pick-ax in hand, the barnacles are dispatched by diverting the stream to rinse the pond. Bloated icons fill with paper, and myriad containers of things once useful, until the balloons are extracted, then piled in insipid layers as I am disposed for disposing in final dispatch. As wanes the evening's light, the haggard Q.A. finds repose in his trusty steed, gentle of engine, while being soft on the heart. The good day's work is done. by Jay O’Toole on March 11th, 2025 |
About the time we settle in to what our life is like, we change the clock. Begin again, and try our minds to psych. So many years before, it seems a warming trend in Spring has followed the change to newer teams of morning clocks, that ring. It's darker now when most get up, but later for the set of sun beyond our evening sup, before we go to bed. But does Time really change, my friend? The sun in smirking tones doth look upon these souls, who tend the clock. He chuckles, groans. Each body simply feels the mess of Time Zones leaping forward. Please, help us, Father, survive the test, remembering Who's Lord. by Jay O’Toole on March 10th, 2025 |
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Oh, and are your writing about our WdC 
Thanks for the entertaining poem. Well done! 
