Lynna Clark

By Lynna Clark

Wouldn’t it be cool if there were loudspeakers announcing across every country, every nation, every village the wonderful message of God’s love? What if airplanes flew low and dropped leaflets in the language of each person? Maybe a parade could march through every town, playing music which pointed folks to their Creator. In the biggest cities giant billboards would broadcast digital images drawing citizens to God.

I think that’s a great idea. We could saturate the whole world with displays of God’s great power and love. But where could we get the money for such an undertaking?

We could have a yard sale.

Hmmm…

Good thing God didn’t wait for me to implement the plan. It’s already done.

“The heavens proclaim the glory of God.

The skies display His craftsmanship.

Day after day they continue to speak;

Night after night they make Him known.

They speak without a sound or word;

Their voice is never heard.

Yet their message has gone throughout the earth,

And their words to all the world.”

This beautiful plan to draw mankind to Himself through creation has been in place from the beginning. Even for us who know the Lord well and are used to His kindness, it’s amazing to watch a mama bird caring for her little ones. A star filled night reminds me of how small I am and what an awesome God we serve.

It causes me to understand better why Satan would make such an effort to quiet creation’s testimony. The evolution theory did not originate with scientists. How funny to “reason” that all this just happened because conditions were right.

The Lord of the universe is drawing all to Himself through creation. Let’s be faithful in showing them the rest of the story as given in His Word.

“The instructions of the LORD are perfect, reviving the soul.

The decrees of the LORD are trustworthy, making wise the simple.

 The commandments of the LORD are right, bringing joy to the heart.

The commands of the LORD are clear, giving insight for living.”*

The testimony of Creation and the Word will not be silenced.

May we be just as faithful!

See Psalm 19*

Photo by my sweet daddy, Seabert Pittman

By Lynna Clark

My daddy is a great story teller. In honor of his eighty-fifth birthday, I’m retelling one of his. I naively asked one day if the ocean ever got rough enough to be scary when he was out to sea.
“Oh yes.” He replied with a laugh.

I figured that on a huge aircraft carrier he might not even notice a storm. The few times I’ve been out on the ocean I quickly realized that the sea is not for me. I recall praying something similar to “Lord, if You will just get me back to land, I will never gripe or complain again.” He answered my prayers even though He knows I’m a liar.

My question prompted daddy to tell us a story we’d never heard. His ship was near the Arctic Circle along with a fleet of US Navy vessels. Together with the British Navy they were doing maneuvers during the Korean conflict. All their planes were in the air when suddenly a thick fog rolled in. It settled in and stayed for a very serious amount of time.

“It was so thick you couldn’t see any of the other ships. We were in real danger because planes were running out of fuel and the pilots couldn’t see to land. The captain came over the ship’s loudspeaker and called ‘ALL HANDS ON DECK!’”

“Once we were assembled, the captain gave an order. It was really more of a request. He asked us to pray. Everybody bowed their heads. Within about ten minutes, the fog cleared and planes came dropping out of the sky. You’ve never seen such a swarm! It didn’t matter if they were Brits or American, they were scrambling just to land on any vessel before that fog rolled back in. There were over a hundred planes in the air above us that day. We didn’t lose a single one.”

It’s good for us to feel helpless at times. It’s important to recognize that we cannot control each situation to our liking. It’s wise to realize that in the grand scope of things, we are actually very small. Like tiny vessels tossed in an enormous angry sea we know in our soul that we need help. How amazing that the One Who created the vast ocean has invited us to call on His Name, and He hears us! With just a Word, the winds obey Him. The waves are still. The fog is lifted and suddenly, through no power of our own, we find ourselves safely home.

The age old request “LORD help!” is a very powerful prayer. Only when we come to the end of our own wisdom and resources, can we fully appreciate Who He is. And He doesn’t even wait for us sailors to clean up our lives before He answers.
How great is our God!

“’LORD help!’ they cried in their trouble and He saved them from their distress. He calmed the storm to a whisper and stilled the waves. What a blessing was that stillness as He bought them safely into harbor! Let them praise the LORD for His great love and for the wonderful things He has done for them.” -Psalm107:28-31

By Lynna Clark

July 11, 2012 – written 14 years ago, so of course a lot has changed. But as the writer of the gospel of John would say, there’s so much else I could write, but the world wouldn’t hold all that. =)

Once upon a time there was a young man in high school. He had just started dating this girl. He took a chance and asked her to a casual Bible study where she met the Lord. She told her two sisters who also trusted Christ. Two years later the young man married this high school sweetheart. Through the years they had three daughters. Her sisters also each had three kids. All but one is married now. From that family here’s a few of their summer activities this year:

