Lynna Clark

By Lynna Clark

We lost two friends last week. Both men died after dealing with cancer for a number of years. Our friend Tim lived long enough to enjoy his grandchildren. Our younger friend Marc was in the middle of raising a son and a daughter and passed on his wedding anniversary. Both men were loved by many. Each had made peace with Jesus, trusting Him as his Savior, and knew his “graduation day” would come soon. So Marc wrote his own obituary. Tim drew his fishing buddy aside and told him what to say at his memorial service. It got me to thinking.

When David’s beautiful mother Nina passed, I was honored to write her obituary. She was so dear and so much fun that it was easy… except for the grieving part. Being a DIY person, I wondered if I should go ahead and write out my own obituary. It might make things easier for my loved ones. Plus I could say a bunch of nice stuff that they might not think of… like how humble I am. And I could quote my favorite songs of yesteryear.

“Her hands were calloused but her heart was tender.” Hmmm…

Redneck Girl might not be the most appropriate. The belt with my name on the back has long ago shrunk a few sizes. Besides, that song might be a stretch since my heart is more calloused than my hands these days. I realized that again a few weeks ago when I started to buy a fall sign to hang on the front door. It was beautiful and not terribly expensive. But it said “Welcome” and everybody knows that’s a lie. Though Nina’s pineapple still rests in my yard as a southern symbol of warmth and friendship, I do not share her gift of hospitality.  And I really try not to be a hypocrite in case I ever decide to invite someone to church. The daughter who was shopping with me confirmed what I was thinking. I might be a tad jaded at this juncture. Maybe I’ll just leave the obituary writing to her.

As I thought on our two friends who passed too soon, a verse came to mind that reflects both their characters. 1 Thessalonians 4:11 says, “Make it your goal to live a quiet life, minding your own business and working with your hands, just as we instructed you before. Then people who are not Christians will respect the way you live, and you will not need to depend on others.”

What a challenge! Both men were very hard workers with pleasant personalities. Marc was always friendly and generous. His giant smile continued even throughout his illness. As long as we’ve known Tim, his eyes have sparkled with something akin to mischief. Quiet kindness was his M.O.

In a day when the goal is to appear perfect and successful, how rare to find two such Godly men. Each lived a quiet life, minded his own business, and loved his Savior, wife and family.

Thank you Tim and Marc, for writing your own beautiful story by the way you lived. We miss you already.

Written in loving memory of our friends Tim Smith and Marc Collins.

By Lynna Clark

There is a nice young man outside going around our house in a very meticulous fashion. First he moved all my flower pots. Did you get that? He moved ALL my flower pots. Some of those suckers are fork-lift worthy. Then he watered them as a protection from the cleanser he was about to use on the siding. From there he sprayed soap over all the exterior surfaces of the house. Now he is power washing the old white siding until it shines. I feel so rich! And it’s not even my birthday!

We’ve always been do-it-yourselfers. That came naturally since we were way too poor to think of hiring an expert. It’s been the running joke with our daughters to spot something beautiful or crafty and immediately say in unison, “We could make that.” Sometimes it works. Other times not so much.

A few years back David and I rented a pressure washer and did-it-ourselves. By the time we finished I swore to never get sucked into such an adventure ever again. I was soaked and filthy down to my skivvies. Perhaps I stood too close to the house or something. But I’m kinda like a T-Rex with little short useless arms. The back spray was hefty. Two days later I was still finding stuff in my hair. Thanks to Mike of The Property Pal, that shall not be the case this time.

My friend Ann and her hubby are also used to doing everything needed around the house. Last month they HIRED a crew to trim some of their massive trees. She too felt rich, especially since she didn’t have to drag off the limbs. That crew even cleaned her patio with a leaf blower. OH! What frivolous luxury!

Mike is almost finished with our house. It’s taken him all morning and though the calendar says it’s fall, the thermometer begs to differ. What a hard worker. People like him are surely a rare breed. Folks tend to idolize celebrities and athletes, actors and actresses. I’ve actually never needed one. But I AM in awe of my plumber. Give me a waitress who pays attention or a man with plumbing skills, or a guy like Mike any day. These fine folks keep the world turning… and more importantly FLUSHING! For people like me who get to hire them, oh how incredibly blessed we are!

In fact, I’m feeling rather fabulous.

By Lynna Clark

My kids seldom ask for anything. It’s true. Our three grown daughters with children of their own seem very content with the life they live. It’s hard to get them to share a Christmas list. So they end up getting bedroom shoes or something exciting like that. Our middle daughter Amanda is much like me in that she cannot eat whatever she wants all willy-nilly. Both of us are fearfully and wonderfully made; actually more fearful than wonderful. So when she had a special request for her birthday I determined to grant her wish.

