%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 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)    |
| This Ñandutí, the lace of wondrous grace, now crafted daily in a Southern town. In Paraguay, we find this unique place. Itauguá is where this craft is found. From Guaraní, the word is known, I'm bound. The "spider's web"like lace to win the hand of beauteous daughter, greatest in the land. by Jay O’Toole on January 29th, 2026    |
| Friendships don't come every day, but when they come, they're blest. Joy, that's felt we just can't say. A friend walks through the test. This friendship gift is worth its weight in the highest value held. Platonic or a life-long mate two hearts can in time meld. What can be done with acquaintances? There are really quite a lot. We work each day at lower res than friendships ever thought. "I'm peopled out!" she says to me. Acquaintances weigh down. The many folks we daily see bring the domicile a frown. A friendship built in younger years lasts more than most could guess. Through childhood loves and many fears true friendships really bless. Sometimes this friend moves far afield 'mid calls and texts galore, but when the weeks to years are sealed the contact's not much more. Yet, when across the miles we reach to visit once again, or bring our "whale" life home to beach the friendship leaps its win. The truest friendship's knitted deep, beyond all time and space. Our best friend's bond we always keep through tests and shame with grace. by Jay O’Toole on January 28th, 2026 |
| O, when it's cold, like it is now, the limbs are moving slow. The neck and shoulders slightly bow as forward's hard to go. But slowing motion lends some rest the body seems to need. The weather piles its hurtful test in days of sullied greed. The sun is set to bid adieu to day in chilly night. The hopes of quick by me and you are frozen into plight. How slow the motion as we see the bed come into view. A few more writing tasks there be, until the day is through. This slow we walk in days of cold as body strength doth flag. The chill makes all seem very old, and limp as though a rag. One wonders when the Lord will come to take His Bride away, but 'til His Work is by Him done, we needs must live each day. If living slow in aging frame, will honor this my Lord, then trudging steps must walk the same as bidden in His Word. These faith-filled skills He yet may use to reach some precious soul, that He from Lasting Past did choose as everlasting whole. So, when it's cold, like it is now, the limbs still moving slow. My will to Christ must always bow for He the way doth know. The slowing motion means we rest, but not in final stop. The Will of God is truly blest. He rules from very Top. by Jay O’Toole on January 27th, 2026 |
| Free Form Experience: When we lived in Oklahoma, I remember some of the best snow events of my life. Snow drifts up the side of our house when we lived in Guymon, and the following event was when we lived in Enid, if I remember correctly. It was maybe a few inches of snow. The whole family bundled up in heavy coats, piled into the car with my disc sled at the ready. The sled was round and concave, like a wok with two leather loop handles to help me hold on. We drove around looking for a nice place to try out the sled. Finally, we decided on a hill behind the hospital. I went up the hill, sat down, and leaned forward to let gravity do it's job. The first part of the ride was fun as I gained speed going down the snow-covered hill, but then there was the matter of the curb at the bottom of the slope. It dented my sled as I bumped up a little, continuing to move forward into the hospital's parking lot. I learned that day, that wok-shaped sled's do not have breaks. Even if it had, I might not of worked much because the parking lot was covered with ice. I kept sliding, and sliding, and sliding as the family and I learned the gravity of the situation, and the lesson of lack of friction. I kept sliding, and sliding, and sliding, until finally I stopped, before sliding under a parked car. Amazingly, my parents and little brother were not that far behind me, though how they got there that fast, I will never know. Mom was all about not doing THAT more than once. So, I guess we must have gone home because I don't remember any more sledding on that day, or any other days as long as we lived in Oklahoma. I must have been about 8 or 9 because we were living in Georgia the first time when I was 10. We didn't go sledding anymore. Can you believe that? Maybe Mom didn't want Paul Simon to sing my dirge. Prose Poem: When we lived in Oklahoma, I went slip, sliding away on my brand new wok-shaped sled. Snow, like the snow of 2026, looked exciting for a little