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A bowl of Muscadines; the green ones are Scuppernongs.

Dear Faithful Family & Friends,

I am no poet, although my son-in-law, Daniel Stewart, is.  In a recent post, I tried my hand at prose, to communicate the mere essence of a thing, by employing an economy of words. My husband objects, however,  and encourages me to further explain my thoughts.  So, having first offered to you the barest “whiff” of The Fragrance of Scuppernongs, I will offer [in increments] the background story of my fascination with the wild grapes.  Below please find descriptions of the Scuppernong.  Today’s entry is a mere introduction; in future blog entries, I will enlarge on this theme and how it relates to my grandmother and to me.

The Wild Grapes

In September 1984, I was at a small, locally owned grocery store in Tallahassee, when I caught the whiff of a delightful aroma, which immediately transported me back to the NC home and gardens of my grandmother.  Following the scent, I re-discovered ripened Scuppernongs, a fragrance I had not enjoyed since I was a young girl.  It is amazing how a fragrance has the ability to release memories, seemingly forgotten.  In one moment, the memories of my childhood visits to my grandmother’s home came rushing back and I recorded the details, as quickly as I could remember them.  My father, an Air Force officer, was stationed in Japan [from 1956-1957] and my mother and siblings and I remained in Yadkinville, NC.  Since my grandmother’s birthday was September 16, we traveled to her home, in nearby Winston-Salem, NC, to celebrate her birthday, when the Scuppernongs were ripe.  It is the memories of those two years, especially the summer and early autumn of those years, that will provide the backbone for future blog entries.  It’s “just the facts” today.

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Some of my Alert Readers [even Southerners] did not recognize the name of the fruit. Please note that the proper spelling is “Scuppernong,” with a capital “S.”  Evidently, Wikipedia does not know this.  I did not correct the spelling or punctuation in the description below but I did delete the subheadings and references.

The name comes from the Scuppernong River in North Carolina mainly along the coastal plain, where it was first mentioned as a “white grape” in a written logbook by the Florentine explorer Giovanni de Verrazzano while exploring the Cape Fear River Valley in 1524 . . . Sir Walter Raleigh‘s explorers, the captains Phillip Amadas and Arthur Barlowe, wrote in 1584 that North Carolina’s coast was “…so full of grapes as the very beating and surge of the sea overflowed them…in all the world, the like abundance is not to be found.” And in 1585, Governor Ralph Lane, when describing North Carolina to Raleigh, stated that “We have discovered the main to be the goodliest soil under the cope of heaven, so abounding with sweet trees that bring rich and pleasant, grapes of such greatness, yet wild, as France, Spain, nor Italy hath no greater…”

It was first cultivated during the 17th century, particularly in Tyrrell County. Isaac Alexander found it while hunting along the banks of a stream feeding into Scuppernong Lake in 1755; it is mentioned in the North Carolina official state toast. The name itself traces back to the Algonquian word ascopo meaning “sweet bay tree”.

The fruit grows where temperatures seldom fall below 10° Fahrenheit. Injury can occur where winter temperatures drop below 0° Fahrenheit. Some cultivars such as Magnolia, Carlos, and Sterling survive north to Virginia and west to the Blue Ridge Mountain foothills. Muscadines have a high tolerance to diseases and pests. Over 100 years of breeding has resulted in several bronze cultivars such as Carlos, Doreen, Magnolia and Triumph, that are distinguished by being perfect flowered (male and female flower parts together) from the Scuppernong variety with only female flower parts.

The oldest cultivated grapevine in the world is the 400 year old scuppernong “Mother Vine” growing on Roanoke Island, North Carolina. The scuppernong is the state fruit of North Carolina.

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Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings, in her Florida memoirs, Cross Creek, [Scribner’s, 1942, pages 222-223] says this:  “The Scuppernong grape is not a Florida native, but cuttings from old Carolina and Georgia vines have been brought in with many a covered wagon and on many an ox-cart.  The vine thrives here in the dry sandy soil, and on many abandoned clearings, where even the brick chimneys have fallen into dust, a huge Scuppernong will stand, seeming to support the rotten lattice work rather than to be sustained by it, an echo of some dead and gone family struggle for existence.  The purple Scuppernong is rich and fat and unexceptional, but the white Scuppernong, in the lands of loving and expert care, makes a vintage wine that can stand with the best Sauterne.”

