Well, for starts, it doesn’t mean to not do anything else. I mean, we still have jobs to go to, houses to clean, people to take care of. But we can do all those things with a prayer on our lips or in our hearts. Praying without ceasing is to acknowledge that God is never ceasing.
“Always be joyful. Never stop praying. Be thankful in all circumstances,
for this is God’s will for you who belong to Christ Jesus.”
~1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 NLT
Now, I know not every moment is a happy-cake-and-party moment. Some are sad, frustrating, hurtful and hurting moments.
You know what? God knows. And He is loving you through every millisecond of it.
Even if you don’t think so. Even if you’d rather He not.
He’s still here. Being God. Doing God things that no one else can see, and may never see. But that’s why He’s Abba-Daddy-God. Because even if we never recognize or acknowledge all the good He does, he’s still going to do it, anyway.
Because He loves us that much.
And this week’s Bible verse is Him imploring us to see that He’s still here with us. When we know we are His, how much of what this earth throws at us really matters?
So, there’s a bit of a disconnect sometimes when I tell peeps I work with social media. I’m not saying my mom is gonna flash onto to Facebook or so many people will suddenly make my posts go viral. (Although, if it’s for positive reasons, I ain’t gonna lie: That’d be okay with me.)
While I love helping y’all grow your internet presence, there’s one thing you gotta do both on and off the wires: Ya gotta network.
Frankly, My Dear . . . : Social Media Saturday
With the new day job I get to attend weekly Chamber of Commerce meetings. My city is one of several in the area, but the only that doesn’t limit our meetings to just a monthly luncheon. Ain’t that sweet!
And at these meetings, we, well, meet. We do the Grip & Grin. The Meet & Greet. The Hi & Hug. However you want to say it, we each go out of our way to connect with those around us.
Social media is the same thing. You have to extend a hand in order for others to have something to hold on to. You can’t grow your online presence, your reputation, or your friends list, just by sitting stagnant.
#Trustme.
One of the best things you can do is to reach out to others and let them know how your presence benefits their day. Whether it’s in person or online, your peeps want to know they matter.
And since I want you to know YOU matter, I’m opening up the comments on this post for all y’all to share your links. (Please note that comments will be moderated. They must be your personal or professional links. Any extraneous or inappropriate comments and links will be deleted, and commenter may be blocked. Check back frequently to follow your fellow commenters.)
Ain’t that just a slice of peach pie for your coffee?
Let’s get straight to it, yah? All y’all know I love to bake, cook, and feed people, right? I mean, I’m making some more slow cooker turkey chili tomorrow and about ten people are showing up. I think that’s what they call a correlation.
So, sure. I have my go-to favorites. But recently I’ve discovered something else: The art of cooking the unknown. Now, I’m not about to throw thirty bucks of whatever into the oven and *hope* it turns out okay. I like to investigate my recipes first. A little internet recon, if you will. I check ratings, reviews, cooks.
But wait. There’s more. Let’s talk decorating. Holiday theme ideas. Writing prompts. The need to tear a page out now and then and run a highlighter over it, or clip a few together. Remember when scrapbooking was actually done with material, not a computer?
I mean, let’s be real. What’s better for This Girl that words in print?
So guess what I’ve discovered. Okay, pretty sure y’all ain’t stupid and the post title gave it away, but just for grins and giggles, pretend it didn’t.
Go on, then. Guess. No? Okay. I’ll tell you.
Magazines.
That’s right. I have become accustomed to picking up print mags at the check out at the supermarket. But–are you ready?–Wait for it. I actually go looking for the magazine racks in stores. #truestory
And they say print is dead.
Here are my current five favorite magazines. Oh, and just ‘cuz I don’t have a lot of magazine photos, I’ve linked the magazine websites so you can check them out yourselves.
Taste of The South. Okay, for this one I have a photo. I mean, I seriously had a mini freak out when I found it in the store. Haven’t seen it there since, so I guess I’m subscribing next pay day. #soworthit The flavors, the photos, the authenticity. It’s. Just. Perfect.
Taste of the South Magazine
Writer’s Digest. Best magazine for writers. Period. Full of great advice, success stories, and opportunities. Don’t forget their competitions!
Better Homes and Gardens. Now this one I admit I usually only pick up their specialty mags, like holiday cooking or Spring decor. I like it because it’s for everyday people, and it’s always overloaded with ideas to make life, well, better.
Food Network Magazine. Sigh. Who doesn’t know this one? With my Bobby Flay table setting and recipes from so many chefs including Rachel Ray and Paula Deen, my kitchen is always my (second) favorite place to be.
Southern Living. Oh, hullo. Doesn’t this just sweeten your tea when you need it most? Chock full of everything Southern, I couldn’t love it more unless it delivered NOLA to me in person. From recipes to home decor to travel to gardening. It’s a darn fine rag, if ya’ ask me.
And now it’s late and I have some reading to do. So, if you’ll excuse me . . .
Oh, almost forgot: What are your favorite magazines?
When I started writing NOLA, there was no question she would be a character. I just didn’t know what kind of character. Oh, sorry. I guess all y’all will have to wait til it’s published to find out the details. #sorrynotsorry
When SuperGirl went to New Orleans last spring, she captured some beautiful photos and has given me permission to share them here. Now, they’re not Ms. Laveau’s tomb, but with the stormy skies and the reaching branches, the effect is still wonderfully creepy. So, you know. Thanks, Cara.
