We live much of life amid unique choices. Joy is anchored in The One beyond our life. |
|
“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) |
To think I must. Believe is my design. My mind hath much to trust of fellowman. Believe I must, that eating out is fine or fear will stop my ev'ry waking plan. To think I must. Believe is how I breathe. Believe, I do, that gravity is true. I walk outside with naught, that doth deceive. Still on the ground I am when walk is through. To think I must. Believe still weaves my soul. Each thing I do requires my lasting trust. When Life is o'er, belief will keep me whole. I trust His Merits, Who hath made me just. To think believe the Merits of the Truth. I have believed Him, since my very youth. by Jay O’Toole on January 22nd, 2026 ![]() ![]() |
The future is a tricky thing to guess. We think we know where market value goes, but what of weather, that can curse or bless? When Future's Now what are the lasting woes? The future of our days upon the Earth seem tentative from many'a factored cause. The breaths we take for decades from our birth behoove us that in sober thought we pause. The future of our lasting lives for aye doth cause us painful look at truths we hold. Some live for just the feelings of today. What do we do wi'the Gospel Gift so told? This life is short. Eternity is long. Will living there be doleful or a song? by Jay O’Toole on January 21st, 2026 ![]() ![]() |
| The Christmas rush is fin'lly o'er. All weary snore. The denouement without flaw. The after Christmas storm it comes What danger sums? So, will there be 'lectricity? Will Christmas Sunday come this soon? A gentle tune, a piping cup with fam'ly sup. by Jay O’Toole on January 20th, 2026 ![]() ![]() |
| The Christmas rush is fin'lly o'er. All weary snore. The denouement without flaw. The after Christmas storm it comes What danger sums? So, will there be 'lectricity? Will Christmas Sunday come this soon? A gentle tune, a piping cup with fam'ly sup. by Jay O’Toole on January 20th, 2026 ![]() ![]() |
| Sometimes new is not very easy. Things to do, and ways to do are not known. Finding help from others busy causes frustration to them and me. "You should know it already." "But I don't. Please, guide me." Silence. Crickets. All humans seem overwhelmed. Too much newness. Too much gotta. Too much right now! One day the One, Who is Wise will set all things right, and then we will "know, even as we are also known." (I Corinthians 13:12c) Jay O'Toole |
This world's so full of loves and likes, and skills where opposites are needed. 'Tis Wisdom's years and youth with bikes, that make most tasks fully completed. "I'm just a free spirit. I don't like rules." "I like my structure. Sameness matters." Opposing ways, or needed tools? Must eat we steak without some platters? "Free Spirit, where will you place your art? Upon a canvas? Or thrown on the floor?" "And, Structured Soul, where will you start with walls complete, and roof, and door?" This world's so full of cities, souls, mountains, plains, and islands, oceans. We need each one to keep us whole as rough skin needs its oils and lotions. A house is drab without its paint, and art is naught without its canvas. A sinner only becomes saint when the Gospel saves to give us laughter. by Jay O’Toole on January 18th, 2026 ![]() ![]() |
| My novels are great works of art. At least they're great in my mind. I see the action clearly in my mind, but I'm not sure anybody else can. My wife tells me, that my conversations in these novels seem to be something akin to "stiff, boxy, and unnatural." I've completed six NaNoWriMo rough drafts, and now one Novel-Writing Month on WDC rough drafts. I consistently edit for spelling, grammar, and missed words by the early part of the year, but regarding this most recent story, I've only edited two chapters. I'm not sure I'm a natural novelist. I'm a wannabe. I've been writing poetry, since I was 13, but all too often my poems are formulaic. However, in my defense, I think it was my high school English Lit. teacher, who told our class, "If you find a poem form, that is easy to you, then you can write a poem as easily as you can write a friendly letter." My iambic quatrains become a friendly letter to the world every day. My recent novel is fiction, that could be a biography, if my main character was a real person, and not the individual I created to convey a belief. After editing, I expect the length of the story to be between 50,000 and 60,000 words, unless some advisor thinks, that a 20,000 to 30,000 word novella would serve better to tighten up the action, cutting out some of the fluff, that I invariably put in to meet the 50,000 word finish line. This novel started with the first day of Novel-Writing Month on November 1st, 2025. I've stopped progressing because I do not feel, that I have the necessary tools to make it fully print-worthy. I used to be part of the group Carol St.Ann Could someone guide me through the basics of novel-writing? Do we already have resources on WDC, that I have missed all these years? I have been writing these November novels, since 2017 only missing one year, I think. My style, so far, is a lot of telling through a great deal of character conversations. At some point I would like to be able to finish my most novel about a great artist, whose identity is wrapped up in his art, but he goes blind. Much of the novel deals with the thought, "Now what?" Will he find a new career after such a loss as did Beethoven with the loss of his hearing? Words: 483 by Jay O’Toole on January 15th, 2026 ![]() ![]() |
Sometimes this life is just a list of daily things, that we must do. The loved ones cared for, hugged and kissed, plus cleaning house that's never through. And then there's work, beyond the house, that pays the bills, and buys the gifts. The groceries shopped by either spouse, which feed the tummies, the heart it lifts. So many things invade our minds. The constant tasks make rest to flee. The pressing years, that weighing blinds to playful childhood days we'd see. But when a moment's breath we take to think on respite with the Lord, what a gift of Joy we thus partake found swimming in The Divine True Word. We're waiting now for Christ's Return. The Blest Day when we'll see His Face. This starts the years to ever learn, to be as we were made in Grace. But when His Majesty comes anon, the waiting will be ever o'er. The Greatest Love, God's Only Son, Salvation in This Blessed Door. If hear you can, thou needst not wait. The behest is yours. Oh, come with speed. Such difference made, 'tis ever great. His Time is now. He will not plead. by Jay O’Toole on January 14th, 2026 ![]() ![]() |