Lynna Clark

Living Off the Land

by Lynna Clark

Did you miss the holiday? No, not Mother’s Day. You can’t miss that if you watch television at all. Every jewelry store on the planet makes sure to remind us. Last Saturday was not only Cinco de Mayo, the day for which we stock up on limes and avocados and don’t know why. It was also Naked Gardening Day… according to our cousin Michael. The event seems to be an important one to him as he always reminds us of it on Facebook. Thankfully we don’t live near the man as we choose not to observe the holiday. Our garden is not that big. We did however get our binoculars out and keep them handy in case our neighbors decided to celebrate.

Though we didn’t observe any tiptoeing through the tulips, we did discover a family of groundhogs. The daddy is huge and looks like a bear when he stands on his hind legs. Not like a Kodiak but more like a miniature brown bear with a long tail. His fur is reddish and fluffy but I was not fooled by his cuteness. A few summers ago either he or one of his cohorts stripped the leaves off my mom-in-law’s tomato plants leaving only a naked stalk. The daddy groundhog’s wife is gray and smaller. She tends to make her way over to our yard when she notices the truck is not in the carport. The ground there is soft and dusty and she seems to enjoy rooting around in it for some reason. I nearly soiled my undies the other morning when I stepped outside unaware of her presence. She stood on hind legs as if questioning my being in her space. So I did what any normal person would do. I barked like a dog until she waddled home on her short chubby legs.

Sorry. I have no right to make fun of anyone’s short chubby legs. [Yet another reason to refrain from observing Naked Gardening Day.] I must add she was surprisingly fast for such a plump creature. She scooted her fluffy body under the neighbor’s shed and peeked out at me. Even with binoculars I couldn’t see through the lattice where she hid. I envisioned her gathering her one pup near her side and warning that if a person acts that strange, especially in broad daylight, they probably have rabies.

Hopefully she will not be back. This is the first time David has tried having a little garden in a long time. All he wants is a good tomato sandwich, a few cucumbers for pickling, and a couple zucchinis to make bread. Is that too much to ask? It only cost us $537 to build a raised bed, haul in good dirt, pay the kid next door to help us unload it, and buy the few plants.

Oh and cages for the tomatoes. It makes me laugh at how tall they are compared to the tiny plants inside. David looked at them the other day and spoke with his dry humor. “Somebody has high hopes.”

Yep. We are determined to eat something from our backyard this season… living off the land and all.  I just hope it’s not groundhog.

Home Sweet Salisbury

By Lynna Clark

My friend Ann picked me up in the Red Rocket. She’s a sturdy ol’ gal. I’m speaking of the 1995 convertible. Bless her heart. She’s got a lot of miles on her but she’s still so much fun.

We tooled down the road toward another friend’s new home out in the country. When we realized we were on Old Concord instead of Faith Road, my driver whipped the car around in the road. The Red Rocket was now pointed in the opposite direction.

Soon we came to a four way stop. Remembering the wisdom of Kent Bernhardt, Ann prepared the universal sign of displeasure while I locked eyes with the man to our right. Of course we’d arrived at exactly the same time. Technically he had the right of way. But something Kent forgot to include in his instruction is the Southern Gentleman Factor. The nice man politely nodded in our direction.

“Punch it Margaret!” I directed my driver. She did so never having to deploy the recommended sign. For that I was thankful. Since we didn’t have the top down and my current medication gives me terrible power surges, suddenly I was hot: and not in a good way.

Dang hormone therapy.

Okay… so it’s old age and my glasses fogged up. I sipped the ever present Gingerale I carry due to my “condition.”

“Can I have some air?” I asked as I fiddled with the buttons on the dashboard.

She stuck her finger in a hole and tried to turn the missing non-knob. I’m just glad the hole she tried was not a cigarette lighter or her glasses might have fogged up too. Anyway, after a bit we decided to roll the windows down. Apparently the Red Rocket is not used to such hot women.

It felt good to visit our friend who is building her new house. Ann and I yacked like a couple old hens all the way there and back. She confessed that she just found out she has a cataract. Silently I thanked God that when things get foggy for me I can still take my glasses off.

“There’s Brandon!” I pointed at a truck sitting at a stop sign. Once again Ann whipped the Red Rocket around in a very questionable U-turn. She is related to my son-in-law and wanted to catch up. “Call him!” she directed.

