I’m back

Sometimes life gets crazy and the important stuff, at least important to you, gets buried in the mundane day-to-day stuff. Which is another way of saying, I’ve been busy and going crazy because I haven’t been writing every day.

But I have been writing.

I have a new book out now and you can get it from Amazon, Smashwords, or lots of other places, including CreateSpace.

160202 Cover Lamborn Sm RGB copy

It’s a page-turner, I’m told, a tale of terror sure to keep you up at night. I’d love it for you to grab a copy and decide for yourself. Maybe you could leave a review wherever you get your copy?

OK, I suppose you want to know something more about it. The book is called, “A Taste for Something New,” and it takes place in Southwest Florida. Gruesome murders lead police to consider unconventional suspects. Heads are on the block as a beautiful investigator and an awkward cryptozoologist team up to stop a monster leaving a trail of human wreckage across the area.

I’ve been working on a group of short stories since finishing the principle writing and editing. Childhood nightmares are pretty good fields to harvest for stories aimed at keeping adults up at night, I’ve found.

What’s something that scares you?

A little Easter story

I wanted to share something with y’all. It’s something I wrote a while ago, but was able to share publicly for the first time on Friday, aka Good Friday.

It’s a short story from the perspective of John, watching Mary, Jesus’ mother, at the foot of the cross. My church held services on Good Friday during which each of the seven last words of Christ was addressed. I was asked to address the sixth word. My story, “Tetelestai,” covers the moments just before Christ calls out, “It is finished,” which is English for the Aramaic title of the story.

I was humbled to read from John 19:29-30, and then talk about the meaning behind “tetelestai.” I followed my brief thoughts with this story. I hope you enjoy it. If so, please visit my Facebook page and click “Like.”



by Jay Lamborn


            Her heart relaxed between beats, the semilunar valves closed and the atrioventricular valves opened.

            The crimson drop slid down his forehead, slowly and methodically, as if attempting to avoid separation from its point of origin.

            It moved ever so slowly along beneath the crown of thorns, slipping into the space between his brows, where it waivered for a moment before deciding to take the track along the inside edge of his left eye.

            Her atrium contracted and blood flowed to the ventricle.

            Agonizing as it must have been to have the dot slowly moving down the edge of his nose, the man made no attempt to shake his head and dislodge the dot. His hands, nailed to the wood, were useless.

            The ventricles of her heart contracted.

            Waves of sound broke against the man, but none moved the globule from its appointed course. It continued to slide, through the hair above his mouth, moving now along the upper lip, delicately tracing a path along it before moving down through the scruff rough Roman barbers had left him and on to his chin.

            The ventricles emptied and the semilunar valves opened. Her focus on this singular dot was amazing. She was racked with sobs, tears flowed freely, but she never lost sight of it.

            The sky darkened and still her eyes kept watch as it quivered upon his chin. His voice rang out, laying bare his pain, and the movement of his jaw sent the scarlet blood flying. Her eyes locked on it, following the drop through the air and onto the suddenly shaking ground, even as her heart stopped the end of the contraction to begin its next beat.

            “It is finished.”

The Lesson I Unlearned About the Bible

I had certain verses pounded into me growing up. Chances are, you did, too.

John 3:16, anyone?

How about the 23rd Psalm?

Year after year my Sunday School teachers focused on the same stories and verses. Repetition taught me something I didn’t realize fully at the time – they taught me to believe some parts of the Bible are more important than others.

They aren’t.

God clarifies this in Paul’s second letter to Timothy. All Scripture is God-breathed, which is to say it is the Word of God. That’s in 2 Timothy 3:16-17.

It’s like saying that chapter with Tom Bombadil isn’t important in The Lord of the Rings. If you’ve read the books (seeing the movie doesn’t count), then you know that several things could not otherwise have happened. To remove it is to impact the story as a whole.

The Bible might seem to be a whole bunch of stories, but in reality it is just one story – the story of God redeeming his people.

I thought some parts were more important when I was a kid. As a man I finally put childish things behind me and learned otherwise.

OK, so I put aside this silly notion that some parts of the Bible are more important. A couple of days ago, some 20+ years after most folks would say I became a man.

What is something you believed about the Bible as a kid that changed when you grew up?

Walking for guide dogs

My oldest daughter is blind. You probably know that already, but maybe not. We have begun exploring getting a guide dog for her and visited a nearby breeding and training facility called Southeastern Guide Dogs.