I had no idea she’d request a gluten-free cheesecake. She could compromise on the dairy and the sugar since it would be her birthday dessert. But what could I do for the crust? Besides, I’ve never made a good cheesecake in my life. My first attempt was lovingly dubbed the Chainsaw Cheesecake. It was not delicious. But it was memorable.

A later attempt was made when my sister Tamra gave me her recipe. It came out beautiful… until I removed the spring form pan. That thing ran right down the side of the counter into a puddle on the floor. I think I may have shed a few tears. The details are a bit fuzzy. It was not delightful.

This time David and I put our heads together and gave it another shot. For the crust we used toasted pecans and semi-sweet chocolate chips. Then using recipes from my sister and my niece Sara we gleaned enough to try again.

It turned out perfect!

However! Here are a few tricks that seemed to make a difference between this cheesecake and the others.

• First, set your cream cheese out early so it’ll come to room temperature
• Next spray or grease your spring form pan way more than you think you need to
• Bake the crust at 400 degrees for 10 minutes then COOL the pan for about 20 minutes
• Pour a little of the cheesecake batter onto the crust; smooth with a spatula then slowly add the rest; this helps the crust stay in place
• Tent the top of the pan with foil but don’t seal; this keeps the top from browning too much
• Add a pan of water [about one inch] on the rack below the cheesecake to prevent cracking
• Don’t open the oven while baking
• Leave in the oven overnight
• Chill the cheesecake before serving
• Pray

What? You mean you’ve never prayed over a dessert before? Me neither! Maybe that’s why this one finally turned out. Here’s the recipe. You’re also going to want to top this with homemade caramel sauce.

And we wonder why we waddle.

Crust:

Toast about 2 cups of pecans in a little butter in a skillet; salt very lightly; chop then add to bottom of greased 8 inch spring form pan; Top with semi-sweet morsels; bake at 400 for 10 minutes; cool 20

Cheesecake:               Preheat oven to 400; reduce to 300 when cheesecake is put into oven

Cream together:

• 3 blocks of cream cheese
• 1 c. sugar
• 5 eggs [one at a time]

Smooth batter over cooled crust; bake one hour; turn oven off but don’t open; let cheesecake rest in oven overnight

Okay, so I peeked at it a few hours later once the oven had cooled. But I didn’t move it… honest.

Caramel sauce: [From the Pioneer Woman]

In a saucepan on medium heat melt and stir together

• 1 stick butter
• 1 c. brown sugar
• ½ cup cream or half and half
• ¼ teaspoon salt

Stir until smooth; cook 2 minutes after it starts to bubble; whisk until smooth; cool before tasting or you will scorch the roof of your mouth; don’t ask me how I know.

David also made homemade whipped topping from heavy whipping cream… because obviously this dessert needed more yumminess. It was a little bit decadent.

May your dessert turn out lovely! May your birthday wishes come true! And may you never have to cut your cheesecake with a chainsaw.

By Lynna Clark

Have you ever been so embarrassed that you wanted to crawl under a table and hide? Like the time when I was a young mother and my skirt fell off at homecoming. We’re talking church gym full of covered dishes and gloriously sanctified saints. This was in the eighties so picture a cute little yellow wrap around number that tied on the side. My darling middle child, who was about five at the time, poked a hole in the bottom of her Styrofoam cup with her pointy little finger. Red punch poured freely onto those nearby while she examined her homemade fountain with wonder. Being a young nimble woman, I jumped into action. Unbeknownst to me the knotted end of my skirt tie was caught in the foldy part of the metal chair where I was perched. In one fell swoop my skirt was left behind as I bounded toward the buffet line for napkins. Praise God for petticoats.

Fast forward to 2019.

We’ve been dealing with a health issue for quite a while. I say “we” because David, my better half for 45 years has journeyed with me through all kinds of treatments. A few weeks ago the pain increased to the point that we decided to consult our family physician. I’ve been through so many tests and “cures” down through the years, that frankly even though I love my new doctor and have the utmost respect for her, I’ve never actually talked with her about this mystery. I decided it was time.