“Uh… he’s a plumber. I’m sure he doesn’t want to talk to his mother-in-law in the middle of a busy work day.”

Ann continued to follow the black truck with the big silver tool box making at least six turns behind him into a new development. Before I knew it we were parked beside of him with our windows down. I looked at the man who was now blocked in his truck by the Red Rocket.

“OH! Sorry…” I mumbled.

He wasn’t Brandon.

“Punch it Margaret!” I instructed my getaway driver. She did so and we found ourselves at a muddy dead end with very little space to turn around. That small fact did not deter my friend. With the skill of a NASCAR driver she eased between construction vehicles and somehow pointed us once again in the correct direction. A few moments later we rode past the stranger in the black pickup with the silver tool box… again. He looked at us rather oddly.

I can’t imagine why.

I just hope the story he tells his wife includes something about two hot chicks in a red convertible that chased him down. Though we were not in a flatbed Ford, perhaps he will envision himself on a corner in Winslow Arizona. If I were him, I’d leave out the part where neither old lady could see past her nose.

Yep, we’ve got a lot of miles on us. Thank God we still know how to have fun.

By Lynna Clark

What’s your default setting? Where do you go when nothing makes sense? Do you have a happy place that re-boots your psyche? Christianese would say, “Run to Jesus.” So how do you do that when the bills pile up, the pain is great and prayers seem to go unanswered?

A good friend of mine who struggles with depression will watch a funny movie. Another friend finds great solace in his deer stand. He can sit in the forest on a cold, frosty morning for hours. David will take a long ride on his motorcycle through the quiet countryside. He calls it therapy. Me? Take me to the beach. Give me a day watching the waves and suddenly I’m good for another couple months.

The sweetest story is recorded in the last chapter of John. Seven guys were together after witnessing the horrible death of their friend. Even though they had seen Him alive, and realized that God had raised Him from the dead, their future was very uncertain. Unmet expectations, fear of the unknown and the lingering question of “What now?” made way for hurt and doubt.

Peter reveals his default setting with “I’m going fishing.”

His friends joined him. But after fishing all night their nets were as empty as their souls. With dawn breaking a stranger called out to them the ageless question.

“Catching anything?”

“We’ve got nothing,” was their reply.

“Throw your nets on the other side,” came the familiar suggestion.

With nets suddenly full, memories of provision and care filled their weary souls. Once they hauled in the bounty, they made their way to the shore where Jesus was waiting. There He had a hot breakfast ready for them. Can He get any sweeter?

Here is the Lord of glory, Who has just conquered death, Who understands their fear and emptiness, cooking breakfast on the sea shore for His weary friends.

He’s kind like that. It wasn’t enough to call out a greeting; or to fill their boat with fish; or even just appear to them again in order to let them know everything would be okay. Nope. He cooked breakfast.

That is a picture of our Savior: Grace heaped upon grace.

Just when we cannot take another thing, He sends what we need to fill our empty souls.

Hold on my friend. He will be calling to you shortly. Don’t feel bad if you have to look to Him and reply, “I’ve got nothing.” He already knows. He’s cooking up something special that will be just what you need.

A couple of friends talked over the events of the last few days as they walked along. Sadness was written across their faces as they admitted, “We had hoped…”

Hoped, past tense.

As in, we used to hope, but not anymore.

Have you been there? Have you gone through something so hard that your soul is crushed beyond repair? Someone you love has suddenly been taken… and way too soon. The spouse you trusted tossed you aside like an old shoe. Something you planned and even dared to dream about died, leaving you…

Hopeless.

That’s the feeling of the friends who traveled down the road together. Having witnessed the horrible death of the Person they had closely followed, their hopes were just as dead.

Where do we go from here? How will we ever recover? Is all we’ve believed in been wrong?

A few miles later, they realized they were in the very presence of the risen Lord!

That first Easter morning changed everything.

The powerful Son of God stepped from the grave to prove the hopeless wrong. Since death cannot defeat Him, how could anything else? What could separate us from the love of God?

Our fears?

Our loss?

Our worries?

Things changed in an instant! The moment He was raised from the dead, hope was forever restored! Do we dare to trust Him?