Dear Faithful Family & Friends,

Just look at this substantial timepiece on my delicate arm.   I recently bought, for Stephen and me, matching Men’s Timex Ironman Triathalon wristwatches.  Water resistant to 100 meters, they count laps [a maximum of 100], record times, and store workouts, for each session.  You may ask me, “Why not buy the women’s version of this watch for yourself?” Well, the women’s color choices were pink, purple, or baby blue and I preferred black or navy.  And – get this – the women’s version records only a maximum of 50 laps per session!  I don’t mean to sound arrogant but I already swim 50 laps in one session and I plan to incrementally increase my laps in the future!

Wearing this rather hefty chronographer on my wrist, I looked down yesterday and thought, “That’s ironic; I never before thought of myself as an athlete!” Well, in my former life, who would have suspected that I would become an athlete in my 50’s?

Certainly not my teachers, coaches, or fellow students. Do you remember those students in High School Physical Education?  The ones who were always the last to be chosen for teams?  Well, I was one of those students.  I was afraid of the ball, I lacked eye-hand coordination, and I was not aggressive.  I did, however, shine during the Folk Dance Unit of Physical Education and I took years of ballet lessons.   I danced with confidence and joy.  I resumed adult ballet lessons a few years ago and, let me tell you, it may not be a sport but it is very strenuous and demanding!

Certainly not my father, the sports enthusiast, athlete, and coach. Imagine his disappointment:  I was always a “sports zero,” in spite of the fact that I was [brace yourself] a cheerleader and a song leader in high school.  I understood nothing about football the entire four years that I was cheering/song leading.  Eventually, I did kind of get the gist of basketball, however.

Certainly not my husband: When we were newlyweds, he dedicated himself to teaching me tennis and I humored him by huffing and puffing and playing Eliza Doolittle to his Henry Higgins.   A natural athlete, he has [previously] always out-shined me in sports endeavors, such as tennis, running, and hiking.

O, woe was I!  The humiliation of it all!  The deep disappointment!  The loneliness!  I tell you, the life of a sport outcast is too painful for words!

Ahhh, but now the sweet revenge!

I have not yet attended any of my high school reunions.  However, judging from the photographs, it appears to me that not all the former athletes are current athletes.   Is that a kind enough way to say it?

And, now it is Stephen, who is “nipping at my fins,” as he describes it, trying to out-swim me!  I encourage him all that I can, short of slowing down.  Every time I see him gaining on me, in the next lane over, I cannot resist the temptation to speed up!  I see him, out of the corner of my eye, and I start humming a few bars of “Just you wait, Henry Higgins, just you wait!” as I race him to the wall and complete my flip turn just as he touches the wall.  I must say, he has been a very good, um, “sport” about this surprising exchange of roles.

Every time I look down at my Timex, I think how much fun it would be to show my father.   If he were here, he would slap his knees and “hoot” in delight.  After all, he first taught me how to swim!  When I was three or four, I stood on the side of the pool and yelled, “My tine, my tine!” [“My turn!”] because I was so eager for my turn to jump into the pool, where my dad would catch me and teach me to swim to the side.

I may be a late-blooming athlete but I am now committed to life-long fitness.  In fact, I am currently training for Senior Olympics! Only – well — they don’t exactly know about it yet . . .

I decided to wear my new watch every day – not merely on swimming days.  However, please do not get the wrong impression.  I wear it not to boast or call attention to myself.  Nope. I may now be a silver-haired grandmother but I figure nobody messes with a gal wearing a watch like this.

Coram Deo,

Margot

P. S.  In related news, at the FSU Physiology Department, I passed my first fitness evaluation with flying colors!  Emily, the Research Coordinator, fitted me with a heart monitor and, while I was standing or sitting, the monitor did not register because – you guessed it — my heart rate was too slow!   This kind of news makes my physicians very happy!

