Lynna Clark

By Lynna Clark

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!

You can read about the friends traveling to Emmaus when Jesus suddenly appeared and walked with them in Luke 24:13-34. Romans 8:1 helps us understand that we are no longer condemned by God when we trust His Son as our sacrifice for sin. There’s more about His great love for you personally in Romans 8:23-39.

Call out to Him. He’s waiting for the time when you and He can walk the broken road of life together. This wonderful God of all creation longs to adopt you as His very own. What a “Blessed Hope!”

By Lynna Clark

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.“

Praise God for His beautiful Son!

By Lynna Clark

“Hey man! Don’t be takin’ my donkey!”

That’s what I would’ve said if a couple of strangers came up to my house and started untying the family beast of burden. I mean, how will we get the firewood home, or take grandma to prayer meeting? You can’t just go around taking people’s donkeys.

“The Lord needs it.”

That’s what Jesus told his friends to say when He sent them to fetch the donkey. Apparently that’s all it took. The owner had no problem sending his valuable property with strangers. He wasn’t promised a great return on his investment. He wasn’t promised the donkey would be brought back fed and watered… or even returned at all.

All he knew was that the Lord needed something he had.

If I had a donkey, I can hear myself reasoning…

“Sorry guys. It’s the only donkey I’ve got. You’re gonna have to find yourself another mode of transportation. I just made the last payment. Had to finance it for six years, but finally it’s all mine.”

“What? The Lord needs it? The Lord has everything. What does He need MY donkey for?”

I’m afraid me and my donkey would’ve missed the Jesus parade… the only one He ever had.

In fact, I think I would’ve missed a lot of things.

I don’t believe I would’ve climbed a tree to get a better look. People would surely laugh at a grown woman in a tree.

I wouldn’t have called Him up for a night time meeting so He could answer my questions. Folks might talk.

I doubt I would have given my lunch to Him when everyone realized it was time to eat and there was no food. What good would my little pitiful sack lunch do?

And I KNOW I would not have stepped out of a perfectly good boat to go traipsing across the water. Who would take such a risk?

Not me.

In fact, everything is just fine the way it is. So Lord, I’m here for You… right here in my cozy house, with plenty to eat, and my nice warm bed, surrounded by things and people I love, with my precious donkey safely tied outside.

Hmmm… Sounds like a parade off in the distance.

I wonder if I’m missing something.

By Lynna Clark

Mama was especially thrifty. Not stingy. There’s definitely a difference. Nowadays they call it frugal, cost efficient, or even “green.” Mama was all of those and then some. For example, there was always a half a Q-tip in the Q-tip box. She’d use one end, and the other end would still be clean, so she’d break off the dirty end and pitch it out, saving the clean end for some small task at a later date. I remember daddy saying, “Claudia. If you’re gonna use just half, why not use up some of the halves already in there?” She’d respond with a look that said, “Don’t mess with me!”

She made a chicken pie from scratch with only a small amount of chicken. There were no vegetables for in the pie, so she used sliced boiled eggs instead. We always seemed to have eggs. She made biscuits for on top out of flour, oil and milk. These she placed over a homemade sauce. Baked up golden brown, this was the picture of comfort food. It has always been one of my favorite meals, I think mostly because mama could make something wonderful out of very little.

My junior year in high school, I needed a dress for the Christmas dance. We shopped for the perfect pattern, and picked a silky fabric of purples mingled in a beautiful tie dyed design. She made the long version for the dance then shortened it afterwards so I could wear it to church. I loved that dress. It fit perfectly, and was way prettier than anything I could have found in the department store. Mama helped me to look and feel as special as any girl at the dance, even though times were very hard.

Not too long ago, we had the difficult task of going through her things. She died of a rare disease, and the Lord took her in a matter of only two months. It’s still hard to believe that she’s gone. She was the youngest, strongest, and feistiest seventy-two year old I have ever met, except for maybe my daddy. As we went through her scarves, there was that beautiful purple tie dyed pattern. She had saved the bottom of that dress and made a lovely scarf out of the scraps. What a sweet reminder of my mom, who could always make something very special out of nothing, and who passed that joy down to me.

And yes, I have a dish in the bathroom with Q-tip halves if you ever have the need.

