Dec 5, 2017 |
by Molly Jo Realy @MollyJoRealy
Let’s set this record straight right now: Dandelions are not a weed. Okay, some may think so. But no. They’re classified as a flower. #truestory
At my first Blue Ridge conference, I delighted in finding a few dandelions.
Frankly, My Dear . . . : Dandelion Hair
At my return a year later, an entire field welcomed me.
They bring me back to my childhood.
I used to make dandelion wreaths for my hair, like all the girls on the block.
If your chin turns yellow when you hold a dandelion underneath it, it means you’re in love.
Once, we let them grow for a month just to see how yellow the back yard could get. Eventually we couldn’t tell the finches from the flowers.
Dandelions are used in teas, and yes, there’s a real thing called Dandelion Wine. I’ve never tried it, but I’m not opposed to the idea. They were originally used as a medicinal herb.
Dandelion can grow almost anywhere. They spring up fast, but their roots grow deep and strong. It’s how they keep coming back. It’s how they weather the storms and morph into those awesome puff balls (achenes) we all love to make wishes with. It’s how they have the ability to change and radiate their presence 200x greater than the original.
The stalk holds a milky white liquid, and the jagged leaves have a magenta tint. Dandelion dye is purple because of this, not the yellow of the flower itself.
The leaves are hairless, and irregular. The French origin of description is dent de lion, which means “lion’s tooth.”
Why am I telling you all about dandelions? Because I think they have a ill-deserved reputation.
Because they make me happy.
And because someone called me a dandelion. [Not to be confused with a dandy, which is apparently a not-nice thing to be called especially as a woman, in the 21st century.] She meant it as a compliment, and told me much of what I’ve just shared with you.
So I’m going to embrace my strength, my endurance, my colorful life, the ability to bloom wherever I am. And then I’m going to explode and share it all with you.
Just because I can.
Frankly, My Dear . . . : Be the Dandelion You’re Meant to Be!
And Frankly, My Dear . . . : That’s all she wrote!
Aug 18, 2017 |
by Molly Jo Realy @RealMojo68
Frankly, My Dear . . . : Five Things Friday
We’ve been doing the Five Things Friday posts for a while now. A start, a stop, a hiccup, but now we’re steady at it. I’ve enjoyed your topic suggestions and comments on these posts.
Recently, someone asked what my five favorite posts on FMD are. Y’all are smart. You already know where this is going. Of course, I could list twenty or possibly a hundred. So choosing my five favorite posts is a bit of a challenge. thankyouverymuchforthesuggestionyouknowwhoyouare.
And I’m betting once I hit “publish” I’m going to think up five other posts that could do justice. Or ten. Or twenty. Or, oh, heck. Just read them all.
But for now, here’s what comes to mind whenever I fondly think of Frankly, My Dear . . . I hope you’ll click through to find why these mean so much to me.
- Life Lessons from Willy Wonka
Willy Wonka: You Have a Better Chance, Because You Want It More.
- My Broken Thumb
Frankly, My Dear . . . : Depression is not a spiritual deficiency.
- Champagne and Supernovas
Frankly, My Dear . . . Effervesce, baby.
- And They Say Getting There is Half the Fun. . .
The Three Writing Amigos. . . and a Photobombing Flight Attendant
- What If We’re Not Drowning?
What If We’re Not Drowning?
Of course, y’all know I couldn’t choose just five. Right? I mean, there were hundreds of posts for me to choose. And can I just say narrowing it down was like the first time I baked those biscuits from Lindsay Reine’s Cookbook. #epicfailure
Having said that, I give you the Honorable Mention:
#EmbraceTheCrazy: Climb the Mountain
Frankly, My Dear . . .: Latch and Climb.
Now it’s your turn: What are some of your favorite posts from around the blogosphere? Are you a blogger? Which ones are you most proud of?
TWEET THIS: Five Things Friday: Frankly, Favorites. @RealMojo68 #franklymydear #amblogging
TWEET THIS: What are some of your favorite blog posts? @RealMojo68 #amblogging
With a full computer and coffee mug,
Happy reading!
~Molly Jo
And Frankly, My Dear . . . That’s all she wrote!
Aug 16, 2013 |
Five Things Friday at Frankly, My Dear…
Remember the CBS show NUM3ERS? That was a great show. I loved every episode. How Charlie showed his big brother Don that crimes don’t have to be solved with force. That sometimes brains are better than brawn. That while human nature is unpredictable, numbers are always reliable.
Y’all know my theory of One. It’s pretty much the best number in the world, because it’s a beginning. A start. The foundation upon which anything else is built. Because I’m not God, I can’t create something out of nothing. I need to add to what’s already there.
