Praying Psalm 23

Lord, You are MY Shepherd.

I have every single thing I need, and plenty besides!

You allow me to rest in peaceful places. You gently lead me into thick grassy meadows. I lean on You and rest in Your care.

You renew my strength when I have nothing left. When cancer and sickness sap every ounce of energy I have, YOU dear God are the lifter of my head.

You guide me along right paths bringing honor to Your Name. Yes Lord! Make it so!

Even when I walk through the darkest valley…

Like when we lost our first grandson before he took a breath; when sickness took hold of our frail bodies; when we lost our ‘forever home’ and the security of our jobs, I admit… I’ve been really afraid at times.

But You dear God, YOU are faithful. You are close beside me! I know You are with me even when I can’t feel Your presence.

Your rod of protection will strike down my enemies. Your staff of comfort will keep me on the right path. You treat me so well that those who doubt my walk with You have to admit how blessed I am.

You honor me! Why in the world would You do that when You know what’s in my heart? I don’t understand why You’d pour oil on my head. Is it to heal my wounds or to give me a glimpse of days ahead when we rule and reign together?

My heart overflows with the joy of Your presence! You alone are so good to me!

I have no doubt that your goodness and love will track me down all the days of my life. When I think of being pursued by the One Who knows me best, my heart overflows!

And THEN I get to live in the home You’ve lovingly prepare just for me!

OH GOD! How blessed I am to know You! Praise Your sweet holy Name!

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Dream Big. Pray Bigger!

Have you ever had a big dream?

Not one of those nightmares where you can’t find a bathroom; or worse, you forgot your Aldi quarter.

No, this would be a dream that sets your heart on fire with hope.

I used to dream of opening a bakery slash coffee shop. It would be a place where friends would meet to enjoy homemade baked goods with a hot cup of comfort. Everybody would know everyone else’s name… kind of a Cheer’s without beers.

Someone approached me about opening such a place in my home town. The building and finances were available. I was so excited! David and I drew up a floor plan and included a private room off the back where folks could have Life Group meetings. Often we pulled into the parking lot of my future coffee shop and prayed together that the Lord would work out the details.

I began collecting recipes and trying out new desserts on friends and family. Someone gave me a huge industrial mixer. Another friend who owns a coffee shop in Lexington spent time sharing advice on managing such a place. He even had a very expensive industrial cappuccino maker that he gave me to try out at home for a while. With his help and the help of my daughter who had previously owned a bakery, I drew up a business plan. We tossed around names for the shop and searched the internet for ideas. I talked with city officials as well as the health department so we would do things in the correct order.

We continued to pray for God’s blessing and guidance. I dreamed about that place night and day. Our goal was to have it up and running in the fall of 2010.

Then the wheels fell off.

Finances for the coffee shop fell through. Plans were pushed to the back burner. But it no longer mattered as my health deteriorated. I had quit my job of twenty years at the front desk in a small school to pursue my big dream. Suddenly I couldn’t work at all. In fact, I could barely function or do stuff around the house without being in a great deal of pain. Though we still pulled into the parking lot of the empty building to pray, it no longer seemed right. We had our answer. Like a dump truck load of reality, the wisdom we asked God for came. It was not His will for us to pursue the dream.

I have to say, I was sad for a while. It’s hard to hear the word no. My idea notebook was tossed aside. Little by little I gained peace of mind regarding the project. Red flags popped up here and there causing me to give thanks that the plan fell through. On the days when I hurt too much to get out of bed, I praised God that no one was counting on me for their cuppa joe. That could’ve gotten ugly!

Eventually we pulled into that parking lot one last time and said a prayer of thanks as we let the dream go. Praise God He is wiser than our big ideas, even when our best intention is to glorify Him.

I was reminded of that difficult time in our lives the other morning. A squirrel had dreamed of how wonderful it would be if he could get the top off our bird feeder and crawl inside.

So he did.

Then the lid snapped shut and he couldn’t get out.

