Ways to Support Your Favorite Blogger
Ways to Support Your Favorite Blogger
by Molly Jo Realy @RealMojo68

Frankly, My Dear . . . : Ways to Support Your Favorite Blogger
And Frankly, My Dear . . . That’s all she wrote!
Ways to Support Your Favorite Blogger
by Molly Jo Realy @RealMojo68

Frankly, My Dear . . . : Ways to Support Your Favorite Blogger
And Frankly, My Dear . . . That’s all she wrote!
Frankly, On Faith: Do All Things
by Molly Jo Realy @RealMojo68

Frankly, On Faith.
We live in an era that glorifies differences. We’re on one side of the fence or the other, but rarely are we perched atop in perfect balance.
Worse, that fence is not often wire. We can’t, or choose not to, see through to the other side. Our vision is blocked by hard wood or brick, or we’re only allowed a glimpse through holes or slats.
It’s sometimes the same with our actions. We don’t always see how what we do affects others. We don’t always care. We keep heaping our own plates higher and higher, with minimal consideration for “all things in moderation.”
We martyr ourselves in our own minds; believing we have it worse because we feel alone. Unloved. Uncared for. We separate ourselves from our community.
We can’t see the other side of the fence.
It makes it hard to see the other person’s story, to walk a mile in their shoes.
When I’m in a moment of frustration or anger toward someone else, I remember how God forgave me. How He bundled me up, healed my hurts and kissed my forehead. Then, He set me back on my feet and gave me a pat. “Go and make disciples of all the nations.” (Matt 28:19a, NLT).
He didn’t ask me to be perfect, to know everything, or to see the horizon before I took a first step. He just asked me to go. And to do so in a spirit of acceptance and forgiveness.
“They kept demanding an answer, so he stood up again and said, “All right, but let the one who has never sinned throw the first stone!”
~John 8:7, NLT
Instead of using stones to hurt, or to build more walls, try laying a path.
This week, I challenge to take one step closer, to stretch your hand out farther, and to smile at a stranger. Step outside your thought-box and see things from a different perspective. Give someone the grace you would like returned to yourself.
How will you begin to tear down your walls?
CLICK TO TWEET: Frankly, On Faith: Cast the First Stone
With stepping stones and a peaceful heart,
~Molly Jo

Frankly, On Faith: Cast the First Stone
And Frankly, My Dear . . . That’s all she wrote!
by Edie Melson @EdieMelson
Hey, y’all. So, check out the awesome circle button on the right side bar. See that? Contributor, The Write Conversation. Yup. That’s me. But here’s the fun part. I get to reciprocate. In bloggy terms, that means while I have a post up on Edie’s site, she has a post up here at FMD. Kinda nifty how that works out, yeah? Okaaay. We may have planned it. But still. It’s cool.
You’ve heard me talk about Edie before. You can thank her for the growth at FMD over the last few years. She’s been a great teacher, mentor, friend, guidance counselor . . . You get the picture.
So check out my post at The Write Conversation, and check out her post, well, now.
~ ~ ~
For an author, building an online presence that’s both professional and personable can be a bit of a tightrope walk. After all, we’ve all cringed at some of the intimate details shared in ill-considered tweets and Facebook posts. We want to connect with our readers as honestly and as genuinely as possible. But we also want to present ourselves as the professionals we are. I’ve had a lot of writers ask for guidance on where to draw that line.
The good news is that there are some guidelines you can follow. The bad news is, there are exceptions to almost every rule. Each author relates differently in person and to be authentic, we must carry that personal bent into our online presence.
Things to Share
There are some things we all enjoy sharing, whether or not we’re directly involved. That’s where this list fits. It’s not an exhaustive list, but I’m including enough suggestions so you can get a strong idea of what’s good to share. These things shouldn’t make up the majority of your social media updates or blog posts, but sprinkling them in can make you more approachable and even fun.
Things NOT to Share
Bottom Line
Navigating online socially is a lot like attending a large party. All the same rules apply.
Trust me, you do not want to be the person everyone at the party avoids. Being personable and sharing bits of your personal life online can enhance your overall image. Staying upbeat, encouraging and positive whenever possible will make you someone people want to know, online and off.
~ ~ ~
Like I said, Edie is a font of information when it comes to social media and staying safe online. Check out her other posts on FMD and TWC.
With a Southern drawl and security system,
~Molly Jo
And Frankly, My Dear . . . That’s all she wrote!
by Jacqueline Patterson @jacpatterson
Buckets of sweet tea! Knowing I live vicariously through her, Jacqueline (also known in our inner writer circle as Paige) documented her recent visit to a private plantation for Frankly, My Dear . . .
Now, there’s a whole list of reasons this thrills me, but mostly because, as y’all know, we’re heading back to Blue Ridge next month which, as it always does, has inspired me to amp up the blogging yet again. This is it, folks. I am claiming my inner Southern Girl for y’all. And Paige is part of the process. Stay tuned as we continue to swap stories from the rocking chairs and let you in on all the adventures us belles are about to have.
But first, sit back and grab a julep. Paige is about to take us on an adventure.
~ ~ ~
The gigantic oaks towered like sentinels as I slowed my car outside the gate. Moss, like clumsily-held swords, dangled from the branches just inches from my car’s hood in a mimicry of a challenge.
I inched my car closer and the gate finally began to open . . . into a world fastened to the past.
Endless rows of oaks lined the curved avenue, partially obscuring the Manor on the edge of the marsh. Green fields opened to my left—a former playing ground for horses but now inhabited by wild birds and broken dreams. Sparsed along the avenue, refurbished slave cabins sat half-hidden behind the trees, their presence casting a shroud of silent condemnation.