• Two are training for triathlons; one just swam clear across Lake Norman
• Two had major roles in Bible School at their churches
• Two are hiking the Appalachian trail, taking a six month adventure break
• Two are in Kenya doing survival and language training as missionaries
• One is headed to Haiti for a summer mission trip taking supplies to an orphanage
• One is working her way through Bible college in order to train young people
• Several lead Life Groups and Bible studies in their homes
• Two are expecting babies this fall
• One just delivered
• One is paper pregnant
• Two continue to faithfully serve as pastor and wife at their church
• One is a lawyer who helps missionaries get their paper work [wills, etc.] in order
• Many faithfully work wherever they are needed in various vocations and churches
• One is a youth leader; he and his wife just witnessed 27 kids accepting Christ and 30 others re-dedicating their lives to the Lord at summer camp

And it all started because a young man in high school took his girlfriend to a Bible study.

Happy Birthday David! Thank you for loving me and our family for forty years! Thank you for willingly serving wherever the Lord leads. Your example is a testimony of what God can do with one obedient faithful man! This verse sounds just like you:

“You have heard me teach things that have been confirmed by many reliable witnesses. Now teach these truths to other trustworthy people who will be able to pass them on to others.” -2 Tim. 2:2

PS:

The moral of the story is that while David would never take credit for all the wonderful things his family is a part of, we never know how important our simple acts of service and obedience are in the grand scheme of things.

Be faithful in “little things” today!

By Lynna Clark

A group of older ladies were clucking along in their sewing circle complaining of their aches and pains. Each of them was dealing with something different. There was a pause and one of the ladies wisely commented. “I like being old. Everybody gets to be young. But not everyone gets to be old.”

I’ve been thinking on that with David’s birthday coming up. Even though he was 69 when he passed last summer just before his July birthday, he never really acted old. His skin was smooth [he got that from his mom]. He still had good hair [he got that from his dad] until the very end. I always loved his hair. But his quick dry wit was the best sign of his young heart. I loved how funny he could be. He used to say that sarcasm was his spiritual gift. But he never made a joke at the expense of others. His wit was always kind.

I told him once that I wanted a sign for our yard for the many people using our road as a shortcut. They fly past our house through our neighborhood like a bunch of NASCAR wannabees. The sign would say, “Drive Like YOUR Grandkids Play Here!” He shook his head.. “No. We are not going to be those people.” Since I was not used to hearing the word no from him, I was truly surprised. He followed up by saying, “And we are not going to be those grumpy old people who shout at little kids in church, ‘Stop running!’ We will be the ones that hand out candy with noisy wrappers.”

He also told me one time that when he died he wanted to be cremated, mixed in with black paint and sprayed onto his motorcycle. That way he could keep on riding. So to the guy who bought his bike, stop by the houses sometime. I’ve got something special for you.

Happy Birthday in Heaven my Beloved. Though I’m glad you aged well, I’m even more thankful that now you are forever young.

By Lynna Clark

Today marks one year since losing my beloved David. God gave us two years of dating and fifty one years of marriage. Or actually it was more like fifty three years of hanging out as best friends. My heart still cracks wide open with the grief of missing him. Knowing he is with the Lord softens the pain, as in I do not sorrow as those who have no hope. And yet I sorrow. Deeply. I guess I always will. Someone wisely told me that this grief is the price of great love. So yes. I will pay that price gladly in exchange for the life we shared.

Beloved David. Oh how I miss you.

You can tell how much he loved me by the size of that corsage.

By Lynna Clark

Wouldn’t it be cool if there were loudspeakers announcing across every country, every nation, every village the wonderful message of God’s love? What if airplanes flew low and dropped leaflets in the language of each person? Maybe a parade could march through every town, playing music which pointed folks to their Creator. In the biggest cities giant billboards would broadcast digital images drawing citizens to God.

I think that’s a great idea. We could saturate the whole world with displays of God’s great power and love. But where could we get the money for such an undertaking?

We could have a yard sale.

Hmmm…

Good thing God didn’t wait for me to implement the plan. It’s already done.

“The heavens proclaim the glory of God.

The skies display His craftsmanship.

Day after day they continue to speak;

Night after night they make Him known.

They speak without a sound or word;

Their voice is never heard.

Yet their message has gone throughout the earth,

And their words to all the world.”

This beautiful plan to draw mankind to Himself through creation has been in place from the beginning. Even for us who know the Lord well and are used to His kindness, it’s amazing to watch a mama bird caring for her little ones. A star filled night reminds me of how small I am and what an awesome God we serve.

It causes me to understand better why Satan would make such an effort to quiet creation’s testimony. The evolution theory did not originate with scientists. How funny to “reason” that all this just happened because conditions were right.