Dear Faithful Family & Friends,

FSU Morcom Aquatics Center: 50 meter pool

I thought you might enjoy seeing a photograph of “my home away from home:’  the pool where Stephen and I currently swim laps three mornings a week.  Isn’t this place gorgeous?  During the summer, we swam in the 50 meter pool [above].  However, during the academic year we swim in the 25-meter dive pool during the same time [8 am] that the FSU Swim Team works out in the 50-meter pool.  I find the atmosphere very stimulating!  The advantage of the dive pool is that it is 82-83 degrees, which is lovely, except that the outdoor temperature will continue to decrease, throughout the fall and winter.  This makes entering the pool oh-so-inviting but exiting the pool is excruciating! And yes, it does get cold here in North West Florida.

This morning, I swam about 50 laps [one lap is 50 meters] in about 60 minutes. Keep in mind, however, that I swim with fins and paddles.  Swimming with Stephen has motivated me to swim faster and better, as I am very competitive.  He warns me, however, that he is “nipping at my fins.”  My retort is that I am very afraid and will faint after breakfast . . .

Here is a bit of good news!  I have recently been accepted as a subject in an FSU Research Study [Physiology Department] which will run for six months, beginning November 2010.  The study, for post-menopausal breast cancer survivors, will study the effect of exercise and dried plum consumption on bone density.  I will participate in rigorous, supervised exercise, two days a week at FSU, as part of the study.  I can’t wait!  I report for my baseline assessments on October 20 and 27.

At the same time, I will conduct a personal research study in swimming, studying the effect of espresso coffee consumption on swim performance.  The experimental phase will include one cup of espresso before swimming.  The control phase will exclude the cup of espresso before swimming.  I told Stephen that I think the experimental phase is going to last a very long time . . .

Coram Deo,

Margot

Dear Faithful Family & Friends,

Summer 2010:  Margot & Stephen

[Not a great photo but you can see my new “hair-grow,” as opposed to “hair-cut.”]

This week, I received my last Herceptin infusion!  I will continue to take Tamoxifen, for a total of five years.  I am now almost 16 months past the date of my diagnosis [June 2, 2009], I have passed a battery of diagnostic tests, and I appear to be very healthy and strong.

So, what’s next for me?  Well, in three months, in November 2010, I will have my first office visit with and examination by Dr. Broeseker, my new oncologist.  [Dr. Mabry retired.]  If I am still healthy and strong [I am not sure how that will be quantified], Dr. Broesker will contact Dr. Crooms, my surgeon, and I will return to the hospital for the operation to remove the Infusa-Port – oh, happy day!

And, when that happy day arrives, together we can give thanks to the Triune God, for I will have finally made it “to the other side,” a reference that I used earlier in this blog.  At that time, I asked you to continue to pray for me, until the day that I safely reached “the other side” of the “pool,” so to speak.

I am unceasingly grateful for each of you dear family members and friends, who have supported me, above the water, with your faithful prayers, communiqués, gifts, and encouragement!  Some of you, because of your own breast cancer experience, were also with me down in the water, coaching me, and to you I give special thanks!

Speaking of the pool, I continue to be amazed at the progress of Stephen’s swimming proficiency.  One of the keys to his recent rapid improvement has been my purchase of a pair of “optic” swim goggles for each of us.  Before the new goggles, Stephen felt claustrophobic in the pool, as a result of cloudy, blurry sight and “tunnel vision.”  As soon as he put on the new optic goggles, his fear began to dissipate and he made significant progress in his ability.  I only regret that I did not discover optic swim goggles earlier because Stephen had to struggle for over a year without them!

However, in retrospect, I think we learn best after a season of being submerged, as it were, in an environment where our vision is limited.  I wish I could give credit to the person who wisely said, “We see most clearly in the dark.” Is it the presence of the darkness that makes us desperately yearn for the light?  Or does the darkness force us to highly-tune our other faculties, in order to compensate for our reduced ability to see?

At any rate, without those times of darkness, we would never have to depend upon the Triune God and we would not be in a teachable position, to learn the richest lessons.  The season of darkness endures and we must learn to patiently bear it.  When the darkness subsides, we find we have developed, through the suffering, an improved vision, for God has provided for us a better set of lenses.

