Stop the presses! I did it! NO WAIT! Don’t stop the presses. Keep rolling because ALL my books are now in print! Check them out on Amazon. Search books by Lynna Clark. I am NOT that other Lynna with the big bosomed women on the covers… obviously. So be sure to look for the Blue Meadow Farm series of five. And if you like them, please spread the word for me. I do not have a marketing guru so I’m counting on you. Thank you my friends!

Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?

To view the series click here. Blue Meadow Farm Series

The series starts and ends with a dogwood tree.

The old hymn we sang had a line in it I didn’t understand. “He hideth my soul in the cleft of the rock, and covers me there with His hand.” Later I asked David if it referred to something in Scripture. He told me the story in Exodus where Moses had become so angry at his people that he actually threw the tablets containing God’s commandments down breaking them into pieces. Though I was familiar with that, I wasn’t aware that shortly afterward, Moses wanted God to continue with them so much that he begged God to show His presence. The Lord comforted Moses and spoke to him as one speaks to a friend. In order to convey His goodness He agreed not only to continue with the Israelites, but to show Himself to Moses.

“Look, stand near me on this rock. As my glorious presence passes by, I will hide you in the crevice of the rock and cover you with my hand until I have passed by. Then I will remove my hand and let you see me from behind. But my face will not be seen.” –Exodus33:21-23

What a picture! What power and glory was shown to this beloved friend of God!

Just as I had overlooked the beautiful picture in the Old Testament of God’s power, I had also read right past another truth about His power in the New Testament. Ephesians 1:19 is a surprising passage about God’s power for us who believe Him. It is described as “the same mighty power that raised Christ from the dead.” Can you imagine? The incredible greatness of God’s power that raised Jesus Christ from the dead is available to us through Him! No wonder the enemy of our souls continually beats us down with insecurities and reminders of our sinful selves. He knows what is available to us if we understand this amazing Truth.

The same power that raised Christ from the dead is available to anyone who claims Him as their Savior! Wowee! Shall we jump a couple pews together?

So what does this mean to me personally? Can I claim His power and be healed this very moment of the cancer that has knocked me on my ample rear end? I have an infusion appointment later today so should I just skip it? Do I toss the basket full of medications I’ve been taking for the last eleven months?

This is where we mess up in our human understanding. While it was His beautiful plan to raise Christ from the dead by His incredible power, it was also His heart wrenching purpose to allow His only Son to be put to death.

All for us.

We cannot face a holy God in our sinfulness. By trusting Him we can be clothed in the glorious righteousness of His Son Jesus. Then by claiming the same power that raised Him from the dead we can face the minor inconveniences this world tosses our way, like cancer. And if cancer happens to win this temporary victory, so what? I get to spend eternity with the One Who has the power to raise the dead!

Praise God that He covers me with His nail pierced hand!

photo credit: Seabert Pittman, my sweet daddy


Guess what. I did it! I totally did it. I feel like a little girl on the swing set calling out. “Watch daddy watch! I can skin the cat!”

Sorry cat-lovers. That’s not a literal skinning of a feline. When I was a kid that’s what we said when we could hold the bar and flip over between our arms without falling onto our heads. And if one could manage to pull back through and land on one’s feet, we were putting the skin back on.

Of course that was about a hundred years ago and folks don’t use such terms anymore. So let’s compare my latest accomplishment to diving. I’d lunge head first off the pier into the muddy water to impress my daddy. It was either that or he’d hold me by the ankles over the river and drop me so I’d learn that it wasn’t that hard. He was correct. Water didn’t shoot up my nose like it did when I jumped feet first.


Drumroll please.

I got my first book into print! As-in actual words on real paper you can hold in your hands, PRINT!  People! You can dog ear the pages and come back to where you left off without powering anything up or remembering a password. You don’t even have to recall the name of your first pet or your grandmother’s favorite vegetable. You can just relax, read and repeat. Hopefully the only thing hard will be putting it down.

I couldn’t figure out how to make the cover the same as the Kindle version so it will look a little different. Something about the gigawatts of the first picture with Hannah on the tractor; it wouldn’t translate. Can you tell how un-savvy I am in the technology department? That may give you a little insight as to how hard it was for my chemo brain to format the pages to fit within the six by nine inch frame including margins. It even has page numbers! Can you believe it?

Did you know that the space down the middle between pages is called a gutter? Who knew? All my life I’ve been warned to keep my mind out of there. Now I know how.

