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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)    |
Threaded crafts are joys to make, but still there's quite a catch. each knot can concentration break as thread friends others snatch. Each thread is not so smooth it seems, but outgrabing threadlet hands. To touch another threadlet deems, "'Tis time to start new bands." But "whence thee knots where I would not." Nonsentient threads cause ire. "I had a plan, but now forgot as minutes cost is higher." So, stop, untie this naughty knot to finish what I would. Through gentleness, the craft is bought to look as always should. 'Tis better that we not lose our cool, but tease the unwanted knot. When experienced skills have been to school, we're amazed at what we've got. by Jay O’Toole on September 9th, 2025   |
| Have you yet met the evangelist, who convinces you of your need? With a logic that is clearly expressed as more than just a creed, he invites you to be ever blest by trust, that's not a deed. Just pray this prayer as from the heart, "Dear Lord, I know I'm lost. I can't save me, not from the start. I can't pay sin's deep cost, but Jesus died and rose to impart new life to ne'er be lost." Am I now saved? Did I believe it best? What do I do with doubt? Is this my faith to survive each test? Can I turn my life about? Or did God help my heart to rest? Can I now truly shout? How can I know that God has worked to make me lastingly new? How can it be that change has come to save me in this way? Did I do anything of myself or is this birth He gives? When the Lord does work, affections change. The heart is newly tender. The Christian loves the Lord as couldn't, before his rock-hard heart was removed. This birthing is mysterious. Self cannot work at all for when the soul is truly His before the Lord we must fall. by Jay O’Toole on September 8th, 2025 |
| The simple Gospel of Jesus Christ, so easy to tell, but oft so hard to believe. His death on the cross to pay the price so freely given the burden of sin to relieve. He was buried fast, until day three when none could keep this God-Man in the grave. His Victory, each saint would free, that nevermore could we be kept a slave. His perfect life and sins atoned. The dead alive by new birth at His Hand. the tender heart that once was stone made saved by His Own Choice, and through His Plan. "May I yet breathe?" "When God gives breath." The invitation at the Lord's behest. The hope of life, no fear of death, and some day soon at the Marriage Supper,...Guest. by Jay O’Toole on September 7th, 2025 |
| Melting heat and bitter cold, extremes of weathered days. Who with His Finger toucheth bold these weather-worn displays. A warning of The Greatest Mind or merely chance unknown? A call from The Savior ever kind or a wasted day just thrown? Unusual snow of nine months past with more, that may come soon? The triple-digit days that last with pavement egg fried boon? The Lord of the eternal Day taps on our window glass with snows of whitest, cold display or sun's great furnace blast. Will heed we warnings in extremes or walk quite merrily on? The glint of Judgment fairly gleams from the Face of God's Own Son. by Jay O’Toole on September 6th, 2025 |
| What is belief? How can we know we're in without a doubt? How can the life within us grow, until our faith is stout? Can we eat out until we rest upon the goodwill of man? Is the food quite safe? Will we be blest? Doth their reputation stand? We eat oft by the word of mouth, that the food for mouth is good. Yet, rest we in The Word's redoubt, securely as we should? Great saints of old have questioned much about the Truth once giv'n. Eternity's most lasting touch means Hell or better Heav'n. They knew the terror of the Lord. One life so soon is past. The needed slab of God's Own Word secured the Hope that lasts. Believe we in the facts on a page, or believe One, Who is Truth? If Life's last breath will not engage, what purpose we from our youth? Believe we bridge o'er torrent's roil, while standing on the land? Believe we faith it ne'er will foil a-crossing sturdy span? by Jay O’Toole on September 5th, 2025 |
Miss Dianne, friend, it has a pleasure been to serve you in this way. The cleaning and the trash attend as a consistent night QA. Soon your day of birth will newly show your worth. One more year you'll older be. When you pass it through, and then sally forth, you're still quite young to me. With our sustenance, we live not by chance, but daily bread and water. Your nightly job is seen at a glance. You stock these most as you oughter. When I retire, 'tis your new hire will hear your words quite often, "Just leave the trash! It's not that dire! Tomorrow, it'll be gotten!" Enjoy your days of cake and praise, and rest you for the week of work so much the eyes do glaze when QA Stan you'll seek. He'll be around on common ground, but no more Saturday nights. Another on these floors now found will clean and keep it bright. Enjoy your birthday! You're not old. More years until you're 50! Retirement soon has made me bold. Dear Friend, you're really nifty!  by Jay O’Toole on September 4th, 2025 |
How wondrous rare, that this fine day would be remembrance of that best dared start back when. Great writers, all, of kith and kin we see such blessed years as writers' values win. March on we do through dry and arid lands of wordless days when no new thoughts dare come. Committed to these write-determined plans e'er doubts destroy each page's lofty sum. Such gold is mined through veins of hidden worth, 'til chiseled, smelted, finally made pure the novel finds its lasting, blessed birth amid the tomes of old on shelves quite sure. Through tests in life, each writer's cobbled way shows given talents, things He'd have us say. by Jay O’Toole on September 3rd, 2025 |
darkness fills the land quiet breezes flank the night misty morning comes by Jay O’Toole on September 2nd, 2025 |
So much to do, so little time, all the poems I could write are quite the same, and that's the plight. How can I change as might? To speak of thee in a Shakespearean tone would harken to times past, but whence could be this poet's throne trained with such a flowery task? By the Seuss in a play of great things I could speak, 'twould be hopeful, but not serious at all. "The fleiderbub snarled as 'lephant..." surely reeks, but playing with words has its call. We play with our food when we're learning to eat. We must play with our words to express, that when in this world other souls we do greet, they'd find writing this fun just to bless. by Jay O’Toole on September 1st, 2025 |
A Happy Birthday wish is here. Today is YES the day! So much to do and see, it's clear, "It's a joyful week!" we say. How blest the early bird's wondrous dance. His joy can't be contained. A quarter-century's not by chance. These wonders all maintained. These twenty-five years are the sweetest gift to all who write right here. Come, one! Come, all! Your voices lift. The celebration cheer! So much to do. I hope I can participate enough. At least my schedule has that plan, that days so full may stuff. So Happy Birthday! Thanks to you, Good Story Master, sir! The Story Mistress ‘fore we’re through creative Merit Badges by her. by Jay O’Toole on August 31st, 2025 |
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