I hate to admit how hard I laughed. Finally he was able to poke his head through the top and scamper out.

One of the mantras going around right now is “Dream Big.”

It’s fine to dream. But it’s wise to pray bigger. God might save us from crawling into something where the lid snaps shut and we can’t get out.

Only by looking back can I see that He saved me from a world of grief.

Praise God! He is wiser than our dreams.

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I’m So Thankful!

September 29^th, 2016 was my last big chemo treatment… the kind that makes a person instantly old. After that came the “lesser” chemo every three weeks; surgery to remove a cancerous tumor and eleven lymph nodes; then thirty radiation treatments. All that was completed this past June followed up by hormone therapy. Hopefully those drugs will keep the devilish disease from returning.

Praise God I lived to tell about it! Now I have sense enough to really be thankful for things I missed while going through treatment; Simple things like sleep. I rest so well now that I’m back to snoring loud enough to rattle the windows. In fact, I’m so loud that I may be responsible for the zombie movement since I surely wake the dead.

I’m thankful for food that I used to love but couldn’t stand the taste of while taking chemo. Things like coffee, chocolate and fried chicken that David makes in his mom’s old electric frying pan. Oh how wonderful. He skins it then soaks it in milk, rolls it in flour and the crust is to die for! I even love the wonderful aroma of it cooking. Last year I would hurl at the thought. David literally lost twenty pounds while I was sick because he tried not to eat in front of me. Well, that and a boatload of worry when I prayed stupid stuff like, “Lord Jesus! Just take me home!”

Bless his heart.

I’m thankful for friends and family. Though I loved these folks before, something about a friend stopping by with a new nightgown she happened upon at Marshall’s’; brown sugar bagels from Panera’s; a new hat and a funny story… it felt a lot like love. One day I found a bright red picnic basket outside the door filled with lotion, lip balm, a funny coffee mug, garden clogs and flip flops. Just thinking about being strong enough to walk outside and have a picnic or work in the yard felt a lot like hope.

I’m thankful most of all for so many prayers and messages telling me often that folks were praying for me. In a time when I couldn’t process the words of Scripture, though I knew they were true, others lifted me up. A pastor friend stopped by and I told him of my struggles. Having been with many folks going through chemo he related that one of them said his brain was so foggy that reading the Bible was like reading a can of soup. It meant nothing. The pastor’s kind words helped me past the guilt I was experiencing to an understanding that God had not left my side. It felt a lot like faith.

I’m thankful for David. I knew to be thankful before I got cancer. But something about having a husband who cleans up behind a grown woman who is too sick to make it to the bathroom in time really shows what a man is made of. Again, bless his sweet heart. His kind example of faith, hope and love felt a lot like grace.

And lest I spiritualize things too much, I have to admit that I’m thankful for hair. Apparently God looked down at the curly bob I’ve worn since the eighties and said, “Enough of that girl! You need a new doo!” He grew it back, curled it not quite as tight and even gave me a few sprigs to pull toward my ample forehead. I imagine He smiled at His work and said, “Not bad for an old chick.” I know it’s vain, but I can’t even tell you how happy I am to finally have hair. It feels a lot like joy.

I have to say, I think I owe my life to you. Remember the story in the Bible of the men who carried their friend on a cot to Jesus? The place was so crowded they lifted him onto the roof. I reckon they had a pulley system of some sort. They removed the roof tiles and let him down right in front of Jesus. Luke 5:20 says that Jesus healed the man and forgave his sins when he saw the faith of his friends.

When I was so weak I had to be carried, you my friends lifted me up to the Lord in prayer. You faithfully asked Him to heal me. Praise God He did! It feels like faith, hope, love and grace rolled into a great big bundle of joy!

Yes! I’m so thankful!

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WOOHOO PART TWO!

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.