So hop on over to Amazon and search Lynna Clark or Blue Meadow Farm. Under Book One there will be a Paperback option. Click there and you’ll see the yellow book with blue flowers. I really hope you love it. Remember, it’s the first book of a series of five, so take your time and enjoy. I’m already working on book two for print so it shouldn’t be long until it’s ready too. And if you’re willing to help a struggling rookie author, please leave a comment or review either on Amazon or Facebook so others will notice my work.

Thanks so much for your encouragement!

Have you ever gone through a situation or been sick so long that you hate life? You’re just sick and tired of being sick and tired. Or maybe something else has sucked the joy from your soul.

We’ve been going through a crap storm since the spring of 2013, long before I got cancer. I won’t rehearse all the lovely details of our very interesting life. But I will say that just in the last few months the transmission in our only vehicle gave up the ghost. By the time we finished, the replacement/repair cost almost as much as the Bluebook value. Yep. That’s how we roll. And David has had reoccurring kidney stone attacks that are so painful he thinks he might die and wishes he’d hurry up. Hopefully this is not too graphic but he passes dozens at a time. The pain is so bad he actually breaks out in a cold sweat and heaves like there’s no tomorrow.

Meanwhile, it seems my innards love cancer and want to invite it back. So in an effort to thwart that evil plan, my doctors are trying different medications and hormone therapies. I’ve been so sick and so dizzy that I can barely function. Along with the numerous drugs also comes depression. I’m talking full blown, straight from the pit of Hell, hopelessness that grabs my soul and pulls me into a dark hole so deep I hardly care if I ever see the light of day again.

One day I got a text.

Our granddaughter needed a place to stay during spring break. Since she lives in Illinois, but attends college in S.C, she thought it would be great to hang out with her N.C. grandparents for about a week. She planned to explore Salisbury and assumed I’d be a great tour guide. That’s when I realized we are opposites. She loves being in the mix while I love being by myself. However, she burst through the door like Tigger, bouncing from room to room exploding all over the house with laughter and energy I am no longer accustomed to. She jumped from behind a door scaring the pee out of me and I squealed like a little girl. As she held her side laughing I pointed a finger in her face and warned that if I keeled over with heart failure she’d better put a hat on my head before the paramedics came.

She found a gift basket that I had not unpacked to suit her. From it she pulled a book about thriving during cancer. With a hand over her heart she read with the voice of a sappy narrator, one cheesy saying after another, similar to this:

“When God closes a door He will open a window.”

She had me laughing hard enough to do the potty dance. Eventually she gathered her things from every room, crammed them in a bag, hugged me too hard, and headed back to S.C.  As we waved goodbye, she happily munched on Chex Mix made by her Poppy, set her GPS, cranked up Spotify and put the nose of her Jeep in the wind. As I walked through the house checking for fall-out, miraculously I only found one sock cowering under the bed. I prayed she’d be back for it soon.

Mykaela aka Tigger

A week later her mom Stephanie, our oldest daughter, came to stay with us at the end of a women’s conference she had spoken at. Her local sisters also came for the day. Though I can think of nothing more encouraging than having all three of our daughters here with me, surprisingly depression hit again that night. As Stephanie gently tried to help me through it, I rehearsed all the things I was currently thankful for and wondered why despair had consumed me. She wisely commented.

“Like a headache that comes and you have no idea why, depression is similar. Stop beating yourself up and feeling guilty for something you have no control over.”

I pondered her words and prayed for help as I cried myself to sleep still wondering why.

The next day her daughter skipped class and came up to visit her mom whom she hadn’t seen since Christmas. Once again she had me laughing as she read the little book full of cheesy words to her mama. I gave her the dusty sock, hugged them both goodbye a little harder than I normally would’ve, waved til they were out of sight and prayed.

“Lord, with all the sick and discouraged people in this world, help me to do three things. No, make that four. Help me make somebody laugh, for laughter really is great medicine. Help me to have a listening ear and a gentle word to relieve someone’s burden. But most of all, keep my lips from a multitude of verbiage and cheesy platitudes which don’t help.

And PLEASE give me wisdom enough to refrain from stuffing my ample rear end through a window just because You happen to close a door.

I just discovered that we have a new neighbor. He’s rather shy, but curious enough to venture from his home into my yard. I heard a rustling in the brush at the back of the lot so I opened the door to look. Apparently I surprised him because he quickly returned to his own home without pausing for an introduction. In fact, he moved a lot faster than I expected for a fat guy with short legs. I’m just sayin’. He could’ve said the same about me had I been the one on the run.

