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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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"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    |
Blessed notes of every stripe, up and down the board, glissandos as fingers swipe these waves to praise the Lord. Measured notes of whole and half with sixteenth runs as well, a swaying bridge is now the staff, that makes each heart to swell. The Wexford Carol is the first, that I must play when practicing. Messiah born for souls, who thirst removes the need for balancing. The other gift of Christmas tune is "Still, Still, Still," its peace imparts. Messiah's coming now so soon removes great conflict from the start. To sing and play of He, Whose Birth began the restoration Plan is Joy of heart beyond all mirth in Grace fore'er The Savior can. by Jay O’Toole on December 21st, 2022 |
Warming glow 'mid quiet sounds to keep the blustery chill at bay. Evening thoughts of the day abound, nothing need we do or say. Soft white lights to warm the heart, blessings in each wordless gift, peaceful moments find their start each soul on the coldest night to lift. Christmas Joy wrapped in the whitest rays of lights to keep our hope's own rest. Blessed nights, that follow days of busy jobs, that often test. by Jay O’Toole on December 20th, 2022 |
The temperatures are newly cold with Christmas almost here. The wrapping paper's neatest folds show gifts so wondrously clear. "Please, help me, Lord, to keep these days of Christmas in my heart. How swiftly they run with light displays to the end from whence they start. "Your great Son's Birth is why we joy. December's full of light. Please, make it last more than a toy, and fill us with hope so bright. "Please, give us Christmas joy all through the year, until the days of lights and decorations new, with love and kindness obeyed. "Eternal life when this one's done, so blest by sights and sounds. Please, gift our loved ones by Your Son, that ever Hope abounds. "The Greatest Gift, that sunny morn was Jesus living new. Salvation's Bliss from death was torn. The work of Life was through. "Please, send Your Invitation's Call (John 6:44) to those we know and love, and to the rest, whose 'life' is pall, the canceled debt remove. "'Amen,' we cheer. God's Christ has come. We pray in Jesus' Name. The new year's Hope be His dear Sum to rest, no more in shame." by Jay O’Toole on December 19th, 2022 |
red and shiny nose flies in front for all to see darkish night is cleared by Jay O’Toole on December 16th, 2022 |
| 'Tis ten more days 'til Christmastide when Santa brings what young ones spied, and Hope's eternal, none denied, but frenzied shopping ends. 'Tis ten more days 'til Christmas bliss when childlike joy makes parents kiss, and days of peace begin with this, the heart of someone mends. 'Tis ten more days 'til Christmas comes when parents add the checkbook sums. The calendar, again, becomes its beat of "mostly same." 'Tis ten more days 'til Christmas Joy for man and woman, girl and boy, whose hopes are tied, not to a toy, but to the One, Who came. 'Tis ten more days 'til Christmas lights make dancing eyes and wondrous sights find rest within this night of nights for Mary's Gift was wrapped. 'Tis ten more days 'til Christmas hay reminds each heart, He came to stay to save us from this death-filled Day to free the ones so trapped. 'Tis ten more days 'til Christmas' Son this Life forever by Him won Salvation in blest hearts, now won is seen so hopeful, new. 'Tis ten more days 'til Christmastide. A Baby's Birth and Savior's Side defends us from our human pride. He came to save us, too. by Jay O’Toole on December 15th, 2022 |
Christmas day will soon be here. We really should be sweet. The poem tells us, "not a tear, or you will miss a treat." When Rudolph led the big man's sleigh, the sky was murky dark. He bested all the games they play. 'Twas no need then to park. The broken toys of Misfit Land found truest homes that night. Their future lives were wondrous, grand when children made things right. So, "Ho, ho, ho, and merry all your Christmases must be," as Santa sits so big and tall in his sleigh for all to see. by Jay O’Toole on December 14th, 2022 |
Betimes this life will change it's pace, and throw a little curve. Those times it's best to lean on Grace, not what we think's deserved. The whispered peace, that Christmas brings was seen when Jesus came. The crickets chirp. A robin sings, "He's evermore the same." The star, that lit that sky-high tree bent magi to their knees. The light of God on Calvary bore sin in death to free. The Christmas Babe rose from the grave as Lord forevermore. This whispered hope, that "Jesus saves" has settled Death's dread score. Christ rose, again, and Death can't speak. He took our place as One so meek. Each day He whispers to some heart, "My Gift for you makes new life start." The Christmas Peace in whispered tones, proclaims He died for thee alone. Arising for His third day's win. New life He lives. He paid for sin. Our whispered peace this Christmastide began when blood flowed from His side to give us life forevermore, and lasting riches from His store. Each Christmas as a whispered peace we're blest to see His Face. His Joy in us will soon increase, while resting in His Grace. by Jay O’Toole on December 13th, 2022 |
When Christmas seems so small these days, I sit and search the yard to find some meaningful displays to help this aging bard. "Up in the treetops squirrels climb, running from these cats of mine. Down to the backyard, running fast, hoping escape will help them last. "Ho! Ho! Ho! Who wouldn't go? Ho! Ho! Ho! With them, I know, up in the treetops squirrels climb, dancing up there, and wasting time." Some nightly lights fill with the sun to make them burn and glow. The darkness has not truly won through Hope in Christ to know. The greenhouse shelters tender plants, protecting from the cold, that when the spring brings thaw and grants, they'll sit outside so bold. I've planted shrubs, that need some lights, but so far from the house, I need that cords be dug by might to protect from rains, that douse. The time seems so much thicker, now, and Christmas seems so small, those playful days of childhood bow to work, that seems so tall. Will Christmas cards somehow be writ? Will presents wrapped up be? Will trappings of these days submit? Will Christ, God's Son, we see? by Jay O’Toole on December 12th, 2022 |
Nights of parties, smiling faces, nights of rest, enjoying bliss, nights of peace, and hopeful graces, Joy in lights, and gentle kiss. Nights of sitting with some coffee, nights communing with some tea, nights of cups, and sweetest toffee, tastefully to share with thee. Nights are longer in December, nights requiring manmade lights, nights our eyes feast on each ember, colors glow reds, and greens, and whites. Nights lead up to Christmas morning. Nights then shorten ev'ry day. Nights are God's Own gentle warning, "Look to Jesus, and obey." by Jay O’Toole on December 9th, 2022 |
The days of Christmas are so few. They're here, and then they're gone. What is the secret Christians knew on that first morning's dawn? The greatest Christmas present given was One, Who bled and died to make receivers new, forgiven, His everlasting Bride. This Secret Christmas has its tree illumined from the top. The Gift of Bethlehem, so free, that death could never stop. The Christmas carols sung within the hearts of friends, that day. His new redeemed, and lasting kin, His Voice did aye obey. Remembering that bless-ed day we celebrate His birth. His Father's Will He did obey, and now we share His Worth. by Jay O’Toole on December 8th, 2022 |
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