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Hold My Hand

It was spring break and I had to get home. My boyfriend David drove me to North Carolina in his ’67 Camaro. I was in so much pain. When the prescribed dosage of medication didn’t immediately kick in I took a couple more, climbed in the backseat and basically passed out. It was at least a sixteen hour trip home from south Florida. Thankfully his buddy Barry Dyson was riding shotgun and helped him stay awake. My sweetheart would get me out of the car every time he stopped for gas, hold my hand and lead me to the ladies room. Being the perfect gentleman he waited outside then put me back in the car when I wandered out. At least that’s how he tells it.

I don’t remember a thing and didn’t wake up til we hit Charlotte. David, who is now my husband of forty one years, probably wishes more trips were like that. He could just stop for gas, push me into a bathroom and keep on trucking. No yammering from the little woman about the urgency of the situation and the importance of choosing “somewhere clean.” Sorry honey. I’m all out of drugs.

Once we got home my parents took me straight to the doctor. That idiot put me in the hospital… for ten stinkin’ days. I tried to relay to him that I needed to get back to school plus had a wedding to plan. He kept me there doing all kinds of tests, until it was too late to return and finish my freshman year. They found nothing; no slipped disc, no disease, no reason for the pain. David returned to school. The pain continued and I was mad. The cards poured in… so many sappy cards with happy words about all this crap working for my good. It was sickening.

My youth pastor came every day at lunch with a sack of burgers and fries. Now THAT was a spiritual experience. Occasionally a funny card would arrive at just the right time and make me laugh. That was kind of spiritual too for it gave a small measure of relief. One day however a pretty card caught my eye. On the front was a soaring eagle. The verse from Isaiah 40:30-31 which says even young people will grow weary got my attention. It went on to say that those who wait on the Lord would not only run and not get tired, but would walk and not faint.

Apparently God had been reading my bitter soul. If only I could walk and not keel over. If only I could dress myself and stroll down the hall for crying out loud. Who cares about flying and soaring and running? I would gladly take waddling without assistance.

Opening my Bible to the passage I wondered what would be the key to the strength promised there. Stink! If there’s anything I hate worse than being weak it’s waiting.

Apparently strength comes with the waiting. I didn’t much like it. I still don’t. Not many people do.

Chances are you’re waiting too; maybe for a spouse to change, for healing, for a prodigal to come home; maybe for financial deliverance. It is hard to wait. It’s in our framework to fix things. It is our culture to be self-reliant. We take pride in making things happen. God in His great wisdom however, gives us reason to look to Him and say, “I give up. I have no resources or power to make this better. I have only You.” He answers sweetly in Isaiah 41:10.

“Do not be afraid, for I am with you. Do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you. I will help you. I will uphold you with my victorious right hand.”

The pain I experienced as a youth has grown worse through the years. But I believe by God’s grace, that I have grown stronger inside. At least now I don’t feel like cussing when someone tells me how all this is working for my good. Well… at least not as often. Waiting is still hard and I long to be well. But if it’s not time for me to soar just yet, I want to be content just holding His hand.

Even more comforting is the truth that it is He Who is holding mine.

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Boldly Go

The woman looked awful. A sudden migraine drop kicked her into that terrible place where she thought she might die and wished she’d hurry up. She wobbled to my office window and requested a sub. First grade teachers cannot leave all willy-nilly just because they’re dying. Everyone knows death for a teacher requires at least a two week notice.

“Yes!” I assured her. “I’ll find someone to fill in for you until a substitute can get here.” About that time, my sweet husband happened by to see me. He had walked over from the middle school during his planning period. “Hey Huuuuunnnney… could you please watch her class for a few minutes?”

When the longest forty-five minutes of his life were finally over, again he stopped by my office. “How’d it go?” I asked sympathetically. Like Arnold Schwarzenegger in Kindergarten Cop he responded, “They were HORRIBLE. They pat you with their sticky little hands. Why do they do that?”

It seems my sweetheart was not designed to meet the needs of tiny people. Gladly he’d endure the purgatory called middle school. But never again would he willingly subject himself to the abyss known as elementary.

