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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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“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)    |
| A gifted painter, oft when young finds things to draw and paint around him in the world, best sung. Such sweetness makes us faint. One day, young Randal woke to find a pearl within a tree strung on a nearly-clear fishing line, quite knotted furiously. Dad's wiresnips tucked into his back pocket he climbed up gingerly. A mass of limbs that poked and prodded. The goal, the pearl to free. The pearl, secured in front pocket, zipped, he backed down to the ground. Examining the treasure, he quipped, "What a value I have found! "The subject of my latest painting. Just one for Fluffy's ear. Must find a great name for its popular raving, quite bold, and without fear. "I'll call it 'A Dog with a Pearl Earring.' Nobody's done that before, but Mom raised a finger to caution my thinking, 'More time your title explore.' "Some guy, it would seem, made a title like that, but a girl, not a dog, had the smile. Offense it would give, making painting fall flat, marring my name for an unruly while." Tossed the pearl, and gave Fluffy a warm woolen chair to curl, and contentedly be. Approving of this, Mom gave a wink over there, and our dog was asleep, snoozingly. by Jay O’Toole on October 4th, 2025   |
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