It’s a great place. For about 30 years they’ve been breeding and training dogs to assist the blind or to work with those with other disabilities. In recent years they’ve also provided a lot of support for veterans.

This weekend my daughter, the rest of my family, and some friends, are going to Bradenton to take part in a fundraising walk-a-thon for Southeastern Guide Dogs. My daughter found out about this event when we visited Southeastern a couple of months ago. She’s the type of girl who wants to help those who help others when she can’t directly help someone herself. She also feels that taking part in the walk-a-thon is an investment in her future, for the time when she is able to have a guide dog herself.

She named her team Blind Anchors, in part symbolizing her time spent in her school’s Naval JROTC program, but also to symbolize that she won’t let stereotypes hold her back. She seeks to conquer blind prejudice with blind faith, that she won’t be defined by her lack of sight. She’s on the board of the Florida Association of Blind Students, a part of the National Federation of the Blind. Their motto is “Changing what it means to be blind.”

Please consider supporting the team this weekend by making a donation through our team page, or comment below with a message of support. It will mean the world, not just to my daughter, but to those who benefit from your support of Southeastern Guide Dogs. Thank you for reading. In return, you can have this cute picture of a guide dog puppy playing.


My family’s deep, abiding love for … something furry

It’s been a tough week. I’m taking the last class for my bachelor’s degree and one of the assignments due this week really kicked my butt. To be honest, I haven’t given a lot of thought to any writing for a few days.

So what am I writing about today?

My dog.


Brandi is an 8-year-old Brittany. My youngest son rescued her from a shelter in 2008. In 2009 my son came to live with me, and a few months later Brandi joined us. My wife’s daughter Heather quickly fell in love and she and Noah have argued ever since about whose dog Brandi really is. Carolyn mostly argues about Brandi getting on the living room couch and the amount of hair she leaves lying around the house.

If you ask Brandi whose dog she is, I’m pretty sure she won’t pick just one of us, but all of us.

Noah bailed her out the day she was going to be put down at the shelter and she seems to know it. She always seems to know when he’s almost home from school and starts to get excited.

Heather always loves on her and Brandi is always there for Heather whenever she is down. Again, Brandi knows when the bus is due to arrive from the high school and she gets up from wherever she is and sits in the middle of the living room floor. When the bus pulls up her tail and butt start sweeping the floor. She bounds to greet Heather when she comes in.

Or, if not Heather, then Rebekah. Brandi loves her, too. Rebekah tries to play tough, and she does have a cat, but Brandi loves her anyway. I get a lot of joy from seeing this furry ball of excitement race to meet my family when they come home.

She knows not to jump at Carolyn, but she still gets excited when Mommy gets home. Sometimes Brandi gets so excited about it and she forgets and bounds to the door, then hits the brakes and slides to a stop right in front of Carolyn as she’s walking in.

Robert and Job aren’t around much, but Brandi still gets excited when she sees them. Job was just as much a part of her rescue as Noah. He was there in her home every day until she came to Florida. Both boys mess with her, playing games and tricking her by pretending to throw her toys. She loves it.

My dad calls her “Randi,” though I know he knows better, but I stopped correcting him a while ago. Besides, Brandi doesn’t care; she just knows she is going to get love from the short white-haired guy. Even my mom gets in on it, giving her love, and getting some in return.

I’ve never seen how Brandi reacts when I’m coming home, of course, but I know how she is when she’s around me. She shadows me most of the day when I’m home. My every movement is an invitation to play, go for a walk, or some other excitement.

I don’t want to keep her all to myself, but I’m pretty sure if you pressured her on it and she HAD to choose just one person to call her own, it would be me. And if anyone else in the family wrote this, they’d say the same thing.

Olympic Dreams

The 2014 Winter Olympic Games in Sochi, Russia, are underway. I haven’t watch much of it this year, not like I used to as a kid when I’d watch every possible minute. Even so, I’ve seen some incredible performances.

I wonder, which event catches your attention? Was there, when you were a kid, an event you dreamed you’d compete in during the winter games? If you could compete now, is that still the event you would choose?

I’ve been skiing a handful of times in my life. I loved it. I knew I would before ever I strapped on skis, though. Why? Because as long as I can remember I’ve wanted to do giant slalom or downhill. That’s still my pick. I watched Bode Miller on the downhill last night. It was the longest downhill course in Olympic history, with the most vertical drop in Olympic history as well. Bode lost an edge once or twice, he stood up a little too much. I could feel the ice under me, hear the snow as I cut through it, feel the exhilaration of the jumps, and the wind rushing in my face.

What about you?