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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…
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This Old Guitar
The word “blog” makes me roll my eyes. That’s why I prefer to think of what I do as more of an “anecdotally illustrated Christ follower’s motivational chit chat.” Sadly, that does not roll off the tongue. So “blog” it is. Eye roll optional. The redesigned Beyond Lashley Lane will have a similar feel to…
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Duck Jams
A scenario plays out multiple times daily at a four-way stop here in town and there’s not much that can be done about it. On the southeast corner a canal flows, Elijah Drain. Due to the constant presence of water, there are trees, shrubs, weeds, and tangled masses of ground cover, all of it becoming…
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Meat Hungry
When you tell life stories to people do you wonder if there’s any common thread between the teller and the listener, the writer and the reader? I do. Can you relate to me? Can I relate to you? Do my words speak your language? Certainly we are not all the same age (stop clapping your…
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Relentless Goodwill (Ugh)
A long time ago in a galaxy far far away I stood chit chatting with a lady at church. She was somewhat older than I, respected in the congregation, a well-liked person with a nice circle of friends both there and in the community. She explained to me why she and her family decided to…
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In the Light of Goldie
Louella Goldie Westmoreland lived 32 years, never married or became a mother, did not know the enjoyment of a good book or scintillating after-dinner conversation, did not attend school and was dependent on her loved ones to care for her. A high fever as an infant immediately changed her life and the lives of her…
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Hidden Pictures
On a strangely quiet Monday I took a photo of where I sat. It’s my desk in my “office.” It’s not really just an office. And it’s not really just mine. We’ll call it multifunctional. Jointly owned. In here I read, write, research, organize, study, pray, ponder, water plants, stitch, search the file cabinet for…
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Pen Pal Marty
When color TV came to our basement in the late 60s, it brought with it the bloody reality of the nightly news of Vietnam. The war had been safely gray up to that point. In 1968 I was just seven and in 2nd grade but “Hanoi” and “Saigon” were familiar words to me, though without…
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The End of Coco’s Tail
It begins long before the tale of Coco’s tail, way before my boyfriend introduced me to his own actual family. We start here. On 1st Street in Nampa, Idaho. In this old house. Once upon a time there was a skinny college boy who needed a place to stay during the summer. The boy had…
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Ebenezer
The smell of wood smoke rises from the old stone chimney of the Ramble In if my eyes are closed and my head held at a proper tilt. I can feel the thin Rocky Mountain air in my well-adapted young lungs and hear pine needle covered trails crunch under my feet as I scramble up,…
Beyond Lashley Lane
Plain talk about life from a Christian perspective woven together with humor, practicality, and God willing, a bit of encouragement
Beyond Lashley Lane 