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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    |
Enjoying Christmas lights, we do throughout the house and in the yard. When Christmas season's gone and through, removing decoration's hard. The lighter side of Christmas days is found when nights approach and bring the brightness of all light displays, and child hearts of all ages sing. Some places all the lights are white. Some places colors joyful shine. When Christmas lights are on, and bright, the hope they bring, makes all seem fine. The nights are long at Christmas time. The darkness needs relief of light. The sounds of carols made to chime seem like the lights throughout the night. by Jay O’Toole on December 2nd, 2022 |
Gentle Christmas, find a way to bring us peace, and joy, anon, that when our gifts are on display for moments, fears of life are gone. Gentle Christmas, let us live within thy graces ev'ry day to find some Hope, and ways to give in all we do, and things we say. Gentle Christmas, will we find thy shining lights, and music fair throughout Th'Eternal Day so kind are wrapped-up in the Savior there? Gentle Christmas, is thy Name our Saving Lord, the Father's Son, Who took our sin, and bore our blame, Who died and rose, the third day won? We seek our joys in "spirits," here to numb the pain of saddened hearts, but everlasting Truth is clear, "Our peace begins when Jesus starts." Gentle Christmas, help us see the greatest celebration, known is in Thine Arms, we fly to Thee. Make childlike hearts in Thee be grown. Gentle Christmas, these three weeks are celebration's joyful path. Please, help us wait with minds so meek, that in its end we all shall laugh. by Jay O’Toole on December 1st, 2022 |
| We lived the days of blood, sweat, tears to write a novel once, again. Assayed we through all joys and fears for 50,000 words to win. Some days I thought I'd not, but write those thousand words as halfway there. My par I missed one cruelish night and soldiered on past heartfelt care. So, writing badges, all but one, adorn my NaNoWriMo home. 1-6-6-7 were not all done, but averages more than vinced that tome. My hero finished well, I'd say. He saw his Lord and wife, again. The latter lived his earthly day. The former bore his debt of sin. How did I write such reams of words, while working a new job most days? The resting hours flew like the birds, 'mid characters' vast do's and says. Oh, NaNoWriMo's in the ring to box us as we bob and weave. "I'm finished now!" I dance and sing. I cried as dear souls lost to grieve, but grieving's done when Victory's here. I speak the Truth to all, who list, "Each life's a tome, so free and clear, So blest when God's Own Son be kissed." by Jay O’Toole on November 30th, 2022 |
So much to do, so much to think, so much I need a resting place. With days of writing on the brink, I'll need some coffee in my space. A few more hours before we start to write the book of this year's gaze. Experience we would impart to story write in 30 days. For now, I'm resting at the line, that bids me, "Strike a runner's stance." I'll go when the time is duly mine, and leave no whit to whimsied chance. I've prepped, and read it, prepped so more, but now I stop to eat and sleep. Past midnight, then I will explore the life my character's in so deep. The starting line with chalk and dust, now builds intensity to run. We'll find great words to show. We must. In 30 days we'll dance in fun. by Jay O’Toole on October 31st, 2022 |
We've done the work through this past month, preparing for a book to write. It could be said, that Joy is wonth, and fiction's vision's now our sight. How many chapters make this book? How many villains, friends, and scenes? How many times the forlorn look, until my own "Jack" sprouts his beans? Prepared to sweat my hero's days? Prepared to slog depression's mire? Prepared to lead as he obeys? Prepared to finish, though I tire? The days of words will lead me through. The days of grammar, caps, and goals. The days of Joy, and days of blue, while living days in all these roles. Each NaNoWriMo done becomes a future help for those, who read. Each day recording daily sums becomes a meal some heart to feed. Though 50,000 seems a lot when starting book, assaying goal, remember lives are lived as plot. Some steps each day, until it's whole. We do the doings breath by breath, until the task or meal be eat. We live each day, until in death the body's laid, but we're complete. The book is mine should God now give the words to write, the truths to teach. May all, who read in Him now live, that Heaven's Home in Him would reach. (John 3:16; John 6:37; Romans 10:9-10,13; Philippians 2:13) by Jay O’Toole on October 30th, 2022 |