In this life, I will soon reach a milestone of health, if it pleases God.  Yet, this past year has taught me to increasingly yearn for the presence of the “High King of heaven:  When victory is won, may I reach heaven’s joys, bright heaven’s Sun!” It is through the seasons of suffering that we learn to relax our grip on the fleeting things of this life:  we begin to yearn for the joy, truth, and beauty of the next life.

“Whatever befall,” no matter what my earthly situation is, the Sovereign Triune God is righteous, just, good, and loving because it is His nature to be so.  My circumstances never alter His character. It is for this reason that I sing this hymn:

Be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart; all else be nought to me, save that thou art,

Thou my best thought, by day or by night, waking or sleeping, thy presence my light.

Be thou my wisdom, and thou my true word; I ever with thee and thou with me, Lord!

Thou my great Father; thine own may I be; thou in me dwelling, and I one with thee.

High King of heaven, when victory is won, may I reach heaven’s joys, bright heaven’s Sun!

Heart of my heart, whatever befall, still be my vision, O Ruler of all.”

[–And I pray this prayer:]

“O Lord, increase my faith, strengthen me and confirm me in Thy true faith:

Endue me with wisdom, charity, and patience, in all my adversity, sweet Jesus, say Amen.”

My dear family and friends:  I’ll be continuing to write on this blog, about once a month, on a variety of subjects.  So, please check back often and keep in touch!

Coram Deo,

Margot

Dear Faithful Family & Friends,

The harbingers of fall:  the odontonema strictum [firespike/cardinal guard] is blooming, drawing lots of ruby-throated hummingbirds; time to plant lycoris [hurricane lilies]; the daylight hours are shortening; the morning sunlight enters the windows in a different angle; and the temperature and humidity are dropping slightly!

Here is a review of the highlights of the busy summer just past:

Marmee [Margot] and grandson, Benjamin, [18 months] — floating lessons:

The Annual Blair Clan Family Reunion in Beech Mountain, NC:

Uncle Garrett & Benjamin, on a nature hike:

My nephew, Nathan, and Benjamin at a wildlife sanctuary:

Daddah [Stephen] and Benjamin, on a hike on the Blue Ridge Parkway:

Daddah [Stephen] & Benjamin enjoy the coolness of a mountain brook:

Benjamin enjoys a breakfast smoothie, made by my niece, Rebecca:

Sweet dreams in the mountains:

Coram Deo,

Margot

P. S.  I am feeling extremely well, swimming at least one mile three times a week, coaching swimming, and I have only two more Herceptin infusions!  Thanks for continuing to read this blog and to pray for my continued health!

Dear Faithful Family & Friends,

A positive health update:  I am tolerating [with no side effects] the Herceptin infusions, which will continue once every three weeks, until October 1.  A series of diagnostic tests indicate that my heart is very strong, in spite of the cardio-toxic properties of Herceptin. I am also tolerating the Tamoxifen, with no serious side effects, except some visual blurring.

Stephen & I swim laps — one mile — every other day.  I am very proud of Stephen, who has gone from a non-swimmer [July 2009] to a skilled free-style swimmer [July 2010.] Gaining a swimming buddy, who also happens to my husband, is the first of six gains, in 2009-2010, compared to my loss [diagnosis, surgery, chemo].

The second gain was the birth of Benjamin, now almost 18 months old.  Summer 2009 provided the third gain: the joy of wishing Garrett “Bon Voyage,” as he fulfilled a 10-year desire to travel to Europe. My sister and her husband [Susan & Alan] moved to NC from PA and this was the fourth gain. The fifth gain: Daniel, Haley, and Benjamin moved home to Tallahassee.

The sixth gain: The prayers of all you faithful friends & family!  I must thank you gain for your encouragement and support. Because of all of you,  I survived the losses of the past year. However, I am beginning to realize that it is those very losses [the “bitter“] that offer to me a perspective to increasingly appreciate the gains [the “sweet“]!