Yeah. I really like the number One.
This week’s Five Things Friday takes a bit of a different turn. Instead of listing tangible Things, it’s more of a this-is-what-I-think-and-feel post.
It started last week when the worlds of several friends began to crumble. A death. A divorce. A sickness. Compounded by the typical wearing-down that life can bring. We prayed with each other. For each other. We reached out, we accepted. And it’s been a great comfort. We found security in not being alone. We found Safety in Numbers.
People need people. We need to know we matter especially to those who matter to us. A “hi” here, a cup of coffee there. A friendly text or phone call. Reaching out is one of the greatest things we can do for someone else. Even if we’re hurting. Even if we’re struggling in some way (and who isn’t)?
People need people.
Reaching out takes the focus off ourselves and lets someone else know they’re not alone. Their situation is unique. They are one-of-a-kind. But they (YOU) are not alone. And reaching out bonds us together. It gives us that fortitude we need to continue.
And let’s face it… when someone reaches out to you, doesn’t it make you smile, just a little? Even if they don’t get it. Even if they can’t comprehend what you’re going through. Even when no one else knows what’s happening in your world. Doesn’t it make it better when someone comes alongside you for a bit of the journey?
So what are you waiting for? Be that person for someone else! I like asking the hard questions. “How are you, really?” “What’s honestly going on?” “Did this or that get resolved?” “What are you thinking right this moment?” I like being a person that others can trust, want to trust. I like being a person others can reach out to when they don’t think they have someone. I like being a friend.
I like being a friend.
In Matthew 18:20 Jesus tells us, “For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.” Certainly, our relationship with God is singularly individual. But it’s also communal. Just as you have a singularly individual relationship with your spouse, each child, each friend, and everyone who crosses your path. You’re One. I’m One. And together, we’re more.
Your efforts may not be returned. They may be ignored or worse, trampled upon. They’re still important. If for no reason other than you’re capable of showing compassion.
That’s my first for this Five Things Friday. To tell you how important you are.
You matter. Period.
2. Just a thought, but who’s more protected: someone with one person on her side, or the one with ten? Do you walk a dark street at night alone if you don’t have to? Do you make the tough decisions without talking to anyone else first? Would you rather send one person into battle or a hundred? I find great Safety in Numbers. Great comfort, joy, fun, and encouragement. I’m a bit of an awkward social butterfly, but I do so love going out and meeting people.
3. I enjoy cooking big. Most times, it’s just for me and Dot. But I love those once-a-week cooking moments that provide great leftovers (and fewer cleanups!). I’d rather cook four chicken breasts at once and know she has lunch ready the next day, and often, dinner as well. I’d rather make a huge pot of soup and freeze half of it for later. Less dishes, more family time. And I’m a Big Fan of the grab-and-go ease of having something already prepared for my own lunch. I’m not so big on making lunch myself each morning.
4. My friend Danny helped push me toward self-publication two years ago with this great comment:
“Would you rather write something that five million people read once, or something that five people read a million times?”
In all honesty, the latter. And so if my niche is a smaller market, I’m okay with that. Five million is a big number. And to be recognized by five million readers would be spectacular, being remembered forever by five is a big more wonderful. Sometimes there’s Safety in (Smaller) Numbers, too.
5. One is a great number. It’s the start to everything. But it’s not the conclusion. You can’t have a collection of something if you only have one. “How do you like my spoon?” or “What do you think of my stamp?” just isn’t as special as an assortment. That doesn’t mean you have to collect everything. I love Jim Shore Disney miniatures, but only certain ones. I adore coffee mugs. I stopped collecting cats after Sparkles became the fifth member of our fur family.
Sparkles
I also think it’s a bit punny that this post should be under the “Five Things Friday” umbrella. I guess there really is Safety in Numbers.
Where do you find Safety in Numbers?
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
You may also enjoy reading:
The Friday Five – STORIES
Five Things Friday – TRAVEL
Five Things Friday: Everything Old is NEW Again
Five Things Friday: POETRY
Five Things Friday: The Big Easy
TGIF: One
If you link up a Blog post, make sure to add the button/backlink to your post so your people can find you here along with other great contributors!
Apr 15, 2013 |
THUNK.
And then, again.
THUNK.
That’s what my friend Lisa says these types of writings do for her. When God uses me to write His message on her heart. She gets thunked.
As you’ve undoubtedly noticed from my incredible lack of writing lately, there’s not been a lot of thunking going on. Sorry, Lisa.
I need a respite. A retreat. I need to find a way to afford a weekend getaway to disconnect from the world and reconnect with my daughter, my writing, and my God. I need nature. To spend time in His world and renew my view. I need refreshing.