With another school year starting, I’d like to extend my great appreciation and a backpack full of “Bless your hearts” to the educators. I must say, you remind me of Jesus… except that He didn’t have to do bulletin boards.

People pulled and tugged and confronted and accused and begged of Him continuously. So. Many. Needs. I bet the children even patted him with their fishy little hands. Yet He kept opening His weary arms to accept the least of these.

I find it interesting that while “vast crowds came to hear Him preach and be healed of their diseases,” Luke 5:16 gives us a little insight into Jesus’ strategy for coping. He “often withdrew to the wilderness for prayer.”

Don’t worry. This is not where you’re guilted into adding one more thing to your very long list. Take this as an observation from an old chick who served amongst the good, the bad and the ugly for five years in one school and twenty in another.

Prayer changes everything.

No, you probably won’t have time to withdraw to some hidey hole where thou shalt kneel for a quiet “sweet hour of prayer.” But a mindset of bringing a child or family before the Lord as you’re dealing with them really helps. If your prayer sounds like, “Lord help little Pookie Bear lest I shake him til his teeth rattle.” God knows his need… and yours. I promise. I’ve seen it firsthand. Prayer changes everything. Mostly it changed me. Besides I figure since Jesus Christ, the perfect Son of God prayed often, we might benefit from a cry for help too.

So thank you dear Teachers.

Lord help you dear Assistants.

Bless you dear Office Personnel.

There’s always one that has to be different.

God love you dear Principal.

What a wonderful calling you have! To bring out the best in so many lives! Like Captain Kirk on the Starship Enterprise, may you boldly take others where they have never been before!

And like Jesus, may God give you strength to open weary arms to the very least of these.

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Perhaps it’s a Southern Thing

It might be a Southern thing, parking buggies nose to nose in front of the Prilosec at Walmart sharing deep personal issues.

Guilty as charged.

I try to stay out of Walmart because I don’t function well there. Something about crowds and long walks between the raisins and the hair gel ticks me off. How spoiled am I? Nothing against Sam Walton or the fine folks who work there. Thankfully the company has provided much needed jobs for lots of folks who might otherwise be unemployed.

But could someone please shut off the video ads in the aisles so us old people can think?

Annyyywayyy…

I bumped into a dear friend whom I’ve not seen in approximately seven to ten. I know what you’re thinking. Either she just got out of prison or she’s not really that dear if I’ve not seen her in that space of time. You would be incorrect on both accounts. We just got busy living life and forgot how much we like each other. Or I could be incorrect and she’s been avoiding me all these years. Hmmm…

So right there in Walmart with buggies nose to nose we talked about wayward children. Not mine of course, as they are all perfect. Through tears we shared the angst of parenting and how it seems that we raise our children to be strong and independent and above all to think for themselves… until they do. That’s when the defecation hits the oscillation.

How dare they question the belief system we’ve poured into their hearts and souls? What is that about?

I loved the wisdom she shared through her pain.

“I’m asking the Lord to take me out of the way of His plan.” She spoke with tears. “For if I can just stay out of His way, He will work this out.”

Wow.

That has become my own desire as well. If I can own the fact that He has a plan which includes me, but doesn’t depend on me, all manner of crapstorms shall be avoided.

So Lord, take me out of the way. Let Your will be done. Work through me as Your tool of grace. You love drawing all men to Yourself. Help me to never get in the way of that.

And please cure the lady of heartburn who tried her best to get something over the counter without interrupting our visit.

Thankfully that is also a Southern thing.

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The Rest of the Story

It was the first day of Spring. We had just received the terrible cancer diagnosis for my beloved mom-in-law Nina. The first surgeon she visited spoke words we were not prepared to hear. “I can’t do surgery because if I were to take all of the cancer out I would not even be able to close you back up.”

I began gathering photos of Nina in preparation for… I cannot even speak the word.