| It's time to change from poetry to prose. The next two months will know about those. "His rhythms and rhymes so meekly he stows, until it's December, again." October is prep for writing a bunch. November will teach us to write with a hunch. No mincing of words, it's time full to munch. 'Tis a novel in vict'ry to win. My poetry I love from the depths of my soul, but prosaic thoughts must help my book become whole. With writing a novel in November, my goal, I must let my poetry now rest. But God, being pleased to help me finish anew, I'll plan to return with a poem or two, enjoying the birth of our Savior all through December, then's finished my quest. by Jay O’Toole on September 30th, 2022 |
The day of joy and happiness, the day of strife and sadness ill, the day of Christ, Who comes to bless, and judge the world when Wrath does fill. The Day of days when days will end, and Time will be of days no more. The day of joy's and sadness' blend will be a mem'ry as of yore. The day of making God has made, and making still He does today. His Day at first had good displayed, the day went wrong of disobey. The Day of Man is selfish, long. We go our way to night, not day. These days in line still hear Man's song, until Heart's hard or learns to pray. The Day of days and lasting Now when Christ upon His Throne doth sit. The Ancient of days before Him bow when Time hath died, and Aye won't quit. by Jay O’Toole on September 29th, 2022 |
| Note to Self: "Always, always, always, keep your profile's email up-to-date." Today's adventure has been worth at least a few extra gray hairs. "What happened, Jay O'Toole?" Why thank you. I'm so glad you asked. I tried to log in to my WDC profile three times this morning, unsuccessfully. I promptly pressed the button, directing WDC to send me an email link to change my password. The only thing is that the original email, which was connected to this profile hasn't been used by me in about a year because I was getting overloaded with spam. Busy senior year of high school for our daughter. Open a new email account. Forget about the old email. Keep on pressing forward to graduation. Nice plan, until today when I went to the old email to retrieve the WDC Change Password Link. It was then, that realized, This is one of those companies, which deletes everything about your email account if you haven't been there in three months or more. (I've got some emails, that I wish I could delete, but those companies keep the email operational, indefinitely.) "Tell us more, Jay O'Toole!" Okay, if you insist. That was when the big ol' neon sign flashed across my mind, "NOW WHAT!" I'm locked of my Jay O'Toole profile. I have no email where I can pick up the Change Password email. "No more Writing.Com, ever?" (Insert sad face.) Then, the idea popped into my head. Free WDC accounts can communicate with anybody on the website, including The StoryMaster  .That's what I did. I have no intention of keeping the new profile, and newbie status, but for a little while the free account became my communication tool. Finally, after looking around, sending emails to other people I knew, I found his account and sent him the email. He responded so promptly, that I was able to post this blog for September 28th, not missing the date on the blog calendar. I'm really grateful to you, The StoryMaster . Words cannot fully express.All this because I forgot to update the currently used email address, connected to my WDC profile. Now, I can rest easy. Blessings, All. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz... by Jay O’Toole on September 28th, 2022 |
"Your writing style is pretty flawed." "You'll never make a cent." My gift was given me by God to work each day well-spent. "You talk and talk and bore each one, who dares to read a page." Each conversation's really fun. One day "they'll be the rage." "Just look at Dave, and Tink, and Sam. They've really gone quite far." They're "down the earth," less pride and sham. With them, I'm now a star. 'What makes you think your words mean aught?" "What makes you think souls care?" Reception's not what I've been taught if faithfulness is there. "You write about your Jesus Christ when other faiths are here." He's blest me so it's worth the price. I write to make that clear. "You've written poems for many days." "What's here to show for that?" The sun doth shine unnumbered rays. All payments would fall flat. I write to bless the Lord Above. He's worthy all my art. What copper farthing measures of the least His Glory's start? "How do you know you'll find success, while breath doth fill each lung?" I don't. My praise must still confess, "His Honor have I sung." by Jay O’Toole on September 27th, 2022 |
landing on the floor morning glow to wake the day hope of joy to come by Jay O’Toole on September 27th, 2022 |
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