Happy Birthday Mama! I sure do miss you. I miss the fun you always planned for us on holidays, like getting little flags for all the grandchildren on the 4^th of July. And your Cherry Yum-Yum made to look like a flag with blueberries in the corner; I laugh when I think of the time our new son-in-law Jeff ate all 50 states in one fell swoop. Or the Halloween you and daddy dressed up like old people and came trick or treating.

I miss how you organized our beach trips and fed about a thousand of us for only $50 per family. I miss being able to call you for advice on sewing or cooking or kids.

I miss hearing you sing with the grandchildren songs like “Two Little Eyes” and “Little Red Box.”

I miss watching your excitement at hiding Easter eggs even when our kids got old enough to turn the hunt into a full contact sport.

I miss going to your house and watching you and daddy banter back and forth until you called out “Seabert!” to him which signaled you had had enough.

I miss getting cards in the mail addressed in your handwriting, knowing you and daddy had laughed so much in the Hallmark store you feared getting kicked out.

I miss hearing you talk about church and the hot dog sales and how much hamburger it takes to make chilli for a hundred.

I’m sorry I can’t bear to visit your grave. But I know you understand. You’re not there anyway. I’ll see you again and we’ll catch up on our visits. I think of you often, especially when I use a permanent marker, or a piece of your Tupperware with Claudia written on the bottom.

I miss your pretty white hair and your beautiful smile and your cute little ball cap with Myrtle Beach on the front. Actually I have it, but I can’t wear it because David mistook me for you one day and nearly had a heart attack. He especially misses you when he makes pancakes like ya’ll used to do together at the beach.

We all miss you mama. Enjoy your day. And know that we love you.

By Lynna Clark

Looking forward to a day at the beach, we were greeted with this sign:

Oh dear. Suddenly I don’t feel much like relaxing. You mean there could be a tsunami? And when it comes, am I supposed to run like the little man in the picture? What if I can’t get out of my chair fast enough? What if I am busy watching the water, wondering why it is suddenly pulling away from the shore? What if I can’t find my flip flops? What if I jump up and run as fast as my short legs can carry me, but it’s not far enough? How far will a tsunami go ashore? Should I get in the truck and hope it just washes over everything, then recedes, leaving me a nice air pocket, while setting the truck upright on all four wheels? What if I can’t run to the truck, get it unlocked, climb in, and shut the door in time? What if David has walked down the beach with the keys in his pocket? Maybe I should just plan on swimming it out. I used to be a pretty good swimmer. I earned all the badges at the YMCA as a kid except the last one. I bet that’s where they taught you what to do in case of a tsunami. Oh why, oh why didn’t I take that last class? Seems like I had strep throat but I could’ve toughed it out. Why didn’t I come prepared for this? Now here we are at the beach without a plan.

“Don’t worry about anything; instead pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank Him for all He has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.” –Philippians 4:6,7

Thanks Lord. I needed that.

By the way, Lord, will you punish the people who decided to spell tsunami with a “t?” That is just wrong.

By Lynna Clark

“I like your big panties,” my sweet friend said. Everyone at the table stopped talking. The look on my face said, “Holy cow! Did I forget my britches?”  I stammered out the only reply I could muster. “I thought I had those covered up…” and of course I had to gesture the wide unfurling of a parachute sized pair of underwear.

“Your big PANIES” she clarified. “Did you grow them?”

“Ohhh…. my Pee ON eeze. Yes! They came from my backyard.”

Our British friend at the table spoke. “I think it’s pronounced Peon EEZE.” As he spoke the word flowed beautifully off his lips like honey. What is it about a British accent that immediately garners respect? Maybe that’s why all the movies about Bible stuff have Jesus speaking with a British accent.

I wonder if a portrayal of the Sermon on the Mount would sound as wise if it were written by a Southerner. The young man playing Jesus would speak while sitting on the back of a pickup truck. The hair and beard would be the same, but that accent would NOT work!

“I know it’s hard bein’ poor, bless your hearts. I have been there ‘n done nat. Ya’ll know I’z born in a barn? But doncha worry none. Your daddy in heavin is makin a real nice place for ye.