Anyone who knows her also knows that she hates having her picture taken. Therefore the task would not be easy. Oh we had plenty of pictures, but nearly all of them have her wagging a finger in the direction of the photographer with a death threat hanging in mid-air. This woman is not to be trifled with. I joked with her one happy day that if she didn’t stop putting the stink-eye on those trying to capture her pretty image we’d have to resort to using all those ugly photos at her memorial. That would teach her!

Beautiful silver hair frames her lovely face. Her skin is smooth and nearly wrinkle-free. She and her son joke that all the butter they consume keeps the wrinkles pushed out from the inside. She was able to attend the graduation of her granddaughter Desani where someone snapped a gorgeous picture of the two of them. She showed it to me and said, “When I die just Photoshop my head onto all those other bad pictures.” Note to self: Never try to teach Nina a lesson.

For those of us who live in Salisbury, Dr. Black is a household name. He and Nina go way back. He’s treated many members of her family for cancer starting with her husband. Even now while Dr. Black is in the midst of trying to retire he’s committed to treating Nina’s sister until the end. The only criticism I’ve ever heard her speak of him is that she cannot understand why he doesn’t wear socks. Something about his naked ankles has always been a little disconcerting to her. Nina has baked him and his staff many a pan of brownies. She was saddened to hear of Dr. Black’s retirement, but took right up with his associate Dr. Brinkley. Perhaps the fact that he wears socks gives him cred. She loved him immediately because he joked with her and understood her sense of humor. The three of them have a running disagreement on whether brownies should contain nuts or not. Dr. Black poked his head into her exam room one day and said, “Don’t you let him talk you out of putting nuts in the brownies!”

What will Salisbury do without Dr. Black?

What will we do without our beloved Nina? My heart grieves at the thought.

Last Spring I wrote a story called Daffodils of Hope which ended with a request that you pray for her. Here’s the rest of the story. Dr. Brinkley immediately started breast cancer treatment which has shrunk the tumors so much that everyone is amazed. Nina has had no terrible side effects, has not had to endure chemo or radiation. We had no idea such a hormone therapy existed. At this point it’s looking like she may not even require surgery. God willing, Nina will be celebrating her ninetieth birthday on Christmas day.

Never once did Dr. Brinkley treat her as though she were too old to hope. With each visit he listened intently as she and her children asked questions and relayed symptoms. In fact he listened so well that at times there was actual silence in the room as he processed our concerns. How rare is that? If you know the Clark clan you’ll certainly appreciate that abnormality.

Thank you doctors Black and Brinkley for treating her and many others so well. Thank you to all who prayed for our beloved Nina.

And thank You Lord that I won’t have to be learning how to use Photoshop anytime soon.

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Better Than Gold

Remember when folks used to celebrate anniversaries with traditional gifts according to the years of wedded bliss? Silver for the twenty fifth and gold for the fiftieth are probably the most well-known. I remember when my Grandpaw and Grandmaw Pittman celebrated their fiftieth they received all manner of “gold” crap. Somehow it just didn’t fit their life. Raising twelve kids on a cotton mill income didn’t give many opportunities to use shiny vases and platters. However, celebrate we did and I remember how pretty Grandmaw looked in her white Sunday dress. She even tied a scarf about her neck which was rather uptown. I guess the gifts of gold were symbolic of something I didn’t understand at the time.

David and I just celebrated forty-one years of marriage. Even Hallmark skips number forty-one as though the significance is minimal. Lost somewhere between rubies for forty and sapphires for forty-five, I received something even better.

You see the last ohhh… about fifteen years have been rather rough. Around 1998 we remodeled the prettiest old house which in my mind was to be our forever home. Right beside our little church, it was the perfect location to finish raising our kids. With a great big dining room we would have plenty of space to gather our three daughters with future sons-in-law and grandchildren for holiday meals. The attic we finished with additional bath would make a great place for overnight stays when the kids were in town. Visions of toddlers on tricycles riding fast and furious in the big basement made my mama heart happy with hope.

But it was not to be.