I’m tired. I’m tired all the time lately. The Cookbook Project was so fulfilling, so successful. So exhausting. Through the end stages of ordering product and processing orders, I fell under a bout of anemia. It doesn’t happen often. But if I don’t take care of myself, it can affect me.
I was already tired. So I didn’t cook too much in the last month. We ate leftovers and easy fixings: toast, eggs, oatmeal. It’s not like a homecooked meal. But I tried. Sometimes. And sometimes I didn’t. Which is why my iron levels dropped. I didn’t make the connection until one morning the dark circles under my eyes were darker. And not going away. And neither was my fatigue.
And then I remembered. I’m borderline anemic and I hadn’t eaten meat for much longer than a week. Neither had I taken vitamins.
My eczema has flared up as well. Rough, dry, itchy patches on my legs and hands. Yeah. Real attractive, right? The problem with eczema is the more it flares up, the more I rub/scratch, the more it flares up. Ugh. Talk about your Catch-22. My eczema is a result of cold, dry weather, weather changes, dietary changes, and stress. Hmm. Any of those happen lately? Let me think… I’ll take (e) for All of The Above, Alex.
Just about ten days ago I made a wonderful discovery. Something I’d not known before. Something which makes people who hate the internet, appreciate this information highway just a little. Anemia and eczema are connected.
Awesome.
I mean it. What a sigh of relief to know I don’t have a buzzillion things wrong with me; but rather one thing that is affecting me in a buzzillion ways. If I can get the anemia under control, the eczema will follow.
I’m still tired. Greatly overwhelmed. But I’m hopeful. I don’t expect my body to rebound after one red-meat meal. It will take a little time. Hope is a beautiful thing: Hope, in itself, offers promise and peace.
The anemia isn’t the only cause of my eczema. I need to release my worries and concerns. I need my body to let go of the stress it’s holding on to. That’s so much easier said than done. Am I right?
Let’s have a show of hands: Who has worries? Who has concerns? I thought so.
Worries and concerns aren’t unique. Troubles are a natural part of life. But doesn’t it seem that there are more worries and concerns lately? Isn’t the world around you more troubled than it used to be? Are you losing sleep, too? The deep-breathing thing doesn’t always help, does it? Yeah. Me either.
There’s a lot I’m not doing because I’m so tired. I’ve been unable to tend to my yardwork. I haven’t visited friends as often. And I’m not writing. Not really. I haven’t touched the novel for over two months. I haven’t even read my Bible.
My fatigue makes me feel like a failure. And causes me concern. These projects that aren’t getting done: how detrimental are these delays?
Today was it. That moment when I finally spoke aloud the words I knew were welling up inside of me. “I don’t have energy to be happy right now. I need replenishment.” Thankfully, blessedly, God heard me.
Dot nudged me to go to Church with her. I wanted to just stay in bed. But she wasn’t having any of that. I knew there would be a reason for me to go, so I went. We unexpectedly met some of my Very Favorite People there, who invited us to lunch at IHOP after.
Hey. Free food. I don’t have to cook. And I get to enjoy their company? Yeah. I’ll bite that apple. [Yes, my chocolate-chocolate chip pancakes were delicious. Thank you asking, Kenny.] Two hours later we finally disbanded. And I felt fed. Loved. Comforted. And a bit replenished.
I’ve been waiting for a Big Miracle, when the little ones are right in front of me. I can’t conquer the world. But I can conquer one task. At least, I can start.
So tonight, rather than watch TV, I turned it off and decided to pick up my Bible. I subscribe to one of those little daily prayer magazines. I haven’t looked at it in months. I figured it would be a good way to edge back into the Nightly Prayer Routine. My focus is easily distracted these days, so I can use all the guidance I can get.
After saying goodnight to Dot, I went to my room where the first distraction came about. My adorable cats were cuddled up, waiting for me. I also wanted to post an Instagram photo of my new fox necklace. That’s a separate story; but this part is important: as I was looking at the photos from those I follow, one lovely young lady posted this:
“So do not fear, for I am with you;
do not be afraid or dismayed,
for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you;
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”
She posted it as a reminder to herself that He is always here. But I think God had her post it so she could THUNK me with it.
In this moment, before I started my Bible reading and prayer time, God is already soothing my soul. I am so very afraid of how terrible our finances are. I am so very worried about getting through each day. I don’t know what to do or where to turn.
But God does. And He chose someone else’s troubles to tell me.
And it doesn’t stop there. After reading that, and feeling a slight rejoicing well up inside me, I opened my little magazine. Today’s verse of the day is Isaiah 35:3-10. Isaiah is a book filled with stories of Strength and Endurance. Just look at the first word in these first two verses:
“Strengthen the feeble hands,
steady the knees that give way;
say to those with fearful hearts,
‘Be strong, do not fear;
your God will come,
he will come with vengeance;
with divine retribution
he will come to save you.'”