Together we chose a medication that might relieve some of the pain. By the second week in, I could barely toddle without help. Thank the good Lord I haven’t had to be in a hurry to fetch napkins. Annyyywayyy…

At my urging, David took me to a baby shower. Since I really wanted to see our nieces and nephews and all the new babies they’re having, I assured him I’d be fine. We parked close to the door but as he helped me inside, the August heat hit full force. I stumbled and could not tell which way was up. I’ve never been so drunk in all my life. Suddenly I felt very old and feeble. It was even more embarrassing than losing my skirt at church. Later one of my sweet nieces asked if I’d like to hold her baby. I shook my head no then mumbled something about being on drugs. Seems like I laughed quite a bit longer than I should have. Thankfully though, I still had all my clothes on.

When we left, David led me to the car. I stumbled again and hung onto him for dear life. Bless his sweet heart. Like the gentleman he is, he took the drunk girl home. I settled into my recliner and had a good cry. A short while later his sister Gail sent him a text to check on me. Her kindness reminded me of several things.

We all go through embarrassment. Some events are still funny forty years later while others are too fresh to laugh at just yet. AND the people who love us are going to love us no matter what. So since I’m not quite ready to laugh at my current embarrassment, here are two quotes found on Facebook lately that relate.

One: “I can talk an awful lot of smack for someone who tips over when putting on their underwear. Two: “People who are chronically ill are not pretending to be sick. They are pretending to be well.”

By the way, I called a nurse to ask for advice. She was very kind and suggested three things.

One: Stay cool. Two: Move slowly. Three: Call her back if I pass out.

First of all, this is the August from Sheol if I’m not mistaken. Second, I can’t move any slower. I’m already in sloth mode. Third, if I pass out, surely someone else will call 911.

Update:

One month later it’s still hot. But thankfully I was weaned off the extra meds and got the bulk of my balance back. So if you were one of the many people who gave me grace during the questionable times, I love you. And someday if you find yourself staggering, I promise to give you the benefit of the doubt.

It’s just no fun falling down drunk without a party.

By Lynna Clark

We really enjoy watching the Atlanta Braves play. In fact we’ve been fans long enough to remember the days of Andrew Jones, Javy Lopez, John Smoltz, and long before that Dale Murphy. Now we appreciate all the new guys. I think what makes it so enjoyable is that the team is having a good time. They joke with the opposing fans and players. They laugh at each other and make fun of their own mistakes. I kinda love it. Plus all the winning is fun too.

The other night something terrible happened. One of our favorite players, Charlie Culberson, got hit in the head with a ninety-one mile an hour fastball. He immediately went down. As Charlie lay bleeding in the dirt, we waited… and prayed.

The third base coach, Ron Washington is a seasoned veteran who tends to treat each player as a son. As Charlie suffered, Papa Wash, as David dubbed him, kneeled in the dirt beside him. While medics attended his head, gently he patted Charlie’s leg as if soothing his son.

Eventually the medical staff was able to get our wounded player onto a cart. As they drove away Charlie lifted his head to search out the National’s pitcher Fernando Rodney. The men exchanged a moment of grace when Charlie simply gave him a thumbs up. Rodney was visibly shaken and struggled to maintain control when later he continued pitching.

A fastball to the head is serious. Most likely Charlie is out for the rest of this season. If bones are crushed near the eye socket his entire career could be over. I remember years ago when a player was hit with a similar pitch. Because of a shift in the position of the bones around the eye, the man no longer had the depth perception he needed to play. I’m sure both men were aware of the severity of the injury. Yet one simple gesture said in essence,

“It’s okay. I know the ball just got away from you.” 

I felt almost as sorry for the pitcher as I did for Charlie. I wanted to hug him and usher him away from the field. Like Papa Wash I wanted to kneel in the dirt by Charlie. Like the man on the cart holding a towel on Charlie’s head I wanted to put an arm around his shoulder and tell him I’m proud of his reaction toward Rodney. Had I been there I would have tipped my cap and saluted the Washington fans for the silence they gave to the moment and later for their standing ovation as Charlie was carted away.

The Braves announcers were so sickened by the moment that Jeff Francoeur could hardly continue. Chip Caray chose his words wisely and promised us updates. He too expressed sympathy for the pitcher and even the manager of the opposing team.

I know.

None of them are perfect. But I love the Braves. They reminded me of something valuable. People are hurting all around us. May we kneel in the dirt, pat someone on the back, or gently speak a word of grace.

No matter where life takes us, may we do our best to walk worthy of our calling.

By Lynna Clark

Did you hear about the incident at the East Rowan Library? It was all about me. Yeah… apparently I am a big deal. My friend Brittney who works there invited me to speak about my vast experience in writing. The media got wind of it. A crowd gathered. Authorities were called. As we approached the venue with great anticipation, emergency lights flashed in the distance. David pulled our vehicle to the right side of the road so they could lead us through the mob. Evidently Rockwell paparazzi can get pretty rowdy. I guess I need to get used to it. The life of a famous writer can be rather intense.