He stopped and pulled himself up to his full height and looked my way. When he noticed that I still had him in view he dove under a storage shed. I didn’t mean to scare him. Maybe I should’ve left my ball cap on.

When David got home I told him about our new neighbor and we looked out back. Sure enough, there he was, waddling around in the yard next door, glancing up occasionally for busy bodies who might want to mingle. He must’ve noticed us because once again he dove under the shed.

I understand. I’m not real social either.

I couldn’t help but wonder though. We live in the city on a busy road, so where did he come from? Was he really a she and did she have a family under that shed? Was she just venturing out to check the weather? Typically groundhogs have one job to do and that’s just one day a year. So was she having second thoughts about her earlier prediction?

According to the News & Observer report from Raleigh, NC and their groundhog Sir Walter Wally, we are all set for an early spring. So far that prediction has been correct. And according to the folks at the Weather Channel, Wally is ranked seventh most accurate rodent in the whole nation! He is correct 58% of the time which outranks his more famous counterpart Punxsutawney Phil who is only 37% accurate.

I wonder what my new neighbor thinks about all that. Is she as happy as I am to be waddling around the yard seeing daffodils, yellowbells and crocus blooming? [Is it croci when there are more than one?] Or is she like me, content just to hole up without interaction?

I sure hope so.

I’d hate to have to dive under a shed.

New Every Day

Reflections from a few years back still hold true today. Everyday is different, but praise God He remains the same!

Lynna's Wonderful Life

My daddy has such a love for sunrises and sunsets that he’s taken approximately a bojillion pictures of each. Every single one is different. I thought I’d share a few of his great shots with you. He makes it a point most every day to enjoy the magnificent explosion of color during his morning walk and again in the evening.sunset 1197

I love that about my daddy.

There is something glorious about a sunrise. It’s as though God paints a beautiful reminder in the sky for all mankind to know that He is with us on this fresh new day. Then as the day closes, another masterpiece emerges across the heavens in case we’ve forgotten that He’s still near.

“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.” –Psalm19:1,2

Devotional writer David Roper says…

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Home Sweet Home

Bluebirds are scoping out their new digs this morning. My friend Randy brought me a house on a pole last year with a plastic pipe around it so snakes can’t slither up. For days now the bluebird couple has patrolled the area by sitting in the crepe myrtle looking in every direction before entering their new place. Last year I had the pleasure of watching two families emerge from that house as they taught their babies how to fly. I was hoping some of them would remember their cute little starter home and return this year. It looks like they have. Thankfully they are not nearly as picky as us humans.

Is it just me or do you get sick of watching folks on television hunt for a house and turn up their noses because there’s not enough room for “entertaining?” Who are these people who entertain so often that they need a ton of space? God forbid that one would have to pull up a chair from the kitchen or sit on an ottoman. Put the kids on the floor for crying out loud or do like my mom-in-law always threatened. Bang another nail in the wall and hang the extra bodies there.

And what’s the deal with stainless steel appliances? I remember the day when my sister, God love her, had an avocado stove with a harvest gold hood, and a white refrigerator. I vaguely remember an almond colored dishwasher. Her countertops were bright sunshine yellow. Every kitchen drawer was skewed sideways and there was no rhyme or reason to finding anything. But her house was the place everyone loved to gather! Every Thanksgiving, Christmas, summertime cookout or birthday party she’d pipe up and invite, “Let’s have it at my house. No trouble!” She’d pull out the plastic tablecloths, set up little eating areas all over the house, and tell everyone to grab a plate. We’d start at one end of her galley kitchen and serve ourselves buffet style. The threat of being trampled was real, but no one ever went hungry.

For years and years my sweet mom-in-law has hosted in a similar fashion. I think there were around forty or so people at her house Christmas Eve. Everybody knows where she keeps the TV trays. The littlest kids eat at the coffee table or the fireplace hearth. Sure stuff gets spilled. That’s why she has the carpet cleaned AFTER Christmas instead of before. Maybe the difference between these dear ladies and the house hunters on television is that while some seek to entertain, others just open their doors and say, “Come on in and have a seat if you can find a place for at least half a butt cheek.” I’ve got a feeling that one of these entertaining styles is a lot more fun than the other.

I just checked the status of my bluebirds. They have moved on, probably checking out other options. Sure wish I had a way to tell them how valuable that plastic pipe will be when their babies hatch. But I’m sure they’ll figure it out. Any birdbrain knows that keeping the family together is way more important than showing off a perfect home.