In addition to swimming, I have my own Personal Trainer!  I highly recommend him:  Ever since we started meeting, I have lost weight and trimmed inches!  Here are photos of him, leading me through my intensive paces:

Nature Walks

Water Sprinkler Run & Jump

Playground Gym/Obstacle Course

Coram Deo,

Margot

Mother’s Day 2010

Dear Faithful Family & Friends,

I wonder if you remember this custom, as I do, growing up in the 50’s and 60’s?  On Mother’s Day, girls and women wore a corsage to church:  a red carnation to honor a mother still living and a white carnation in memory of a mother no longer living.  The custom faded away before my mother died in June 2005.  So, here is my  “white corsage: ” a tribute to her.  To see photos of my mother, view the entry, “The Heroes Among Us:  First in a Series.”

The Mother I Never Knew:  A Tribute to Margaret Elizabeth “Peg” Van Hoy Blair

Born January 11, 1918 and Died June 20, 2005

Several years ago, my mother visited our Payne home in Tallahassee and recognized the cover illustration of a book on the coffee table.  She remarked, “Oh, I know a friend who is reading that same book, I Never Knew Jesus.” We shared a chuckle about that, because the title of the book was, in fact, The Jesus I Never Knew.

During the long, sad months of my mother’s illness, in 2005, I began to think about The Mother I Never Knew. What portrait might emerge, if I discovered a perspective of my mother that I never knew or appreciated – until now?

In my search for clues, I reviewed the photographs of my mother.  The year before Mother’s illness, my sisters [Susan and Amy] and I gathered the generational family photographs and created heirloom albums for my parents.  I relished the figure of little Margaret, circa 1922, the beloved child, a preschooler:  She wore a simple, handmade dress, Buster Brown shoes, wrinkled little socks, a bowl-cut hairstyle, a gentle smile, and a mischievous glint in her eyes.  I turned the album page and gazed upon the likenesses of Alton and Margaret, the college sweethearts, circa 1940, on a Guilford College Choir Trip.  On the next page, I pored over impressions of Alton & Margaret at Reynolds Park, in Winston-Salem, NC, during the summer of 1941, when they won the Swing Dance Competition.  As a sweetheart, Margaret’s eyes were laughing, full of happiness and young love.  I examined reflections of Margaret, as a bright-eyed, young newlywed, in 1946, on a crisp, fall morning, ready to walk to work at The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, where Alton was in graduate school.  I turned the page and studied the countenance of Margaret, in 1948, as a young mother.  Naturally, her eyes looked a little tired.

Page after page, I scrutinized the images of my mother’s face, through the years and decades, births and birthdays, school days and graduations, vacations and camping trips, holidays and family reunions, marriages and anniversaries:  Mother’s eyes were proud because of our accomplishments, wistful as we left home; her eyes were sometimes tired and sad, as she faced the “challenges and changes” of life:  military transfers, empty nest, retirement, loss, sorrow, and grief.

I wondered now, as I examined the photographs:  Besides being “our Mom,” did Mother have dreams and hopes of her own, separate from us?  I never thought to ask her.  Dreams and hopes are fragile.  In a home like ours, with four, active children, she probably “kept her hopes and dreams in the back of her mind, the only safe place in the house.”*

I continued to rummage around, gleaning hints of The Mother I Never Knew: I scanned my mother’s books and retrieved her college Psychology textbook from 1970.  That year, I was eighteen years old and a senior in high school.  My mother was 52.  After a twenty-five year hiatus [while raising her four children] Mother intended to return to her vocation as a secondary English teacher.  In preparation, she took evening college courses during that academic year.  Every afternoon, I arrived home and greeted my mother.  Her eyes were deep in study and her mind was focused and sharp.  I was proud of my mother.

After I left home for college, Mother served [briefly] as a substitute teacher and [for several years] as a community volunteer but she never returned to a full-time teaching profession.  I was disappointed in that; I had always hoped she would have a life beyond being “just a mom.”  If she had any regrets, she never mentioned them.

As I perused my mother’s 1970 textbook, I realized that now, in 2005, I was 52 years of age – the same age as she, when she studied for that course.  I turned the pages of the textbook and read my mother’s notes and comments, in the margin of every page.  Her notes revealed to me her hopes and dreams:  to understand herself, her family, and her community; to fulfill her role in the world and to make her life significant.  At the age of 52, she had personal goals and aspirations – some achieved and some yet unfulfilled — just as I did now, at 52 years of age.