“O death where is thy victory?! O grave where is thy sting?”

Thank God! He gives us victory over sin and death through our Lord Jesus Christ!

All creation shouts with joy on Easter Sunday morning! Our Creator lives, and reigns with power over any circumstance that brings suffering to His beloved ones. With the strong arms of a Shepherd, He reaches out to pull us close to His heart as He gently leads us home. Not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love as we walk in the presence of the risen Lord!

Praise His sweet holy Name! Our conquering King lives!

And there is hope!

He looked through the woods as we drove. “Easter comes early this year. I wonder if the dogwoods will be ready?”

Like him I hoped so. They are such a beautiful picture of grace.

Have you noticed how much Jesus loved visuals? As He spoke of worry, He pointed to wildflowers. Instead of just saying that God would provide, He referred to the birds. I bet it gave Him much pleasure to create the dogwood.

Look at this stunning visual of His sacrifice. Each cross shaped blossom displays blood stained “wounds.” Each center exhibits a “crown of thorns” as if the very heart of God shouts, “This is My Beloved Son in Whom I am well pleased!”

Let’s fall to our knees and worship this God Who draws us to Himself.

All heaven and nature point to Him.

How can we do less?

“For God made Christ, Who never sinned, to be the offering for our sin, so that we could be made right with God through Christ.” -2Corinthians5:21

“O God be merciful to me, for I am a sinner.”

Our firstborn lives in the Midwest. We visited by phone one morning on her way to get groceries. When she stopped for gas, I heard her say to the screen on the pump as she pushed the buttons, “NO, I do NOT have a rewards card. NO I do NOT want one. NO I DO NOT care about saving money. YES! I need a receipt! What? Now you’re out of paper and I have to go inside? Do you not know it’s 3 stinkin’ degrees out here? STOP with all the questions! Just give me the gas for crying out loud!”

Her door slammed and her voice returned to her normal pleasant tone.

“Hey Mama. How are you? How was your week-end?”

“Are you freezin’ Darlin’?” I laughed at her misery. According to my phone it felt like negative 11 in Ramsey, Illinois where she lives.

“It’s so COLD!” she confirmed as she cranked up the heater hot enough to singe the hair off her legs. Except I’m pretty sure she was wearing several layers of britches.

“It snowed the whole time we were in church yesterday. Our cars were covered when we got out. Then last night we had a fellowship meal and wondered if anyone would come. We had a great crowd and a really good time!”

I smiled at my daughter’s cheery disposition, well… minus the whole gas pump thing. She is one of the most positive and encouraging people I’ve ever known.

Her oldest daughter had a wreck last week in South Carolina where she attends college. Thankfully it was not her fault. Someone ran a red light and did several thousand dollars worth of damage to her vehicle. Stephanie was saying how thankful she was that Mykaela was not seriously injured.

“She’s pretty sore, and very shook up. Her car isn’t drivable, but they gave her time off from work. The other person’s insurance has been amazing and very helpful. It could have been so much worse.”

I glanced out the window as she told me about the things on her plate for the next few days. To me it was overwhelming. She’s writing a VBS curriculum, planning her sessions for a ladies retreat, and putting the final touches on a Girls’ Conference hosted by her church this week-end.

I looked at the mud that’s puddled up all around our house. The yard is so squishy it’s hard to get to the bird feeder, or anywhere else for that matter. It poured down again last night. I hate all this rain and silently wondered if it would ever end. Her words broke into my thoughts.

“Jeff and I spoke at a couples retreat for pastors and their wives this past weekend. It went really well, even the games. I came up with a Jenga game where we told something encouraging about our spouses and churches according to the stickers we drew. It was so much fun!”

Personally I’d rather stick a fork in my eye than play games which also require sharing my soul. I hate to admit it but I may be entering the early stages of Crudmudgeonry.

Another glance out the window revealed tiny birds taking a splash in the puddles under the feeder. They seemed as happy as-if they had good sense.

Cheerfully she informed, “I’m at Aldi’s in the parking lot. But the Jeep is really warm now. We can keep visiting if you’d like!”

I couldn’t help but smile as Stephanie continued. One can learn a lot from birds… and daughters… especially when they bring their own sunshine.