boy, who hadn't even finished his first decade of life. The hill behind the hospital in Enid drew my attention for the first slide on my brand-new sled. Slip, sliding ZOOM down the fluffy powder snow. There I'd go in the icy goodness, but would I be dead or tossed on my head? These were things my Mommy wanted to know. Top of the hill, then Go, go, go! Down the hill toward my family, but "I can't stop, Mom. I'm slip, sliding away." So, sliding, sliding, sliding. Fun, fun, fun! Where would it end? Near a parked car, that's where it ended! No more fun for today! No more fun ever after! My Mommy was scared because "my life flashed before her eyes." I had so much fun as I was slip, sliding away. Mommy had no such fun when I was slip, sliding away. Mommy was not ready for a funeral with a small pine box. Besides, how would she contact Paul Simon to sing the funeral music. We didn't even know Paul Simon, personally, but he sure could sing, and I sure could slide. Jay O'Toole |
Peaceful Christmas, moment's time, lights and carols in the heart, one month later, all sublime. Rest in hope we plainly start. A cup of tea with tastes of choice, the orchestra with notes of peace, this little space doth now rejoice. Relaxing chest doth find release. "O Holy Night" remember now. A world of strife o'erwhelmed by peace. Before the Savior lowly bow, the clash within, it now must cease. "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring", come, now dwell here within me. Times are weary. Thou inspiring. Grace expressed. Your Hope I see. Soothing cup, such warmth when cold. Orange, cinnamon to taste. I'm safe within Your Robes as told. The worries of all sin erased. You came into our weary world so bowed by sin, that hope had fled. This Babe in arms, the Plan unfurled, the payment paid when You were dead. You did not stay as You were laid. You rose upon the third day, whole. You live as You have always said. You took back keys, which once he stole. "Sing We Now of Christmas Day", once from Heaven, down You came. Save Your Chosen ev'ry day. Take us back to Heav'n the same. by Jay O’Toole on January 25th, 2026  |
| O, Lord, please keep our bodies safe, and spirits save for aye. The hope we have is all by faith in what you’re Word doth say. These piles of snow and ice and sleet cause harm to those, who need such great protection, wondrous heat, and sustenance to feed. The need to move on icy roads is treacherous at best. Make safe our trips on largest stroads. Return us home quite blest. The work of ev'ry tech, who braves the frozen trees to fix electric lines, the lives he saves are by his actions rich. All first responders in this storm in honored sacrifice are working harm to keep souls warm, and offer sage advice. The days ahead bring aftermath, and great recovery. O, Lord, please help souls in the path their hopeful future see. Salvation's Message we all need. Please, choose us by Your Grace, that Now, and Evermore we're freed from Hell the awful Place. One Jesus, Perfect, lived His years to cover our great loss. His Death paid all our sin-stained fears. He rose expunging cost. The blanket of the fallen snow, the icy shroud of death are pictures of the Truths we know in taken, given breath. Sin stormed across this world first made. What once was purest white became great blackness by lust bade to fell us in our plight. Save, Lord, from this storm's harmful worst, and save our souls from Sin, or evermore in lasting thirst we'll wish Your Grace could win. But now Your Grace can win the day to meet what we can't meet. To save all lives as Your Will may, and all that's bad defeat. by Jay O’Toole on January 24th, 2026 |
| Though some may say, "It's really rather warm. Why make us worried over what may not even happen?" Long time ago, folks prepped us all for harm, "Better to have it than in the need be taken." Sufficient food can keep us 'live for days. Sufficient water keeps each life for weeks. Good pocket insulation, its warm ways can keep us whole as "chilly fingers" seek. How did they live before electric heat? Can people live in arctic lasting cold? Their wisdom is with body warmth to beat the danger of the freezing temps so bold. To stay alive in beds on frigid nights some feet above the ground, they made a space. The cold descends to cause us many plights. The heat above can warm us with great grace. 'Tis kind to seek protection for our loves in life on Earth, in lasting Day Beyond. For peace we paint the picture of a dove. For Hope believe we in Christ's Merits' Bond. by Jay O’Toole on January 23rd, 2026 |
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 |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
Puzzle Hub
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