I mused on this and continued to explore, as I organized her belongings.  My mother had a habit of scattering her eyeglasses throughout the house so I gathered, washed, and polished each pair.  I gently placed them together in a box, hoping she would return home soon to reclaim them and resume reading, solving crossword puzzles, and writing [“scribbling”] letters to family and friends.

I chuckled to myself as I found a Mother’s Day gift I had given Mother the year before her illness.  It was a beaded eyeglass “necklace.” I had hoped that she would wear it daily and keep her eyeglasses always at hand.  With the gift, I had enclosed a note card with a brief message.  I found the eyeglass “necklace” in a drawer, where Mother kept gifts that were simply too cherished and valuable to actually use.  She had carefully preserved the note card, treasuring the words, as much as the gift.  I tucked both the “necklace” and the note card into the box, with the eyeglasses, closed the lid, and placed it on my mother’s dresser.  Sadly, Mother never returned home.

The week after my mother died, my sisters and I sorted through my mother’s belongings.  It was a bittersweet task.  As we did this, we remembered, discovered, and appreciated more insights about our mother.  Together, we reviewed the family tree, history, and stories.  We tenderly preserved the very best of my mother’s “vintage” clothing, hats, gloves, and jewelry, remembering anecdotes to share with our daughters.

Later, alone in my mother’s bedroom, I retrieved the box of my mother’s eyeglasses.  I opened the lid and smiled ruefully, as I absorbed the reality that Mother would never come home again to use and then to loose her eyeglasses.  I held the beaded eyeglass “necklace” in my hands and re-read my hand-written note card to her:

Mother’s Day 2004

“Dear Mom, Thanks for always seeing me through the eyes of love.  Love, Margot.”

I had discovered the most important facet of The Mother I Never Knew:  For most of my adult life, I thought my mother lacked perception and careful observation.  I, who am quick to see faults and flaws, was impatient with my mother, who saw only the good in almost everyone.  I had often wondered why my mother did not look to the future and warn me about the various difficult “stages and phases” of life, as a wife and mother.

The truth seemed to be that she chose not to look too closely nor too far ahead.  She tried to enjoy every “stage and phase” and she met every “challenge and change” to the best of her ability, according to the resources that she possessed.  She expected and had every confidence that I would do the same.

The eyeglass “necklace” and note card, my Mother’s Day gift to her, was a reminder of her greatest gift to me:  She was “just a Mom” but she stubbornly looked past the reality of the imperfect person I always was, in order to see the potential of the person I could become.

I am glad that I was able to thank her, before she closed those eyes for the very last time.

Margot Blair Payne, Daughter; The Fourth Week of Pentecost, 2005; Tallahassee, FL

*Paraphrased quote is from the author, Erma Bombeck.

Dear Faithful Family & Friends,

April 2009 – Apalachicola, FL

My sisters [above] and I refer to ourselves as “The Three Treasures.” I borrowed this phrase from an incident in the film, Sarah, Plain and Tall [or perhaps it was from the sequel, Skylark] in which Sarah travels back home to visit her unmarried aunts.  It was Sarah’s grandfather [the father of the aunts] who bestowed on his adult daughters the collective endearment, “My Unclaimed Treasures.” I always loved that term and, so, although each of us is married, I  told my sisters that we were “The Treasures.”

I am almost certain that my sisters, Susan and Amy, will forgive me for not asking permission to post the above photo when I tell you [and them] that this photo, from one year ago, represents one of the most pleasurable days in my life.  A year ago, my sisters traveled to my home for our annual “Sister’s Reunion” and, from Tallahassee, we took a day trip to the charming and historic gulf port town of Apalachicola, FL, near St. George Island. We toured the historic buildings & homes, walked the cobblestone streets, poked around in the antique and gift shops, and enjoyed lunch at a sidewalk cafe.

The ironic thing about this day with my sisters is that I had just received a phone call from the diagnostic laboratory, reminding me that I was scheduled for a mammogram.  I quickly decided to reschedule that appointment for two weeks in the future.  I remember thinking, “I don’t have time for a mammogram now!  Ridiculous! My sisters are in town!” So, I rescheduled the test for May and the rest is history — at least, as it is recorded in this blog [see the first entry.]

