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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A Thousand Little Dots
Her name was Betty Ruth Flynt but I called her Barf. You can’t buy good friends like that–ones who will lovingly call you, “Barf.” I figured since I was not allowed to utter the middle name “Ruth,” that “Barf” was the next best choice as her initials were just asking for it. Junior High. What
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The Year (Day) to the Left of Sixty
Twenty-something years ago I started writing a series of short essays/devotionals which were to be compiled into a book titled, “The Year to the Left of Forty.” They’re still in my desk file drawer with a couple of additions and a scratched-in retitle — yes, you guessed it — “The Year to the Left of
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83651
I love it here. The June sun is so bright on our western-facing house that in the late afternoon it’s nearly impossible to see the face of the person standing on our front porch when I answer the doorbell. There is often a breeze floating through and when it turns to wind it powers across
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Small
A while back there was a meeting called. It required one free day without rain, a semi organized plan, and the motivation to not chicken out. Location: Where the Pacific Meets the Shore Participants: Sovereign Creator God and Me Agenda: I. Sitting Still II. A Little Nostalgia III. Scenery IV. Perspective If you are familiar
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All the Apple Pies
Even a brand new S.O.S. pad can have trouble scrubbing off certain greebage (a wonderful word coined by my beloved) from oven racks. The baked-on crud doesn’t want to give up. I am woman though. Hear me roar. In classic early morning style, as I bent over the kitchen sink at 4:45 a.m. doing chores
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Trees of Life
To plant a tree is to begin a memory. I’m a big believer in the power of growing plants along with growing the family. A measure of a kid or two or three or four can be marked right along with the rings of a tree I’ve left here and there across our pathway. And
Beyond Lashley Lane 