Laced With Grace

I have an ornery side to my character.

It’s my Dad’s fault. No. Actually it’s my Dad’s, Dad who is at fault. I hail from a long and silly heritage of practical jokes and teasing of family members.

Good Grief!

Right now let me publically state my apologies to my family. They have lived with my hare-brained antics now for years and have accepted my need to giggle at their expense as part of daily life with Lynn.

My poor husband after 18 years of marriage still stumbles into my outrageous humor set-ups with full trust. However, he has come to love this oddball side of my charm. *grin* He laughs right along with me. My son and daughter, poor kids, well, they have already inherited this family disease. I already feel sorry for my future grandkids.

I’m telling you about this quirk in my personality to bring you into our family dynamic in hopes you might appreciate the humor and the wonder of the story I’m about to share.

Two weeks ago after dropping my daughter at school, I came home and went into her bedroom to get her dirty clothes to start the wash.

What is it with teenaged girls? It must have been another fashion crisis meltdown that particular morning. Clothing lay crumpled on the floor, flung around the end of her bed and in the giant pile of shoes in her closet. Sheesh!

Feeling charitable, I decided to hang the clothes up. As I was working a shirt onto a hanger, I heard the padded footsteps of my husband. We live in a single story home with several hallways. He was perusing the hallways looking for me. After 18 years of marriage, I know this man well. He doesn’t yell… (like me, HEY, HONEY, WHERE ARE YOU). He doesn’t even call my name. He walks. He paces. He searches and when you’re married to an ornery blonde like me, his search efforts are futile.

Ahem.

So, I hear the pacing of the man. I grin to myself and move farther into my daughter’s room to see just how long it will take for him to find me. Nothing like an impromptu game of hide-n-seek in the morning to tickly my funny bone. Yessiree. I stand in my daughter’s room and continue to hang clothes in the closet. My concealment is perfect and my husband continues to walk the halls.

I hear my husband open the door to the garage. Nope.

I hear him walk the hall by my office again. Nope

Next he walks into our bedroom…. For the second time. Nope, not here.

At this point, I’m struggling to conceal my glee at his wanderings.

Finally, I decide the poor guy needs to get to work so I make some noise in the closet.

He picks up on the clue and moves directly down the hall toward me.

He rounds the corner of my daughter’s bedroom and I start giggling straight off.

I love this man. He’s not mad. He’s actually just glad to find me. He starts to laugh and then holds out his hand to show me something.

He shyly says, “ I found your glasses in our bedroom after searching the entire house for you twice.”

I grin.

He says in a half serious half kidding tone, “I thought you were raptured.”

I rush to him and throw my arms around him, “Oh honey, did you think I was raptured without you?”

He didn’t really reply. But we embraced and I rushed a prayer up to Jesus with a heart full of love and hope for this man.

So, I ask you today; Is my husband a believer or is he not?

Oh how I pray with fervor and passion that on the day of the rapture all of you will find that Mr. and Mrs. Donovan left planet earth together.

Hearing my husband’s words, “I thought you were raptured,” compels me to continue to pray for his salvation.

Don’t give up hope for your unsaved loved ones. Your influence and prayers are monumentally important.

Be blessed this day and come Lord, Jesus, come. Lynn

Find me daily at

Several years ago, we had a family pet that was named “Stormy”, she was a German Shepherd/black lab mix that weighed in at 100 pounds. She was one of the greatest dogs we ever had. Stormy developed a tumor that became large enough that it slowed her down. She was an older dog so we decided to put her to sleep. It was one of the hardest decisions we had to make, as we all loved her dearly.

When the vet asked my husband and I what we wanted to do with her body, we decided that we would bring her back to the house and bury her on our property. The children would be arriving home from school soon, and we could have a family burial for our beloved pet of many years. So we wrapped that 100 pound dog up in a sheet and brought her home.

While my husband and my two older sons began to dig the hole on our property, I instructed them to keep digging and I would go pick up our young daughter from daycare and when we returned we could have our final good-bye. Before I could return with my daughter, my husband and sons finished digging the hole and went ahead and buried Stormy. Upon arriving back home, my daughter and I were horrified that they had gone ahead and buried our precious pet without us!

