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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Real Estate Bird
Right in the middle of writing a different blog post (a pretty dreary and potentially depressing one) I thought, “Hey, let’s lighten things up a bit.” We’ll start with the basics. Parakeets can talk. And fly. Twelve-year old girls aren’t always smart. But they mean well. The summer of 1974 was monumental. We, our giant
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Al and Ruth
Once upon a time, decades ago, there was a church. Not small or large. An in-between church. It was straining within the era in which it existed, seeking to communicate love and Good News as it always had, yet trying to speak it and sing it in a way that was possibly uncomfortable to the
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Wailing Walls and Tomato Sandwiches
I don’t read a lot of blogs. That’s partly why it surprises me when anybody more than my Aunt Neva reads this one. It’s not that I don’t see their value and quality, or that I think people who write them have a high opinion of themselves. They just make me nervous. Introspective. Almost every
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Peace, Friends
Unusual days call for an unusual post. Most likely you are reading this from your home. Good. If you find yourself in one of the “hot spots” here in the United States and the news keeps getting worse, more intense, more foreboding, please know that there is at least one person sitting at a desk
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Disoriented
The last couple of weeks remind me of the day I got into someone else’s car and tried to start it. The ignition was in the wrong place. The seat wasn’t adjusted to the way I always had it set. Someone had changed the color of the upholstery and it smelled funny in there. When
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It’s That Time
Today I realized I’ve known my mother-in-law the same number of years that I knew my mother and my first reaction was that I didn’t want my mother to feel bad about that. My second reaction was to look around and see if there were any witnesses to the first reaction. 38 That’s the number.
Beyond Lashley Lane 