The Lord of the universe is drawing all to Himself through creation. Let’s be faithful in showing them the rest of the story as given in His Word.

“The instructions of the LORD are perfect, reviving the soul.

The decrees of the LORD are trustworthy, making wise the simple.

 The commandments of the LORD are right, bringing joy to the heart.

The commands of the LORD are clear, giving insight for living.”*

The testimony of Creation and the Word will not be silenced.

May we be just as faithful!

See Psalm 19*

Photo by my sweet daddy, Seabert Pittman

By Lynna Clark

We filled a row of rockers on the huge porch. For over twenty years while mama was alive we rented a place at the beach for the extended family. I’m sure locals scattered to the four winds the first week in June each summer just to avoid our chaos.

Thanks to mama it was an organized chaos. Each family was responsible for certain things on the master list she kept year after year. Seldom did we have to make a grocery run while vacationing. Ice cream sundae night was the one exception. We looked forward to it all week. Mama taught us the value of organizing our chaos. Daddy however, has wisdom of a different sort.

One night while rocking and sipping coffee on the aforementioned porch, he noticed his rocker was not performing to his satisfaction. Being a man who repairs everything the moment there’s a need, he commented with disdain. “For want of a nail, the house was lost.”

Handing me his coffee, he fetched his tool box and fixed the rocker. “Anybody else settin’ in a wobbly rocker?” he asked while walking down the line of chairs. I know what you’re thinking. What kind of person takes a tool box on vacation? The same kind that packs his weed-eater so he can clear the public walkway. Yep. That’s my dad.

Sure I’m a little partial. But I declare, I think my daddy can fix just about anything. I may have told you this before. But he built and hung the rafters over his lake deck so he could turn it into a screened in porch. I asked him who helped get those heavy things hoisted.

“I built a jig,” he answered like it was nothing. For those of you who still have no idea how he did it, don’t confuse jig with a little dance one does to express joy. No, daddy’s jig was a homemade tool he built to prop one end of a rafter while he climbed a ladder and hung the other end. I wasn’t there so I can’t imagine it either. It’s just another one of those things daddy knows how to do. The old adage “Necessity is the mother of invention,” is very true. The problem is that there’s not a lot of necessity in our culture anymore. My daddy has lived that particular kind of wisdom all his life. When you don’t have exactly what you need, you make do with what you have. Wise indeed.

I heard that during the early years of space exploration the American government spent millions trying to figure out how to make an ink pen write where there was no gravity. Our solution to every problem is to pour money on it. The Russians beat us at that game. They just used a pencil. Though daddy’s no Russian, that’s his kind of common sense. Even now I can still hear his reprimand when I did something less than brilliant.

“Ain’t ya got no common?”

Sometimes I worry that I’ve missed out on that old fashioned practical kind of wisdom. My phone has a calculator so my memory of the multiplication tables is fading fast. It also has folks’ names so I don’t have to memorize anyone’s phone number. BUT! I can still count out change when paying with real money. On days when I’m feeling especially mischievous, I hand the baby-faced cashier a twenty dollar bill plus whatever change it takes to pay so she can hand me back an even ten. Watching her eyes glaze over is weirdly satisfying. However, I try not to gloat too much as I will surely be asking someone her age for technology advice before the day is over. Too bad there’s not a jig for that. I could call my daddy.

Daddy’s Festive Jig

By Lynna Clark

Poor Kevin. He is not well. See him leaning over on the bird bath? He’s been a little droopy lately, so I stood him back up. While he nodded his head in approval, a wasp popped me on the leg. That’s okay. It was a small price to pay to help a friend.

Hannah and I walked by Kevin a few days later and he had fallen all the way over. Bless his heart. Those dang squirrels must’ve knocked him on his face again. Hannah reached down to lift him back up when a whole swarm of wasps flew out. They popped her good! Turns out Kevin had a secret.

Deep inside his coconut heart was a large wasp nest. Kevin was full of trouble.

Quite a few years back I tried to help a lady who was going through a terrible time. She lashed out so hatefully that I had to wonder what brought on her wrath. The pastor where I worked observed the ruckus and said these wise words:

“Hurting people often hurt others.”

It didn’t make me feel any better. Crazy woman, now we both hurt. What’s up with your bad self? But I started noticing a pattern.

My pastor friend was right. Those who hurt others are usually hiding a great deal of pain themselves.

But I’ve also found the opposite to be true. Some of the sweetest comfort I’ve ever received has been from those who’ve experienced great pain or loss.

Maybe it’s about how we process our suffering.

An old saying that bears repeating is this.