And a lot of ya’ll are hungry rite now, but someday you’ll be fullerna tick. Some of ya’ll are sheddin’ some tears up in here. But sumday ya’ll gonna be laughin yer heads off.”

The feeding of the five thousand would’ve seemed less of a miracle too. Southerners never forget to bring food, and that’s about the same number that attend homecoming.

Then if Jesus went with His disciples out on the lake, they would’ve been in a real nice bass boat. His question of “Did ye bring any bread?” would’ve been answered with, “Yep! We got biscuits and cornbread and hushpuppies. Take yer pick!”

After they fished all night and didn’t catch anything, Jesus might have advised, “Change up yer jig and throw over in ‘at buncha grass growin’ up air inna cove.”

Peter might’ve shouted, “Oooowee! Look et all ‘em bream, and catfish, and crappie! Man, at the bass! They’re all keepers! We are gonna have us a fish fry to NITE!”

We probably won’t see that version at the box office any time soon, praise God.

As I carried the big bouquet of peonies into the memorial service, I passed a young man who spoke his admiration as well. “Wow! What beautiful roses! Did you grow them yourself?”

I guess a peony by any other name still smells just as sweet.

By Lynna Clark

I take great pride in keeping my home neat. It’s not always clean, but it is tidy. There’s a bright tablecloth on our little kitchen table, with a fruit bowl or flowers. Dirty dishes are placed in the portable dishwasher as soon as they’re used. David and I are the only ones here and the house is so tiny that it only takes a minute to make it neat.

However, last Monday we finished a long day and crashed. The tablecloth was dirty so I tossed it on the floor toward the laundry room. The dishwasher was full and in front of the kitchen sink hooked up to run. David wasn’t feeling well so he grabbed an old sheet and quilt then hit the recliner sofa. The week before, he moved to a new office and had pulled books off our shelves, sorting stuff in piles on the floor. Our house was unusually trashed.

Books were not the only thing to hit the floor that night. About 2am, he got so violently ill that his blood pressure bottomed out. I found him passed out on the bathroom floor and had to call 911.

As I jerked on clothes, described his symptoms to the dispatcher, and prayed my sweetheart wouldn’t die, I ran to turn on the porch light and open the side door. Lickety-split my little upside down house was filled with firemen and paramedics who do not know what a respectable housekeeper I am. Wouldn’t you know it! The one time…

This is where the wise person would tell you that none of that matters now that I know David is okay.

While that is very true…

The next day I found myself cleaning the house top to bottom, rearranging the bookshelf, spreading out a clean table cloth, washing all the linens, disinfecting the floors, and thinking of a reason to invite the emergency guys back for a do-over.

Perhaps if I bake a cake to thank them for their great efficiency and kindness…

This time the 911 call would sound like this:

“911. What’s your emergency?”

“Oh… no emergency. Is the same crew working that worked Monday night?”

“Yes ma’am. Is this the lady with the messy house?”

“They TOLD you that?”

“Yes ma’am. They were appalled. Apparently there was a pink striped sheet on a red sofa. Sounds hideous!”

“Could you please send them back? I have cake!”

“No ma’am. They said if you ever called again to tell you they would not return to such a pigsty.”

“But… but I have cake.”

“No cake in the world would entice them back. They also told us about your bedhead. Said you looked like a woman in a bad wig wearing clothes with yesterday’s coffee stains.”

“Sigh… it’s true. It was bad. Sorry I called…um… have a good night.”

“You too ma’am… because they are not coming back.”

Mama always said to wear decent underpants in case there’s an emergency.

You know… they did not even check our underpants!

Thank the good Lord.

By Lynna Clark

Fishing with much younger buddies at the Outer Banks, daddy lept over a steep washed out shoreline into the surf. Snatching up the twenty-two inch puppy drum which had fought its way off the hook, he made his way back up the embankment to the amazement of his friends. My brother-in-law Milton said he caught sight of daddy in mid-air as he took quick action not to lose the catch of the day. One of the guys asked, “How old did you say he is?” “Eighty!” he responded as they all shook their heads in wonder. Daddy’s a little bit amazing.

He called me last night and we had the best visit. He wanted to thank us for the Veterans’ Day card. I said, “Thank you daddy, for your service!” His reply was puzzling to me.