My oldest son stood, with his foot still on the shovel and looked over at us blubbering females and said to my husband, “We have to dig her up, don’t we?” My husband replied, “uh-huh!”

We have had alot of pets since Stormy, but I can guarantee you, she was the only dog that died and got buried twice!

I was thinking about Stormy today and that burial story and it dawned on me that we are just like our dog who got buried twice. When we come to the altar with our sins, our problems and our struggles - we give it all to God. We bury our burdens and walk away. But walking away just isn’t enough sometimes. We tend to turn around and pick up the shovel and dig back up all those burdens once again.

“Come to me all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).

I can only imagine how weary and tiring it must have been for my son to dig and dig and dig that grave for our pet,  not once – but twice. How tiring it is to keep shoveling and digging dirt, without resting.

The problems that we carry around on our shoulders can become so heavy that it is difficult for us to escape or find rest. Giving it all to God will ease the load. Once we do that, God buries it, never to be reminded of it again! The problem is that we tend to take the shovel from God’s hand and we unbury those burdens and take them back on our shoulders.

So who has control of the shovel - you or God? Isn’t it time to bury those burdens once and for all? Today is the day … give the shovel back to God!

Visit me for daily devotions at WOMENTAKINGASTAND

“Mom!”

I knew I heard my daughter calling me but the lazy dream I was enjoying wasn’t letting me go.

“MOM” I heard her desperate voice this time and sprang straight up in bed. My heart was pounding from 20 cc’s of adrenalin flooding my chest. It was pitch black in my bedroom. The clock radio glared 4:30 a.m.

“What is it?” I whispered frantic, stumbling from bed toward the light switch.

“Mom, there is something in my bedroom.”

Well, this sassy feline pushed her way through two dog doors to get in the laundry room. She then walked pass my old Dalmatian who was asleep in the office. She slipped by my bedroom and my small yippy dog who sleeps on the bed, (of course). Sheesh! So much for guard dogs!

Then this Queen of the Cats sauntered across the entire expanse of our living, dining, and family room down the hall to where my daughter was fast asleep in her pink princess bed. Side note -My daughter would be mortified if she knew I was telling you as a twelve-year-old she still has a princess bed.-

As I ran down the hall with my daughter, looking for the nighttime intruder, I asked my child, “Were you scared when the cat jumped on you?”

She said, “No, not really.”

I was relieved by her answer but didn’t really have time to think about the implication until later. I found myself coaxing the mangy beast from under the bed and tossing her out the front door. My daughter was all grins, tickled by the surprise visitor. I didn’t find the cat antics quite so humorous.

What I did discover from this nocturnal adventure was evidence of my daughters faith. She prays.

A few days following our pre-dawn drama I asked my daughter why she wasn’t afraid of things that go bump in the night. She said to me, “Mom, I pray at night when I’m scared.”

Aaah, Music to a mother’s ears.

I taught my child to pray when she was frightened at night.

As believers we know there is a spiritual world where we face an enemy we cannot see. Learning what to pray when we are frightened is key to overcoming our fears and living triumphant lives. This is what Jesus wants for us. 2 Timothy 1:7 (NLT) For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline.

When I was a child I wish I had learned how to pray in the still darkness of the night. Today, I know how to pray. I can defeat the enemy. Things that go bump in the night no longer leave me sleepless and worried.

In the wee hours of the morning when fears assault, I lean upon God’s word and His truth. Psalm 91, also know as the 911 prayer, gives me peace. Read it. It is powerful.

I also cling to 1 John 4:4 (King James Version) Ye are of God, little children, and have overcome them: because greater is he that is in you, than he that is in the world.

Then pray:

Lord God, I approach your throne with Jesus at my side. It is by his blood that I bind the enemy of fear. I ask you Lord to dispatch angels with swords drawn to stand at each doorway in my home. I ask you Lord for a hedge of protection to surround us. Lord, I KNOW greater are You who live in me than he that lives in the world. By the Redeeming blood of Jesus I ask these things, Amen.

Have a blessed and powerful day (and night) in the name of Jesus.

Be blessed, Lynn
Find me daily at

I originally shared this story about two years ago. I hope you find it inspires you again this week. Hugs, Lynn