March 4, 2019 by Lynna Clark

I really hate whining. When our kids were little I’d stop them in mid-crisis to inform: “Mommy can’t hear you when you whine.” One of them commented when she had her own children, “I think I was an adult before I realized: you really COULD hear me!”

Now that I feel the need to whine, I’m not sure what to do. I try to keep my writing as genuine as possible. So I need you to know. I am hurting. Even a gentle hug is painful.

Did I ever tell you that I have a mystery disease? Pain grips my body at times with such fierceness that I am knocked onto my ample rear end for days. Last week was one such time. I was in so much pain I had to have help getting out of the recliner. I don’t know why. This ailment began over forty years ago when I was just a kid in high school. At least that’s the first time I remember being in unusual pain for no particular reason. I grew up around water where we jumped in the murky depths of Lake Norman from the family pier. One particular day when I sank into that cold water I really thought I might die. Slowly I climbed back onto the pier and rested in the sun. It seemed to help. Since my parents also had a “no whining” policy, I never said a word. Later when I went off to college things got worse. By the spring of my freshman year I was in such terrible pain I could hardly get home from south Florida. A doctor there gave me some pain killers so I could make the sixteen hour trip. And I figured if one pill was good, a couple more would be better. My fiancé David and his buddy Barry loaded up the Camaro, checked on the girl passed out in the back seat, and drove me home. I landed in the hospital for two weeks of tests. Frankly I was glad. Finally we’d get some answers! They took x-rays, spinal fluid, did an experimental test called a myelogram where they shot dye into my spine and searched for anything abnormal. Nothing showed up. According to them it was all in my head.

As I said before that was over forty years ago. That’s a long time to wander in a desert wishing for an end to the painful journey. During those years I’ve experienced every kind of emotion a person can have. Last week the full gamut of feelings hit once again. Tears, anger, exasperation, self-pity, you name it. I could not function. I was so mad I threw things. Okay, so it was another cancer bill I was sure I had paid, but clearly I was not the picture of style and grace.

In case you’re going through something painful too, I want to give you permission to whine. Even as I write that I cringe. I still really hate whining. However, God knows your heart. He’s a great listener! Plus He gets it. He knows that you and I are just dust. And if nothing else, some of us are going to enjoy heaven waaayyy more than others. Maybe then He’ll smile as He whispers, “Finally child! You’re in a place where whining is not only absent, it’s no longer necessary!”

Then He’ll hug us as tight as He wants. And it won’t even hurt!

My hubby had a motorcycle for a while and was wise enough to take a safety class at the community college. The instructor said something that stuck with David as he was learning to ride. “Be careful of target fixation,” he advised. “When something dangerous occurs, rather than focus on what you DON’T want to hit, focus on where you want to go.”

In other words, if a dog runs out, aim down the road past it and you’ll be less likely to wreck than if you’re looking at the dog. In the fifteen or so years that David rode, he wrecked one time. A sharp curve on a bumpy country road came up way too fast and all he could see was the barbed wire fence he would hit if he didn’t make the curve. He became a victim of target fixation. Thankfully he walked away to ride another day.

Eventually he convinced me of how fun it would be if we could ride together. So I mounted behind him on the cinderblock they call a passenger seat. We rode to the beach, to the mountains and many a country road especially in the spring when the trees first start to bud. The aroma of wild wisteria throughout the woods is so pleasant. Then the smell of fires burning in the fall has a way of bringing the senses to life. I really loved it.

One day we rode up to a state park which included a small mountain range. It was a gorgeous day for a picnic. Before we headed down the mountain I was happy to find a restroom. While David waited for me, he was actually solicited by a pimp who offered to lead him to a camper where a good time would be had by all.

Sorry delicate readers. I realize you just went from a peaceful overlook with a picnic to something disgusting. But that’s exactly what happened. Yes, broad daylight, North Carolina, beautiful park, and lewd fellows of the baser sort. I do not make this stuff up.

When I emerged from the bathroom, David took my hand and hurried down a steep hill covered in about a foot of loose wet leaves. Suddenly he stumbled a bit and turned his ankle. We sat on the side of the hill as I silently wondered how we’d get home. I had no idea how to drive a motorcycle. He didn’t tell me about the earlier solicitation until later. He was probably afraid I’d jerk a camper door open and express my hot displeasure. Thankfully his ankle was strong enough to drive and no harlots were harmed in the making of this story. But I decided to take my own motorcycle class in case I ever needed to drive.