“I never have thought of myself as ‘serving.’ But I guess somebody had to do it. I was just on an aircraft carrier during the Korean War. I didn’t really see action.”

Everyday heroes are my favorite. Folks who just do whatever’s needed without any fanfare. Steady in the day to day, serving behind the scenes, making things easier on others.

Maybe you are that person.

Someone’s day is better because you made coffee. No big deal, except for the person who needed the coffee. [You may have saved a life or two!]

Your wife has a happy heart because you made dinner.

Currently you’re teaching your toddler where her nose is. That’s sure to come in handy one day.

Your pastor is not quite as weary because you gave him a word of encouragement.

The prisoner you know has a little speck of hope because you dropped him a postcard.

Everyday heroes are my favorite…even if they aren’t agile enough to snatch puppy drums from the surf.

My always interesting daddy!

“Lord, when did we ever see You hungry and feed You? Or thirsty and give You something to drink? Or a stranger and show You hospitality? Or naked and give You clothing? When did we ever see You sick or in prison and visit You?”

“And the King will say, ‘I tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you were doing it to Me!” –Matthew 25:37-40

By Lynna Clark

I was in the midst of changing clothes when my beloved walked in. “It still looks a little jiggly,” he stated. My head came up and my mouth flew open. “I beg your pardon?!”

“The pie,” he said. “The timer went off, but I think it needs more time in the oven. It’s still a little jiggly.” He turned to go before I could hurl a shoe at his head.

I guess we’ve all been misunderstood before. Especially now with so many words flying around on social media. It’s almost like we have to dissect every comment we make to be sure we don’t offend someone. While that’s not a terrible thing, it would also be nice to experience a little grace. There’s a word used in the old KJV that I love. Forbear. I had to look it up because it’s a bit outdated. Wait. I DID NOT say the King James Version is outdated. What I meant was, the word forbear is not used in everyday speech that often. But its meaning is sweet. Forbearance is “out roofing” or covering for someone when they need a bit of grace. I get the picture of standing by a friend in the rain and covering them with an umbrella. I like it. I know I need that grace an awful lot since I’m such a wordy wordsmith. In my limited understanding it seems to be like giving someone the benefit of the doubt. Instead of suspecting ulterior motives, just assume the better option.

When I was telling my daughter about her father’s untimely comment, she asked, “What kind of pie?”
I shook my head and thought, “So that’s the part you picked up on?” It was a strawberry custard and turned out delicious. While I am struggling health wise, David is learning to bake. He’s always been a fabulous cook, but now baking too? What a man. Perhaps that’s why some of us are a bit jiggly.

Annyyywayyy… here’s the recipe.

Right now, while strawberries are coming in from not so local places, they need a little forbearance. So slice and sprinkle them with sugar. While they rest, preheat your oven to 425 and make the custard.

Combine and beat with a whisk until frothy:
3 eggs
2 c. milk
1 t. vanilla
1/2 c. sugar
1 T. cornstarch
pinch of salt
Drain strawberries well so your crust doesn’t get soggy. Spread berries into two unbaked pie crusts; Pour custard mixture over berries. Place pies on cookie sheet for easier movement to oven, then bake at 425 about 15 minutes; reduce heat to 325 then bake 30 or so minutes more. Insert a knife to see if the custard is set or if it is still jiggly.
In the meantime, let’s practice this:

“With all lowliness and meekness, with longsuffering, forbearing one another in love;” -Ephesians 4:2 KJV
“Forbearing one another, and forgiving one another, if any man have a quarrel against any: even as Christ forgave you, so also do ye.” -Col. 3:13 KJV

Like strawberry custard, forbearance is a sweet treat; especially if you don’t mind things that jiggle.

By Lynna Clark

What is your default setting? Where do you go when nothing is making sense? Do you have a “happy place” that re-boots your psyche? Christianeze would say, “Run to Jesus.” So how do you do that when the bills pile up, and the pain is great, and prayers 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 there in the cold, frosty morning and watch the forest for hours. David will take a long ride on his motorcycle through the quiet countryside. 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. And even though they had seen Him alive, and had the realization 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 net 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. And He had a hot breakfast ready for them. Can He get any sweeter?

A HOT BREAKFAST!

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 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.

And He’s cooking up something special that will be just what you need.