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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)    |
Paul lost his sight before his way was shown. The rest of his life for his writing was known. Christ's Church through his writings, now greatly has grown, but once he was selfish old Saul. Patrick lived a bondage day, a slave in Ireland, so they say, until God changed his heart and way. his Lord of life-giving call. In Freedom miles and years then changed. The days he walked God rearranged. He taught of Christ, Who sins exchanged for a life of lasting bliss. He helped his Irish friends receive New Life in Christ, His Word believe. Their hearts be knit to Him and cleave, Success defined as this. We all have days, that seem as loss. The good we do can't mount the cost. We wonder at our heavy cross. Can God be pleased with us? But He, Who weaves the tapestry will bring success His child to free, and when He's through full liberty will banish night and dusk. Success He gives to all, who hear Salvation's Call within heart's ear. These days of life are ever clear in Time and evermore. Our "Yes!" today receives His Gift the defeat of His cross He used to lift the blame of Sin on Him to shift for He is God's Great door. (John 3:16; Romans 10:9-10,13) by Jay O'Toole on March 17th, 2021 |
life and death alike summer, fall, winter, and spring plants all flourish well by Jay O'Toole on March 16th, 2021 |
variety spice lemon-lime nandina bush added joy to group by Jay O'Toole on March 15th, 2021 |
Giving plants a lovely home can fill the heart with joy. Finding space, no more to roam, relationship's employ. Nandinas make my heart to sing. Diminutive bamboo, clumping bush red berries bring, and wondrous aspect, too. Rosemary is a pleasant herb, that makes a goodly bush. Its aromatic sweet as a verb, a dancing nose will push. Mexican heather is summer hardy in heat and humidity. The purple blooms look like a party on wood and green, we see. And when we finish tucking in these "children" in their beds, we give a drink, a watering in, and good words as we are led. by Jay O'Toole on March 12th, 2021 |
earth has some relief not as cold, the world can rest hopeful plants return by Jay O'Toole on March 11th, 2021 |
sun makes its return plants come out to dance and play hope restored in life. by Jay O'Toole on March 10th, 2021 |
Driving down Life's interstate. I need to stop and rest at times. The tiredness can become quite great. As the driver's seat constricts, confines. My thoughts become so flushing full. I need relief, a place to pause. Some grace, relieving nature's pull. Some grass to walk, and chew that clause. The scenery, no more a blur, I open the door to stretch as I stand. To contemplate, my steps are sure. The road can wait. I make a plan. The Welcome Center is a start as stroll I by brochures, and clear my mind from driving's rushing part, and gently thoughts, so new, I steer. The writing rises in my heart. Some canvases with landscapes rare. I sit and write on a pad to start a treatment, taking readers there. Some minutes pass, an hour, more with whizzing cars, my background noise. The wrens and finches dance before my joyful heart. Their bliss applies. With deepest breath released, I go. The mind refreshed, the heart now full. Return I to the life I know, now blessed because of Heaven's pull. by Jay O'Toole on March 9th, 2021 |
The eagle's nest above the fray hath treasured hope for kith and kin. To the heights, the eagle mounts the day, and safely keeps its young to win. The tropic gale of hurricane force it boasts itself of feathered demise to shred the nest on its furious course. No reason but its surly prize. Will rocky crags prevent the gale? Will eagle's nest and young ones live? Will gallant bird in final fail be nearer extinction than to thrive? The days of past in victor's pride the eagle weathered torrent's blast, but now the violent water's belied the menace, that could breach its mast. "Be strong, O Eagle, beak now chipped of rock, that flew by gale's worst pitch. We have great hope thy case be flipped by the sun, that makes the storm not so rich." The eagle fights though pummelled sore by arrogant winds, that seek its death. Secures his young ones long before he lights and draws his final breath. The eagle's strength is the greatest match for the maelstrom's breath and its evil mind. Defeat may try in vain to attach to the eagle eyes to make it blind. At the end of the day, it will dispatch its living presence, none can bind. by Jay O'Toole on March 8th, 2021 |
To see the world with eyes so fresh and new, I look upon my life in late-day rest and take great pains to find through panes a view, not just of sunlight, but of thoughts quite blest. The car and mower sit on concrete still. Our yard tools stand erect and ready now. Mimosa waits for leaves and blooms to fill its growing stature for each weeping bow. The latticework between the sections lifts the drying rug of cheery colors sweet. The daughter dancing 'round in wondrous gifts makes ready for the play performance meets. Though smudges may bedim this life I see, imagination clears, and sights do free. by Jay O'Toole on March 5th, 2021 |
Aye. Waiting. Forever. Sunshine hopeful, removing ev'ry darkness work from me. Hope is waiting on the Lord to save me from the villains. Hell denied. Heaven sent. by Jay O'Toole on March 4th, 2021 |
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