Did I mention that I write fiction?

So what really happened was…

A few friends shared the event on Facebook. As we traveled toward Rockwell the person in front of us drove at the rate of 25 mph the entire way. But that’s perfectly understandable since he was busy texting. The joy I’d claimed earlier in the day turned to a fervent, heartfelt prayer.

“Lord Jesus, please help me not cuss…”

Apparently someone keeled over at one of the fast food joints and needed emergency personnel. As lights flashed in our direction we pulled to the right. Though I encouraged my beloved to pass the dude in front of us as soon as the ambulance cleared, he is not that guy. David does not bend the rules of the highway. The man is so righteous that he slams on breaks for caution lights. It’s a wonder our marriage has lasted so long.

Texting dude slowly made his way back onto the road, making the star of the show late. Well, not actually late. I guess I should say later than I wanted to be. David always leaves early enough to account for such aggravation.

When finally we got there, the place was packed! We had to park across the way in the gravel lot by the dentist. There were at least thirteen people there… if you count me and David… and the two librarians who hosted… plus my best friend and her husband… and the two who walked out during my riveting presentation.

Dang Millennials. Hey… old people know stuff!

Annyyywayyy… a good time was had by all. I got to meet Michael, who I called Matthew several times. I met Judy and Brenda and Brooke the hugger. My friend Vickie stopped by even though she had groceries in the car. Randall asked good questions which sounded pre-planned, except that I didn’t have answers. But I will next time.

Did I say next time? What I meant was… if I can work another event into my very busy schedule. I’m kind of a big deal.

Someday I’m going to invent a sarcasm font. Folks with my warped sense of humor would certainly benefit.

PS:

The next big event is this Saturday in Lexington, NC. Missions Pottery and More is hosting my new book release from 9am – 4pm. I’ll bring copies of all my books. No pre-order necessary. I’d love to meet you!

By Lynna Clark

Happy Happy Joy Joy!  My new novel The Weakest Reed is about to be released on Amazon! I hope you love it! So many things happened to prevent the publishing. But the Lord graciously did for me what I could not do on my own. I love His kindness! If you’d like to read a snippet, see below or go to Amazon. If you buy the printed version the ebook is free. As always, I really appreciate your encouraging comments, likes and shares, and especially your reviews. They’re so important! Thank you! Can’t wait to hear what you think!

Here’s a preview:

There once was a lovely girl who was the delight of her parents. She was obedient almost to a fault. Often we wondered if she’d ever think for herself. When she finally did, one poor choice changed the entire direction of her life.

As her father I watched helplessly as she struggled to overcome the odds. Her natural personality as an introvert became exaggerated. Fear took over and became her closest companion. Seldom did she smile and rarely would she leave the house.

So we prayed.

Night and day her mother and I lifted our daughter up to the Lord. She seemed broken beyond repair. I held tightly to a promise in Scripture and did my best to believe it.

“He will not crush the weakest reed nor put out a flickering candle. He will bring justice to all who have been wronged.” –Isaiah 42:3

This is her story.

Our beautiful Laurel… the weakest reed.

By Lynna Clark

This is my gardening bench, patiently waiting for Spring. Pots are ready. Dirt is on standby. Spades long to be picked up and used for good. Nearby chairs rock slightly with the winter wind. Even though the sun is shining, the calendar reports that it’s only February. Wait we must.

I could force the issue. My indoor starter plants beg to keep my potting table company. Roots of sweet potato vines and Wandering Jew would feel much more at home in dirt than in the bottles of water on my windowsill. Sunshine can be a deceptive friend. She calls out, “Come! Why wait? Let’s take charge of this day!”

Experience warns that sooner is not always better.

So we wait.

And pray.

Lord, please fill these hands… these pews… these hearts… this table… my empty bed… my life… this crib.

The hope we once had disappears behind the dark cloud of disappointment. And we continue to wait. And pray.

“I do believe, but help me overcome my unbelief!”*

Then one day, winter becomes a distant memory.

“I will never forget this awful time, as I grieve over my loss. Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this: The faithful love of the LORD never ends. His mercies never cease.” **

Dear sweet Lord of heaven and earth, please strengthen us in the waiting. Help us give You glory, knowing You love us and care about our lives. You have given us the desires that wait in our hearts. You’ve told us to ask and never give up.*** Thy will be done. We love and trust You ever more.