Frankly, My Dear . . .: The Mysterious New Orleans
Marie was known for her, shall we call them, abilities to help people out of tricky situations. She was a great people-reader. Scholars believe, while she practiced Louisiana Voodoo, it was actually her talent for understanding people that brought her the recognition she now has. She’s been rumored to have been a hairstylist, mistress, midwife, and nurse. All the kinds of professions where people share their secrets. It could explain her vast knowledge of her community.
Then again . . .
It’s also said she had a daughter who looked like her twin. This gave rise to the rumor that Marie had died and lived again. It’s also been rumored she never had a child.
So what is the truth?
Marie was a troublemaker who never got into trouble. She disrupted her neighborhood more than once with her wild Voodoo parties. When the police were called, they rarely found reason to arrest her. The few times they did, she was known to be released against unreasonable odds.
She sold gris-gris (Mojo bags), cast spells, laid (and lifted) curses, told fortunes, and mixed potions. People sought her help when their situations seemed helpless.
Even as a Voodoo priestess, Marie was a strong practicing Catholic. New Orleans blends the two religions without shame or apology.
During her life–that’s her real life, not the I-don’t-know-if-she’s-undead-or-not life–she cultivated a reputation that reigns to this day. She’s known as the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans, and people still flock to her tomb in St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 to pray for her interventions.
Frankly, My Dear . . . : This is New Orleans (excerpt from NOLA)
Her death house is marked with triple X’s. To petition her, a person must draw three X’s, turn around three times, knock on the tomb, and yell out their wish. If the wish is granted, they’re to come back, circle their own X’s and leave an offering for Marie. The offering can be as simple as flowers, coins, Mardi Gras beads, candles, and other trinkets. As long as it shows appreciation for Marie and her works.
Due to recent bouts of vandalism, the cemetery (also known as the City of the Dead) no longer allows visitors without a tour guide.
In a culture rich with a haunted past, Marie Laveau lives on in modern-day New Orleans.
You feel the silence like a weight on your soul. Above you, a hiss of wind shifts the moss dangling from the rows of dying oaks.
Witches’ hair, the locals call the moss.
Tonight, in the heavy atmosphere, you’re almost ready to believe there are faces on the other side of the moss.
One of the South’s most haunted cities, Savannah allegedly has a ghost on every corner. Tourists who know nothing of the legends call police when they run into a distressed soul, only to later discover the one seeking their aid has disappeared.
Frankly, My Dear . . . : Savannah Spooks
When you walk through downtown, you are trespassing across stolen land and forgotten graves. Uneven rises in the sidewalk are said to be caused by collapsing coffins beneath. Squares rich with history coax you into exploring them, trapping you in their ethereal atmosphere before they reveal their true history. It took months of exploring my favorite spot, Wright Square, before I discovered it was actually the “hanging square,” haunted by the ghost of accused murderer Alice Riley.
I heard the story like this:
Alice Riley arrived in Savannah two months before she became a murderer. Nothing is known about the life she left behind her in Ireland, but certainly she was desperate to get out, given that she had indentured herself as a servant in return for passage to the colonies. When the ship finally arrived, the indentured servants aboard were storm-tossed and nearly starved.
Despite the dire circumstances, Alice must have been hopeful when they landed.
A new country.
A new start from whatever she left behind.
But instead she was sent away with the worst of masters: abusive degenerate William Wise.
According to legend, he used Alice in any way he pleased. She was forced to bathe him, while her lover and fellow indentured servant Richard White combed Wise’s long hair. Wise used his fists and words with brutal regularity.
In March of 1734, according to legend, Alice and White had enough: they would kill Wise and escape together to Charleston, where they could begin a free life together. They came as usual to begin Wise’s morning grooming. Alice set the bucket of water behind Wise’s head, and White moved in position to begin combing his master’s hair. Instead, White grabbed Wise’s neckerchief, strangling him. Then Alice plunged Wise’s head into the bucket. Already in frail health, Wise died quickly.
Alice and White fled the scene of the crime. When Wise’s body was discovered, the Savannahians’ suspicions were raised, and a manhunt ensued. White was caught first, then Alice. White was taken immediately to the gallows, but a discovery halted Alice’s execution.
She was pregnant.
Some claim the baby was White’s, created in love, and others that the pregnancy was forced upon her by her wicked master. In either case, pregnancy only delayed her eventual fate. Alice gave birth while awaiting execution.
On January 19, 1735, her baby was ripped from her arms, and Alice was taken into Wright Square to be hanged, protesting her innocence and cursing the city for not believing her.
Her body swung on the gallows for three days.
Her baby, James, died two weeks after.
Centuries after the hanging, we still don’t know the full truth of the story. Was Alice a forced accomplice in Wise’s death? Or was she the instigator, tired of Wise’s rapes and abuse?
Perhaps we should ask Alice herself.
Her ghost is said to haunt Wright Square to this day, one of the most often reported ghosts in the US. It’s said she appears to pregnant women and mothers with infants, in an attempt to take their babies.
As for the curse? People have many theories, but one thing is clear: to this day, Spanish moss doesn’t grow on the trees in the park. After all, the legends say the moss won’t grow where innocent blood was spilled.
Who knows? Maybe one day I’ll do an investigation myself.
Dragon Tamer. Ancient Rome fanatic. Writer living on the edge of fictional worlds. J. A. Patterson attempted to teach herself to write at the age of four, wrote her first book (featuring eerily violent chickens) at age five, and has been immersed in books ever since. Sometimes literally. When she isn’t writing, you can find her studying music, reading, and searching for portals to new fantasy worlds. Talk to Jacqueline about books, and she will be your friend forever. You can connect with her through her website and blog J.A.Patterson, on Twitter and Instagram.