“Trials will either make us bitter or better.”

You’ll be happy to know that Kevin is better. His demons were exorcised with a large can of wasp spray. Thanks David.

Now Kevin is back to nodding his head and happily making those who pass his way smile again.

By Lynna Clark

I finally shared with my husband a terrible thing that happened nearly thirty years ago. I was traveling home with three little girls in tow when I had a flat tire. I limped it into a service station where a nice young mechanic came out of the garage area wiping the grease from his hands. “What can I do for you ma’am?” he kindly asked.

“I’ve got a flat.” I showed him the back left tire as I got out of the car. “Could you fix it for me?”

“Sure thing ma’am!” he was all over it lickety split. Three little girls watched from inside as he made quick work of something that would’ve taken me all morning to figure out… if I could’ve done it at all. I asked sheepishly if he’d take a check as I had zero cash in my purse.

“No problem! That’ll be five bucks for the use of the wrench,” he kindly replied.

“Are you kidding? Let me pay you more than that…” I protested. When he shook his head no and repeated, “Five bucks.” I asked “Would you like an apple pie?”

I had a yard full of apple trees at the time and had learned to make homemade pies. That would be the least I could do. He suddenly got his back up and replied in a tone I will never forget.

“My WIFE would not be happy! I try to stay away from things like that!”

“Things like what?” I wondered though I never asked. I have no idea what the man thought I was offering, but believe me, it was PIE.

I was so embarrassed.

Look at me man! Of course I’m terribly attractive here in my pleated mom jeans, blinding white tennis shoes and big eighties hair. It’s surely hard to resist a woman with three kids in a hatchback who has to write a check for five dollars. But c’mon man! Pie is not CODE for anything.

I only told one person what happened in case she knew something about offering pie that I did not. She was hip like that. I knew I could trust my friend Ann not to tell anyone. She didn’t. But every once in a while something would come up and she’d ask, “So did you pay with ‘pie’?” …wink wink

Even now as I confess this indiscretion to you, my neck turns red with embarrassment. It took me thirty years to tell my husband who loves me with all his heart. Why?

It’s hard being misunderstood… maybe because we feel the shame of what others assume about us.

But I’m telling you… it was PIE for crying out loud.

Big 80’s hair with my man rockin’ the stache

PS- Happy Anniversary beloved David; the first one I will spend without you. Praise God for the 51 years of wedded bliss He gave us which included lots of …. cake.

By Lynna Clark

There she was again. I kept running into this woman I was acquainted with long ago, usually in the parking lot of some store. As she walked away I commented to Hannah, “What is up with that mullet? She’s kept her hair like that forever. Who would do that?”

I did not even bless her heart.

The following week David and I went out to eat for our anniversary. My friend Melanie and her hubba Dennis sat across from us. I kept admiring Melanie’s bangs. She is just so pretty. At the end of our dinner, she took a picture of me and David. As I looked at our anniversary picture, I really hated my very high forehead.  Then it happened. Suddenly I had bang envy.

You need to know this about me.

I have cut my own hair for years.

I know. It’s similar to the man who is his own attorney and therefore has a fool for a client.

But in my defense, every time, and I mean EVERY TIME I get a professional cut, they forget to allow for my extreme natural curl. At the end of the shearing, they whip me around in the chair to view my loveliness in the massive mirror. And EVERY TIME I wish I had spent my money on therapy instead… or perhaps a hat.

Good grief.

Then I leave them a nice tip, and vow NEVER to step into another hair salon as long as we both shall live… me and my hair.

So annyyywayyy…

I cut me some bangs.

But I forgot to allow for my extreme natural curl. Since I didn’t cut the back, just my bangs, suddenly I had a mullet.

I do not even deserve a “bless your heart.” That’s what I get for being critical.

A mullet.

No doubt it was punishment for my haughty words. I wore it like that for two whole days. Factor in the humidity and it fast became a fuzzy mullet. David never said a word. That is why we have remained married for forty years. The man knows when to keep silent.

One morning I decided that everyone around me had suffered enough. With scissors in hand, I determined to correct the situation.

I asked God for help. Deep in my soul I heard, “It is hard for thee to kick against the pricks.” So I quit trying to straighten my bangs and allowed them to curl all willy nilly the way God made them.

Apparently my transgression was worse than a two day penance. For now I am sporting a much shorter curly doo. Even my 21 month old grandson, who says very little, pointed at my fuzzy head and commented a long slow, “UH-oh…”

I imagine that I will bump into my mullet friend again soon. As she walks away she will probably shake her head and wonder, “What is up with her afro? She looks like Richard Simmons. Who would do that?”

I hope she will be kind enough to bless my heart.