I did way better than I expected. Of course the bikes used in the class were very little compared to ours. But I could maneuver it through the cones with ease. The instructor yelled at me to go faster, so I did. What he didn’t realize was that I couldn’t figure out how to stop. I was last in line and everyone else had parked neatly side by side waiting for me to finish. I saw it before it happened and I could not look away. Everyone scattered as I plowed right into the row of bikes knocking every single one of them down. As warned earlier, I became a victim of target fixation.

Writer Adam Holtz received the same warning in his motorcycle safety class. His instructor wisely added, “Where you’re looking is the direction you’re going to go.”

Have you been knocked on your rear lately? As Mr. Holtz says, “Scripture encourages us to look past our problems to the One Who can help.” In fact, Philippians tells us to focus on one thing: Forget the past and look forward to what lies ahead.

Sometimes we just can’t fix things. Instead of a picnic with a scenic view, ugliness comes out of nowhere. There is only One Who knows our future. He alone will get us safely home. Set your eyes on Him. He is worthy of our focus.

Glimpses

February 19, 2019 by Lynna Clark

Occasionally, if we’re watching, we get a little preview of Heaven. It’s as if God pushes back the clouds of pain and uncertainty to give us a picture of His over-the-top love. A few weeks ago we were blessed with a trip to Cherry Grove. Though it was early February, the Lord poured out warmth and sunshine just because He can. I thought you might enjoy a small glimpse of His glory.

“And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep His love is.” –Ephesians 3:18

Posted in Faith | Tagged Beach, God’s love, heaven | 5 Comments » S

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Lynna Clark

“I danced like no one was watching. My court date is a week from Thursday.” I spotted that on Facebook and had to laugh. Apparently all advice is not wise. My mom told David to rub Icy Hot on his forehead when his sinuses acted up. The poor man still weeps at the memory. That stuff lit him up!

How do we know when advice is good? One person may warn “Look before you leap!” while another will advise “He who hesitates is lost.” Which is true: “Absence makes the heart grow fonder” or “Out of sight, out of mind”?

One of the best bits of wisdom I’ve ever received came on a hot pad given to me forty-five years ago. It said, “My house is clean enough to be healthy but dirty enough to be happy.” I think my mom-in-law gave it to me because she knew how crazy I could get trying to keep things spotless. While that seems noble enough, if it makes the rest of the family dread being at home, then it’s not wise. So I chose happiness over being able to eat off the kitchen floor. Therefore if you stop in for coffee sometime and your muffin inadvertently rolls across the lovely linoleum, take my advice and toss it. I’ll get you another one.

All three of our girls have their daddy’s great sense of dry humor. Plus we have to be intentional about reigning in our wonderful gift of sarcasm. It just flows all willy-nilly; except probably for Stephanie, our eldest. The girl is so kind. I guess that’s how she ended up marrying a pastor who also has a sharp wit. [That’s code for sarcasm]. They balance each other out nicely. Recently when we were going through a set of hurtful circumstances, we recalled her wise words. “God does not waste pain.” Though she had shared that particular truth several years ago, we realized again how valuable that wisdom is. I wrote her words on a notecard and placed it near my “nest” where I would see it often.

Our middle daughter is just as spiritual, but a wee bit more… direct. Her advice to me during a rough patch where I couldn’t seem to make anyone happy sounded like this. “Don’t set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm.” It was exactly what I needed to hear. And as a people pleaser it continues to be a great reminder. A card with her words is right beside her sister’s so I will remember that it’s not my job to keep everyone happy.

Underneath those two quotes is another I heard on a fishing show. A couple guys make a living showing others how to fish without a bunch of paraphernalia. Their motto is “Do Simple Better.” I like it! Currently we’re trying to simplify by decluttering our lives. It feels so good to get rid of stuff we really don’t need. We are learning to do simple better.

While writing this I realized our youngest daughter, though very wise, had not been quoted. I messaged her requesting a sound bite. Apparently it has been a hard couple days for she responded, “I’m sorry but I have no wisdom at this moment. It’s been a wisdom sucking kind of week.” Sometimes the best advice is to say nothing at all.