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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Beulah Land and Betty Lou
My blessed mother-in-law started talking about her funeral somewhere in the neighborhood of 30 years ago so we “kids” became accustomed to nodding and smiling and “mmhmming” when that inevitable topic came up. Now we’re all sitting around on couches holding cups of cold coffee staring blankly at each other wondering what to do because…
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The Death of Roy
My friend Roy died of cancer when I was 14. He was 16. There was a funeral at the United Methodist Church and all of us teens who were in the youth group with him sat together and cried in varying degrees, dealing with wretched emotions as our young years both allowed and forced us…
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We Shout Out Hooray
In the quest for the shortest blog post ever, this one will most likely qualify. First, let me show you a photo of the first page of my planning notebook where I copied these verses about six months ago. It was a dark time, friends. Not a time without hope. But pretty cloudy. Today I…
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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…
Beyond Lashley Lane 