Paige’s Plantation- Cabins
As far as my eye could see, I was the only human being in sight.
I’d been invited by my caretaker friends to spend the weekend at this Lowcountry plantation. Two days for my history-loving heart to explore and dream my way into the past.
I already knew I would have a hard time returning to the real world.
My friends were waiting eagerly on the porch of the Overseer’s cabin. The following hours became a traipse through history as we took a prolonged tour of the plantation grounds. We explored winding, woodsy trails and when I closed my eyes, I could imagine I was a Southern belle riding out to inspect my property. At home. At peace.

Paige’s Plantation- Marsh
Peace? Ha. That blissful illusion dissolved the moment my friend Rhene suggested a jog through the marsh in search of gators.
Let’s go ahead and be honest here.
I took every step with the panicked awareness that a gator would crawl out of the marsh any moment and chomp off my leg as some kind of gator-courage-award trophy. And I wasn’t in the mood to donate my leg.

Paige’s Plantation – The Alligator
Talk about an incentive to keep jogging.
Rhene laughed at my fears and assured me it was too cold for them to come up on the paths. She said what she thought was comforting. “Even when it’s warm, I can’t sneak up on one if I try. They can smell us coming.”
That wasn’t the comfort I was looking for.
She pointed down into the marsh-grass on the bank and explained it was a gator hole. Apparently that’s where they come up out of the marsh. She said, “Sometimes you’ll see them laying in there when you go by.”
Cringing, I bent down for a closer look. In the center of the marsh-grass was a perfectly shaped hole, like a giant spyglass, allowing me to see down the bank and into the water. No gators visible. Phew.
I eased back slowly and tried to smile, like gator hidey-holes didn’t scare me in the least.
Halfway around the marsh we slowed our jog to a walk and Rhene pointed out the various landmarks.
A flock of birds flew out of the grass at our approach, their pink wings startling against the blue sky. She told me that although born white, they turn pink from eating all the shrimp in the marsh. Imagine!
We paused to watch the birds disappear beyond the outlying woods. The sun was warm against my back and the fingers of the wind brushed across my sweat-soaked face, cooling me with the scent of the marsh. We turned down the path that divided the marsh, still checking for gators, but by now I was relaxed. We had yet to spot a single gator and I was confident that I would be able to keep my leg after all.
Until Rhene grabbed my arm, whispered, and pointed. “Look. See it? Out on that little island?”
OK.
My leg was about to be claimed.
“Where?” My gaze dropped to a gator hole on the bank, checking frantically. Rhene’s hold tightened on my arm until I was forced to look up, following her gaze until I saw it, almost hidden in the high grass of the island.

Paige’s Plantation – Hidden Alligator
~ ~ ~
I know. I’m a Scarlett for stopping the story here. But if y’all read it in one sitting, there’s no reason for you to keep coming back now, is there? No worries, sugar. Paige has more photos, and the ending, in her next installment.
So stick around. Y’all might just enjoy a little more Southern hospitality.
CLICK TO TWEET: Frankly, My Dear…: Paige’s Plantation
With tall boots and a willow wisp,
~Molly Jo
And Frankly, My Dear . . . That’s all she wrote!
by Molly Jo Realy @RealMojo68

Frankly, On Faith.
I have a confession to make. A terrible, dark, sinful confession. Can I trust you?
I almost forgot it was Easter.
It’s true. I have been running ninety miles an hour and breaking through that end-race tape only to find it was really just the beginning of another race. Ever feel that way? Yeah. Glad I got my Skechers on.
At some point I ran to the water cart and saw the calendar. That can’t be right. But it is. Easter is upon us, and I’ve done very little to prep for it.
What’s that? You’re in the same race? Sweet. Let me share some refreshment with you.
God doesn’t care about the prep work.
He cares that you showed up.
You know why? Because that’s what He did. He was, is, and will always be here. He showed up. In the beginning. Before there was a beginning. He was the Beginning. And He will be the end. He overcame what we thought was the end. In Him, there is no end.
Wait, you say. How can you have a beginning without an end? Good question. I don’t have a good answer, except to point to Him. Because He is what I know, and He’s way smarter than you or I can ever be.
Some things require only faith. Some things we will never understand, but that’s okay. Not knowing why or how doesn’t make anything less real. I don’t know how my shoes are manufactured, but they still protect my feet on the pavement.
From the beginning, before the beginning, in the beginning, God and the Word were united, the same. They came together even though they already were. It’s like a wind picking up more wind; they’re the same but separate and stronger and together and unique and a whole . . . You can’t separate a breeze from a wisp.
In the beginning the Word already existed.
The Word was with God,
and the Word was God.
He existed in the beginning with God.
God created everything through him,
and nothing was created except through him.
The Word gave life to everything that was created,
and his life brought light to everyone.
The light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness can never extinguish it.
~John 1:1, NLT
God showed up. In the beginning. Now. Later. He was, is, and always will be, here.
And here you are, showing up. Now. In this moment. And you’ve been here. For a second, a minute, an hour, a day . . . It doesn’t matter. Time is no element to God. You are here. He is here. We are here together so He is here, now, with us.
Time cannot hold Him. The Grave cannot hold Him. He is too big and great and powerful and mighty to be held.
Except by your hand.
Hey. Do you see that? He’s smiling and reaching. He wants to run the rest of the race with you. Will you let Him join your journey?
CLICK TO TWEET: Frankly, On Faith: I almost forgot Easter.
With running shoes and a hand to hold,
~Molly Jo

Frankly, On Faith: I Almost Forgot Easter.
And Frankly, My Dear . . . That’s all she wrote!