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We live much of life amid unique choices. Joy is anchored in The One beyond our life. |
"Failures, repeated failures, are finger posts on the road to achievement. One fails forward toward success." C. S. Lewis "I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else." C. S. Lewis “I have come home at last! This is my real country! I belong here. This is the land I have been looking for all my life, though I never knew it till now... Come further up, come further in!” ― C.S. Lewis, The Last Battle https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/1059917-the-last-battle “The Road goes ever on and on Down from the door where it began. Now far ahead the Road has gone, And I must follow, if I can, Pursuing it with eager feet, Until it joins some larger way Where many paths and errands meet. And whither then? I cannot say.” J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.” J.R.R. Tolkien |
A quiet corner holds my crafts to do in peace, to while away, exploring thoughts, enjoying laughs, a place to live my life, today. A quiet corner knitting yarns to make a scarf or tell a tale. At other times a musty barn perfumed by hay in many bales. A quiet corner all alone when man and beast do other things. The crafts I've made, the times I've known help my own heart to softly sing. A quiet corner helps on days when life may weigh, and press me down. To know I'm gifted in these ways can crack a smile to change a frown. A quiet corner, where the wing of He, Who died and rose, again, can shelter me to safely bring the Hope of Grace, now free from sin. (Psalm 91:1-4; Romans 8:1) by Jay O’Toole on May 31st, 2023 |
But some days sadness overwhelms as sit we 'neath the massive elm to ponder who is at the helm of this small earthly life. When days don't go as I could wish. It's mostly fine, but mostly ish. His scrubbing still would clean my dish, but inside there's just strife. Will ever there be days ahead when thoughts are heard, and thoughts are read? Will hopefulness speak joy instead when pain is fully gone? Will God be pleased to talents show? Will others clean, and take trash now? Will goals of life I fully know when The Son of Morning dawns? This overwhelming sadness bleeds from childhood hurts, and pains, and deeds. Will victory soon come o'er needs, or must I feel some more? I'm working through with a counselor friend the things I feel in hopes to mend. The child I was my heart must tend. His crying thoughts outpour. Though overwhelmed in human heart the God of Grace will never part. He's by my side from life's first start, no "smoldering flax" ignores. (Isaiah 42:3,KJV) by Jay O’Toole on May 30th, 2023 |
Has God removed His Presence, fair, when aught but silence fills the air? Does God stop holding all toge'er when we can't see Him move? Is blessed day forever dark when God seems gone and makes no mark? No lighthouse seen by tossing barque can hopeful light yet prove. Will God be always far from those, His children loved, so freely chose? Will He not help as suff'ring grows within each lo-ved heart? The pain He lets is for our good, apart from mental hopes or mood, that thoughts of Him be ne'ermore skewed when in The Day we start. God is right here His Word declares. He holds each child when in our cares. He marks each breath, and numbers hairs. We're ne'er from Him apart. by Jay O’Toole on May 29th, 2023 |
One wonders 'bout the great career I'd have while serving Santa Claus, the joy of being through the year a partner in his wondrous cause. Right now the summer's coming fast throughout the land with greater heat, but could some days more gentle last up north with sunshine on repeat? The land of midnight's lasting sun without the snow to make it white could be a place of certain fun, where darkness barely touches night. But still, the animals are fed, the meals are cooked, and buildings cleaned. The visitors are met and led, where Santa's many tasks convene. Throughout the year are many nights with Santa Claus in joyful thought. He needs not fly through Northern Lights, but reindeer groom and elves be taught. If I should work with this great man, I could be a janitor withal. I could muck stall all day by plan. I could bring coffee when He calls, But there would be so many things to fill the days and nights with joy. The mundane tasks are blessed as sings each person, that he would employ. The days of summer soon give way to cooler temps and snows, that come. Then rushing through each blest display, we'll know sweet Christmas in the sum. by Jay O’Toole on May 26th, 2023 |
Beautiful the color floats through the air, and to our eyes. Sweetest sounds these color notes greet us daily, growing in size. Begonia reds make bright the day. Smiling hearts can dance around. Caladiums, their handy way growing arrow straight to aye abound. Hostas, ferns, and greenest grass bring green the honor it deserves. Daily showers drop and pass, bringing life to the plants it serves. by Jay O’Toole on May 25th, 2023 |
A gentle day of coolish air, and breezes just a bit, reminds me of The Lord so fair, Who calls me with Him sit. Begonias swaying back and forth, and pansies, still alive bring hope, today, for all they're worth, and peace to in Him thrive. A gentle day doth give us rest for other days ahead when we may face some earthly test as challenges are bred. The Lord is why we live and breathe with lasting peace for Aye. Salvation's Gift may 'round us wreathe, if we receive it, today. by Jay O’Toole on May 24th, 2023 |
spring remains a bit summer soon will come to us then we'll wish for spring by Jay O’Toole on May 23rd, 2023 |
That humans write the things they feel historically is true. Can artificial thoughts be real computing what they do? I have no doubt computer writ will flawless be withal, but can the writings it submits yet feel the human call? And if we're bested by the brain, that has no human heart, is there a hope, that we can gain some value, ne'er to part? The perfect beauty seems quite good from bits, and bites at work, but these can never know the mood expressed by the writer's quirks. I've heard piano pieces done as nearly perfect rote, but I left the concert hall with none to write about nor quote. With imperfections, we relate as true in human bent. Perfections are not quite as great from human hands be lent. Perfection is Divine purview, and there it must remain, forever, though our lives when through, will better skills then gain. by Jay O’Toole on May 22nd, 2023 |
How many souls can live life large to be of the world, renowned? How many of us live our charge, and by the few be found? To look upon our own life's song, we hear notes out-of-tune. To measure all the good and wrong, so many things we'd prune. Our vision is so narrow, small. We harshly judge our day. We tend to see no good at all in our own limited display. But God would have us be as kind to Self as other folks for Self is often terribly blind, and at the mirror jokes. "The Lord sees not as humans see for man sees just the face. The Lord looks on the heart to free, and show His matchless grace." (I Samuel 16:7, KJV) Can we in kindness see our lives, though small as being great? Can we wait 'til the Lord arrives to judge our life's lone plate? For something small as the life each lives is great when He's in charge. Salvation in Christ freely gives us life to live so large. by Jay O’Toole on May 19th, 2023 |