I guess now I should tell you that before I read, I wrote. My journal is full of letters to God. Pouring my heart out, praising Him in thanks, offering up prayers for others. As you can imagine, tonight’s entry was full of phrases like “Rescue me” and “Fight for me” and “Why is this so hard?” and “What do I do?” I knew He would hear me. Am I so tired that I’m not hearing the answer?
And then I read Isaiah.
That alone made me giggle a little.
You see, many years ago, in choir, I was known as the Teddy Bear Rescue Mission. I’ve always collected teddy bears. Still do, when I get the chance. About ten years ago, I was going through a very rough time and constantly seeking God’s presence. I asked Him to specifically show Himself to me in ways that were meant only for me. Over several months, He blessed me. With bears. Abandoned teddy bears I found on the side of the road, took home and cleaned up. There’s Roadie, Faith, and especially Isaiah. Isaiah was a brand new Ty Beanie Baby bear that happened to be in the middle of the road just as I drove up and stopped for a signal. I only had to open my door, reach down and pick him up. To this day, that bear is a symbol of God’s promise to care for me personally, individually, and intimately. He knows me and knows not only what I need for my body, but for my mind, emotions, and soul. He continues to refresh and replenish me. Even if the world doesn’t see it. Even if the bills still don’t get paid. Even if my anemia and eczema doesn’t go away.
Bears are awesome creatures. They are big. Strong. Yet cuddly. Furious and ferocious. And I have always loved them. And foxes remind me of Disney’s Robin Hood. They are beautiful, quick, quiet. Each of these wildlife animals command respect and admiration and awe. They don’t worry. They live the lives they are designed to live. You don’t see a bear trying to be a zebra, or a fox imitating a bird. They don’t worry about tomorrow.
There are approximately 365 mentions in the Bible to “not fear”. The variations are “Don’t be afraid,” “Do not fear,” and “fear not.” 365. That’s one for every day of the year. I’d say if God says it that much, He must have known we’d need the reminders.
I didn’t have to get away to connect with nature. I didn’t need a retreat to feel restored. And I don’t have to worry about my bills and budget.
I needed only to open my eyes. And be the best Molly Jo I know how. The rest will take care of itself. Somehow.
Faith Like a Fox
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote.
You may also enjoy reading:
The Bear Rug ~ A Heritage Story
A Lesson to Trust
Give Us This Day…
What I Learned on Women’s Retreat [The Big Whammy!]
Destination Mission Inn
Jan 10, 2013 |
Dear Mom,
You know I love you. You know, next to my daughter, you’re the most important person to me on this earth. I love that we are Three Generations of Desert Women: strong, durable. Louis L’Amour would be the first to praise your character. How tough you are, how strong and resourceful and faithful and determined. You are our rock, our foundation, our example. You’ve taught us how to forge our way through instead of turning back to the comfort of mediocrity.
And I want to be just like you when I grow up. And I want to be you for my daughter.
The other day, two lovely old ladies came into the office. Let’s call them Beatrice and Victoria. They were wonderful. I watched them drive up in an older but well-cared for vehicle. The driver carefully stepped out and helped the other from the passenger seat. They slowly, gently walked up to the sidewalk and stepped into the office, laughing at how age has slowed their bodies but not their minds.
I knew instantly they were special. They were friends, good friends. Perhaps the best. They might even have been sisters; they looked similar and age had drawn them more alike in later years. Their crows’ feet were in the same place, their lips crinkled in the same way.
Victoria, the younger of the two, helped Beatrice into a chair then sat in the one next to her. They introduced themselves and it was then I realized Beatrice was the 92-year-old mother to 75-year-old Victoria.
They needed changes to their insurance policy. But they didn’t want one to incur the loss of discount by making the change. I offered several compromises, and as they sat at my desk discussing their options I could only think, “I want to be them.”
These wonderful women finished each others’ sentences. They smiled and laughed at conversations only they were aware of. And in the few minutes they were in my presence, I was enthralled with the closeness they exhibited. Their friendship, their care, and their attitude toward the world. These are two women who made it through many hard times, and didn’t let it get them down. These are two women who clung together and still manage to laugh at life.
Promise me, in another 40 years or so, we’ll still be just like them. Promise me we’ll laugh at these hard times, learn our lessons, and laugh out loud. A lot.
Promise me, when I’m older then than you are now, that we’ll still be best friends. And walk into someone’s office and make them smile.
And want to be just like us.
With much love, hugs, and laughter,
Your loving daughter,
~Me
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