Our little neighborhood began to lose families which were replaced by, as King James would say “lewd fellows of the baser sort.” Residents beside us opened a dog kennel housing upward of twenty barking poodles in a very small fenced lot. The odor was less than pleasant. Nights were less than restful. A year later our little church closed.

When a neighbor a few houses up from us was shot and robbed on his front porch the need to sell was confirmed. Moving from our “forever home” to a tiny rental would only be temporary, but it would give the anxious buyer a chance to rent to own. It would also give us a way out. Fast forward eight years and two such “buyers” later, and we are still in our temporary home. Our forever home was foreclosed on in the summer of 2013. A few months later David lost his job. We sent resumes to churches all over the country as we tried to pray in “faith without borders.” I began getting rid of anything we didn’t need in anticipation of the inevitable move. “Lord help us,” I cried often.

Out of the blue just prior to our forty-first anniversary came an opportunity we had never considered. One interview, two interviews, many prayers, more prayers, surprise, provision, peace… sweet indescribable peace, and a new ministry is ours. And get this! We don’t even have to move!

“‘I will come and do for you all the good things I have promised and I will bring you home again. For I know the plans I have for you,’ says the LORD. ‘They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope. In those days when you pray I will listen.’” –Jeremiah 29:10-12

This year for our anniversary I got dirt… wonderful rich black dirt so we can make new flower beds in the place where we’ve been afraid to get too attached. Like Grandmaw’s gold it’s symbolic of something precious. Dirt fits our lifestyle perfectly for it’s all about putting down roots and new beginnings in a place we can now call home.

In fact, this is without a doubt my favorite anniversary gift ever!

 

David really loves it when I take his picture. 😉

 

Commercial break:

Anyone in the Salisbury- Rockwell, NC area in need of an awesome gift for the little woman, be sure to check out F&E Landscape Supply for great deals on mulch, gravel, and anniversary dirt. John Fender will treat you right!

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Empty

The page before me was blank, like my heart. Nothing would come.

Empty.

With a loss, we go through various emotions. I think one of the hardest might be emptiness.

I remember when our little church closed and we knew it was time to give the building to others who needed it. Walking through the sanctuary, knowing our time there was finished…

Oh, such emptiness.

When my mom died and I knelt by her grave, arranging flowers in the heavy metal vase. I shivered not so much with the cold, but with deep sorrowful emptiness. Sure, she is with the Lord and certainly better off. But my soul was empty.

We rode by our beloved house one last time. We wanted to speak to the tenants before it was auctioned off, maybe have some sort of closure. The trees out front dropped golden leaves spreading a blanket on the lawn. All the vehicles were gone. Even the lawnmower they kept chained to the tree was missing. I used to love that place. Sitting on the big front porch we often prayed for our little church next door and wave as the neighbors walked by. As I knocked on the glass door I could see through the lace curtain.

Empty.

Anyone who’s ever lost a job knows the feeling. The first few days of not having to set an alarm feel like vacation. Then suddenly there’s the office to clear out, and the questions to answer, and the direction to find. Emptiness can nearly suck the life right out of one’s soul.

Unless…

Emptiness is replaced.

Not because things are suddenly better.

But because the Lord gives something to hold on to… a sweet word of hope.

“For I am about to do something new. See, I have already begun! Do you not see it?” –Isa.43:19

Like a new season which bursts forth dressed as a thousand burning bushes. She shines like a fire that won’t go out reminding me that, “For everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven.” –Eccl. 3:1

In the Lord’s kindness He speaks a word of hope. His comfort fills my empty soul with promises of a beautiful purpose ahead, and something new.

Should I linger on the porch, peering into what used to be?

Perhaps it’s time I realize…

He’s taking me through empty places…

in order to give me something beautiful and new.

Dear Sweet Lord, Please set our hearts on fire like a thousand burning bushes that won’t go out! Strengthen us to step out of the emptiness and walk by faith into a fresh new place of service. Thank You that Your mercies are new every single morning of our lives. We love and trust You evermore!

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