Welcome!
Lashley Lane, or parts of it, has been a pen name of mine over the years. I treasured my life on that little street. I was safe and cherished and nurtured, imprinted with good memories. We are way Beyond that now but the influence of those early years is embedded deeply.
I’ll be remembering real life and musing about this and that from the past, present, and future. I remain fiercely loyal to the ideal of family and friends being redeemable just as you and I are redeemable, so you’ll just have to trust me with occasional details as I honor privacy. Above all, please realize my Christian point of view. I only hope it will be obvious.
Be sure to click on the navigation bar to find your way around. Happy reading!
LATEST POSTS
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Break the Tape
When motherhood required me to sign up various and sundry children for athletic activities I had two choices: 1) appear confident and knowledgeable with a firm grasp of the rules/culture/uniform requirements/bleachers vs. lawn chairs/snack routine/and social hierarchy of said sport, OR 2) admit I knew less than squat about that world and cling to the
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Putting a Pin in Hope
Over your lifetime, whether long or less long, how many staff meetings have you sat through? This is not an attack on staff meetings . . . they are (usually) a necessity. I’m just curious as to the nomenclature of the room according to the decade in which you sat/are sitting. It’s been a while
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The Towel and Basin
Several nights ago a darkness stole over my spirit. Admittedly, being all too familiar with this heavy feeling, I nonetheless allowed its seemingly inescapable, nearly imperceptible narrowing of my eyes, as I began seeing through a filmy and scurrilously critical lens. A wrong needed righting. A culprit needed correcting. A stance needed taking. A hill
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Enough is Enough is Enough
My beloved and I have two mom and pop recliners in our house as empty nesters often do. Red ones because I’m the one who picked them out. Mine’s on the left. Just to keep things spicy we switched up sides when we changed houses. I used to be on the right. Risky business. If
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Dera Lee and the Fish Knife
Of all the stories I could tell you about a mother on this 25th anniversary of her sudden death, I will choose it to be about the fish fillet knife she carried for protection. You’ll have to wait though, because there’s a prologue. You’ve heard folks talk about “karma” and the concept of “what goes

