As I write, two roses adorn my workspace. Having this little bit of nature at my desk helps pass the long days of COVID quarantine work. But there is also deeper meaning from these blooms, aptly named “Secret”.
“Secret” Hybrid Tea Rose from my garden in a delicate vase from Berkshire Pottery
These two roses came from my yard – my little piece of the planet. Three new rose bushes sit atop a hill in my yard. They were planted this May after my first surgery for breast cancer. I wanted to find a way to honor the loss of part of my body and it seemed fitting to add a plant to my yard to remind me of the growth that has come through this experience (credit goes to my sister who suggested the idea of a plant or tree). The night before my surgery, I got some finger-paint and made prints of my breasts (I know this sounds strange, but hear me out). I wanted to have some tangible reminder of this physical part of my being that nourished my children and was a part of my physical identity as a woman.
New rose bushes in the front yard planted along the walkway.
A few weeks after surgery, I went to a local nursery and found three rose bushes. One was called “Secret” which is described as having “perfume worth bragging about”. The blooms were a cream color brushed with rich pink on the tips. New growth is set off by mahogany-red new foliage. The next was called “Pink Traviata”, named for a mutation of a variety called Traviata. The bloom is a deep pink old fashioned flower with overlapping petals. The final rose “Sweet Mademoiselle” has double blooms with color that varies. In the heat, they are a lighter pink. When first brought home, they were a vibrant pink. Getting the roses into the car, two of the “Sweet Mademoiselle” roses broke off, one fully bloomed and another in the bud stage. I was very sad about it, but decided it was somewhat symbolic given that my cancer had been fully formed on my right side (leading to the mastectomy) and there was a small sign that something “of concern” was on the left (leading to the double mastectomy). It turns out, the left side showed cancer, DCIS, in the left, so it was a good decision. When the roses were planted, one of the prints was placed into the soil around the plants.
Sweet Mademoiselle and Pink Traviata roses with oak leaf hydrangea.
Throughout my recovery, the blooms have continued. I look out the window on a regular basis to see if I can spot a touch of color indicating a new bloom is ready. I’ve brought many inside keeping them at my desk and the side of my bed. As I leave my house (only occasionally due to COVID) for medical appointments, I can keep track of the roses on a more regular interval. They get a morning drink of water and, just this past week, they got some extra nutrients for the soil. The roses have been a source of encouragement and symbolic meaning.
Pink Traviata, a double bloom of deep pink. Though the leaf was chewed beyond recognition, the rose still bloomed.
Over the past few weeks as temperatures climbed into the 90s every day, the roses sent out new foliage. I am reminded that the main job of a leaf is to make food for a plant, using sunlight for energy and to take water from the ground and carbon dioxide from the air. The rose has struggled with unwelcome insects chewing the new leaves, blooms, and stems. Each morning during watering, the rose is given a shower with specific focus on getting rid of the unwanted pests. Sometimes this takes surgical precision with the delicate stream from organic insecticidal soap. It isn’t lost on me how similar this is to my recent surgery experience. The part of my body removed was designed to provide nourishment, just like the rose’s leaves. Like my rose bushes, there are unwanted pests and other challenges. Sometimes those must be removed. With the skilled radiologists seeing what needed to be removed and surgeons trained to remove it, I am able to have the unwanted part of me removed. Also symbolic, in order to cut the rose, I must also contend with the thorns. Henry David Thoreau once said, “Truths and roses have thorns about them”.
This morning, the bushes were filled with blooms. I marveled at how beautiful the blooms were. It seems the insects had left some of the blooms alone to fully bloom. The leaves; however, did have some large bites out of them, but I can make peace with that given that the rose isn’t diminished by the loss of a few leaves. Making peace with pests and invasion, of all sorts, seems to be one of my jobs these days.
“Take time to smell the roses” – Proverb
Pink Traviata
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In 1928 at the Founder’s Day Exercises of Sweet Briar College, President Emily Watts McVea wrote prayers for the occasion:
O God, lift my soul to your mountaintops and grant that from their summits my eyes may see the true vision and purpose in my life.
86 years later, President McVea’s words were repurposed for a very different kind of service. On Saturday of reunion weekend, 2015, Sweet Briar College was doing the very opposite of what President McVea intended by her prayers. I am pretty sure she would not appreciate her words being used in a service intended as the College’s last. In tribute to her, I honor her words and others from the 2015 Service of Remembrance along with my own reflections on reunion….
On Monument Hill, the highest spot on Sweet Briar’s 3,000 acres, alumnae sat and stood in a somber circle around the Fletcher family plot for a Service of Remembrance — intended to be the final service at Sweet Briar College. Alumnae mourning their College co-mingled with those fighting for its future. Each heard a different message. Those quitting heard words of ending, closure and death.. Those fighting heard words of hope, continuance and resurrection..
O God, the source of strength, you are my strength. In you I find power for the real work of my life. No difficulties can overwhelm me, no task can frighten me, for I know that abiding in your, as my days are, so shall my strength be.
Attending a reunion is always a special time. Returning to a special place of any kind brings about a sense of anticipation. For graduates of Sweet Briar College, reunion is like coming home.