Above you see me in a “before” photo, on a care-free day with my sisters, before I received the news that would alter my life.  When that word arrived, I was very glad that my sisters and I had enjoyed our care-free week.  I was fortunate that my “Treasures” would be there to support me throughout the long year, just as we had supported each other in the past. Sometimes we seem like “three peas in a pod;” sometimes our differences exasperate us.  Nevertheless, the essential fact is that we are there for each other, through all the “challenges and changes” of life and I often wonder, “Where would I be without my Treasures?”

So, here’s to you, my Treasures and Unsung Heroes,

Coram Deo,

Margot

The First Week of Eastertide

Dear Faithful Family & Friends,

I apologize for the long delay in updating my blog!  I am doing very well; in fact, since I wrote to you in March, I have been on two “real” trips and one “imaginary” trip.  More about that later!

I continue to receive Herceptin infusions, every three weeks.  I have had no side effects except a little blurry vision on the day of infusion.  I am sad to report that my  breast oncologist in Gainesville, Dr. Robert Carroll, closed his practice:  the insurance companies refused to reimburse him for the cost of the chemotherapy drugs.  I am grateful that Dr. Carroll and his team helped me get through the nightmare of chemotherapy but I am sad for the women in the future who will not benefit from his unique practice.

Dr. Mabry in Tallahassee is now my oncologist; Erin is his nurse and I have received expert care from the practice.

This will be short but, in my next update, I will provide photos and describe my travels.

Coram Deo,

Margot

The Second Week in Lent

Dear Faithful Family & Friends,

Ever since my friend, John Bowers, created this blog, I have thought about the title and photo he chose for me.  I determined that I would create a series for the blog, entitled Margo’s Book Corner. As the photo implies, I like old books: classic books that have stood the test of time.  I agree with Will Rogers who said, “Whenever a new book comes out, I read an old one.” The About section of this blog describes me as “appreciating all things ancient and sacred.” So, here is the first installment of Margot’s Book Corner and Lent is the first subject, which perfectly meshes my two interests:  old, classic books with ancient and sacred traditions.

I am relatively new to Anglicanism and, so, I am trying to deepen my understanding of the meaning of Lent.  For the past few years, my Lenten reading has centered around the book, Bread and Wine:  Readings for Lent and Easter, Plough Publishing House, 2003.  It is a collection of 72 thoughtful and challenging essays, each written by a different author. The six sections of the book are entitled:  Invitation, Temptation, Passion, Crucifixion, Resurrection, and New Life. There are contributions from some my favorite non-living authors: Augustine, Barth, Bonhoeffer, Chambers, Chesterton, Donne, and Lewis; and from some of my favorite living authors:  Wendell Berry, Thomas Howard, Peter Kreeft, Alister McGrath, John Stott, and N. T. Wright.  [Proviso:  I cannot recommend all of the authors; I skip over the authors whom I do not appreciate.]

Here is a new book I am adding to my reading list for Lent.  I learned about it from the blog of my daughter, Haley.   Below she describes Signs of Life by Scott Hahn:

It’s divided into 40 small chapters, (Baptism, the Mass, Marriage, Confession, Pilgrimage, etc.) and so fits perfectly in the 40 days of Lent, if we read one chapter a day. Hahn explains that, in our Lenten sacrifice, be it food or otherwise, “We return it all to God for forty days, not because any of it is ‘bad,’ but because it is indeed very good. Only good things should be offered in sacrifice to God; only the best of the harvest could be offered as a tithe. We give them to God so that we learn not to put anything in God’s place in our lives.”

Isn’t that a great quote?  I have been thinking about this all week and I invite you to think about this, also:  What are the “good things” that we might offer in sacrifice to God during Lent?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[This past Sunday, we sang this beautiful anthem by Franz Peter Schubert:]

Jesus, Lamb of God:  have mercy on us.  Jesus, bearer of our sins: have mercy on us.  Jesus, Redeemer, Redeemer of the world:  Give us your peace, give us your peace.

Coram Deo,

Margot