*Mark9:24

**Lamentations3:20-22

***Luke18:1

By Lynna Clark

A gardening rule I’ve come to appreciate is this: When combining plants in a large container always use a thriller, a filler, and a spiller. The thriller is the plant that stands tall and gives presence. The filler is usually understated and fills in the gaps. The spiller flows gracefully over the sides adding beauty. Here’s a little example from my porch. What I really love about this combination is that it was all free. The tall bromeliad was a gift from my sister a few years back. It bloomed a giant red blossom and I hear it’s still got the potential to bloom. Right now, I’m not so sure. It seems to be content with just standing tall in the background.

The middle plants with the dark purple and gray stripes are Wandering Jew. My friend Ann broke off a few sprigs of that and I kept it indoors in a bottle of water over winter. Now it fills in the gaps nicely.

The bright chartreuse vine in the front is a sweet potato plant which also lived on my windowsill over winter. Together in the beautiful pot my daughters gave me, the combination is kinda pretty, especially for no money spent. Don’t you love making something out of nothing?

Some of us are still waiting to bloom. A lot of us are just glorified weeds. Some feel completely unnecessary. But the lovely blue pot wouldn’t be nearly as attractive if any of the parts were missing. I think it’s the combination of different strengths and weaknesses that makes the prettiest bunch.

Whether you stand tall, fill in the gaps, or spill over gloriously showing off God’s goodness, you are a beautiful part of the garden of grace.

“How strange a body would be if it had only one part! Yes, there are many parts, but only one body. The eye can never say to the hand, ‘I don’t need you.’ The head can’t say to the feet, ‘I don’t need you.’ In fact, some parts of the body that seem weakest and least important are actually the most necessary.”

-1Corinthians12:19-22

The Inheritance

By Lynna Clark

My beloved mom-in-law passed away a few weeks ago. She was such a beautiful soul. And funny… oh my word! The things she would come up with. She had special names for certain things in her life; like the big white robe she wore in the winter. Often she warned us not to be alarmed if we saw a polar bear ambling around her house as it was just Big Bertha.

When she could no longer walk with just the assistance of a cane, she began using a walker with a seat. It had a little basket where she would load her gardening tools as she puttered around the yard. Inside the house she would load it with cleaning supplies or laundry for that long trip down the hall. She dubbed it her “Cadillac.”

She had a pink blouse which she always wore to the doctor. More accurately it was mauve, that dusty rose color which was popular in the eighties. Her daughters tried every way they could to get her to wear something besides that godawful shirt as it did her no favors. However she always went back to it. Though mauve is code for ugly, she brightened it with her smile.

We’ve begun cleaning out her home of over fifty years. You can’t even imagine the treasures we’re gleaning. So far we’ve only gotten to the kitchen. We checked expiration dates on the foods in the pantry and laughed so hard at the things she hung onto. David suggested that if the date began with the words “In the year of our Lord,” we could probably assume it was too old to consume. In the back of one especially low cabinet was an unidentifiable figure. It appeared to be a dried corpse of an animal from yesteryear. David’s sister bravely pushed it into the floor with a broom. The four of us stood hovering over it trying to make out what it could have been. David finally scooped it up with the dustpan and took it outside. It was larger than a squirrel and had a funky shape. The sisters told me I could have it as part of my inheritance. I was more than thrilled.

Later as I thought again about the dried up mystery animal, I remembered bringing Nina some driftwood from the beach many years ago. She had expressed wanting a piece to put a little ceramic bird on that I had brought her the year before. Apparently the two treasures never met as she always had lots of projects in the works. In fact that bird is probably buried somewhere in her craft room which our middle daughter lovingly renamed Nanny’s Crap Room. It is an accurate description and we can hardly wait to go through the treasures there.

What I love about Nina’s kids, Jo, Gail, and David, is that they’ve been able to maintain their mother’s great sense of humor as we do the necessary things. No pushing, grabbing, or resentment; just working together to honor their mother’s last wish of having a happy home. The closest we’ve come to fighting so far has been over a pack of bacon.

Very graciously I have been included in the dividing of assets. Along with the driftwood shaped like a varmint, I’ve been given her cement pineapple which was always her southern symbol of hospitality. Though I do not share that same sentiment, I love that she did. I tucked it by my side entrance behind a large hosta lest anyone get the wrong idea. You know how I feel about entertaining visitors I do not know. All you “angels unaware” might as well fly on down the street to someone more Godly. However, if you do happen to knock on my door, don’t be surprised if I’m wearing a mauve shirt. Too bad it didn’t come with Nina’s sweet smile.