Turning off the driveway from Route 29, a long tree-lined driveway winds its way towards campus. Bright pink and green signs welcoming alumnae lined the route. “Welcome Alumnae”, “We’ve Been Waiting for You”. Within hours, banners of protest were hung across campus including the entrance sign adding meaningful words…
Driving onto campus the signs read “Welcome Alumnae” and another “We’ve been waiting for you…”
This reunion promised to be an epic one. On March 3, the President and Board announcing their intention to close the College declaring the 2015 commencement would be its last and that reunion would be perhaps the final one as well. Since then, Sweet Briar has divided itself — emotionally, legally, physicially — between those who wish to quit and those who are fighting closure.
“Girls Quit, Women Fight” banner hung outside Benedict Hall at Sweet Briar College, the night of what the College declared “it’s final reunion”.
While some people heard the news and quietly accepted it – quitting. Others immediately organized – fighting.
Some came to campus with a sense of resignation. You could tell these people throughout the weekend. They walked through as if they were seeing something for the last time. Their hands paused on banisters touched many times. They took photos with familiar landmarks, sometimes shaking their head or shedding a tear. When I found myself in conversations with them, they used phrases like “it’s sad”, “inevitable…”; “too bad…”
O God, you Infinite Calm, let me rest in your peace. Quiet the anxieties of my life; hush the agitation of my heart; still the busy flutter of unnecessary and futile activity. In calm strength, let me pursue my daily work resting on your sure promise. Lead me beside still waters of peace through green valleys of love and hope.
Others came to campus as fighters. They, too, took in their campus in a different way. These fighters; however, did not approach each set of friends or venues as a “last time” or a goodbye. Rather, they savored campus protectively and thoroughly. You could see them gaze over a familiar landscape with a sense of purpose. Some chose not to come to campus at all because they didn’t wish to put a single penny into the accounts of those not committed to the future.
Taking in campus with the future in mind.
O Almighty God, source of knowledge, lover of wisdom, we ask your blessing this day on the community, past and present, of Sweet Briar College. Grant to us earned purpose, the strength to persevere, and a steadfast faith in the value of human life. We realize that we are all scholars and learners together, searching diligently for truth.
The division in the 2015 Reunion for Sweet Briar is one I hope we will never repeat. While some attended events on campus, others gathered off campus. The majority of my class attended off-campus events which were forward-looking and hopeful.
My Class of 1988, normally very active had just two people for the opening events. During the picnic, I had the unsettling experience of meeting several people resigned to closure of the College including the sister-in-law of the current President who said she is taking “no position”. Thankfully, my classmates were all actively working for the future.
The few and proud members of the Class of 1988 at the opening picnic.
May we rejoice in our opportunities to play, in our friendships, and in all the joys experienced….
Class of 1988 classmates – one all the way from Singapore — attended the alternative event.
Yes, this would be a reunion like no other…
The place that felt the most home-like reunion weekend was faculty row. The Whitcombs, Claudia Chang – homes I visited as a student were open and united with determination for Sweet Briar.
Saturday morning my husband and I visited downtown Lynchburg, a thriving Farmer’s Market unfolded along several blocks. Unique food trucks from cider donuts to fish tacos to bagels and fresh juice lined Main Street. We found a delicious latte and breakfast sandwich at the White Tavern. Lynchburg teemed with life: Children, college-age groups, senior citizens. Pianos donated by community members were tucked into storefronts decorated with whimsical and meaningful designs. I watched a woman play a beautiful Bach piece while her son nodded slowly, transfixed. It was only after enjoying the music for several minutes that I realized the piano was designed by a Sweet Briar College student.
Above all, grant us through our work and all our experience to understand more clearly your beauty, your harmony, and your truth.
This is a marvelous College town. Randolph College, Lynchburg College, Liberty University and Sweet Briar College compliment strong businesses and a vibrant arts scene. Everywhere we went there were references to Sweet Briar from signs in windows of support to business cards to fellow alumnae walking through town.
Leaving Lynchburg, we drove the business route back to campus along the road I remembered. The towns of Madison Heights, Monroe and Amherst are clearly stronger than when I attended College from 1984-1988. National chains mixed with family-owned business of all kinds unfolded along Route 29. Even small florist shops were built with Georgian architecture. This is Virginia charm at its best.
Before returning to campus, I met up with a group I had only previously known by phone and email (daily!) – the Major Gift Task Force members. We planned to meet up at one of the alternative events. It turned out to be at a lovely vineyard, Rebec, founded by the father of long-time dance faculty at Sweet Briar, Ella Magruder. While hundreds of alumnae flowed into the event, our group met each other (many for the first time only knowing each other previously through phone calls) and discussed the importance of this weekend for a final push for giving. We were blessed by Ella Magruder stopping by to tell us how much she and the faculty appreciate the group’s efforts.
The saving Sweet Briar Major Gift Task Force meets for the first time in person.
Endure us with abounding enthusiasm for real greatness, respect for the valuable accomplishments of the past, and a never failing belief in the possibilities of human attainment.
Back on campus, it was time for the hike to Monument Hill. The skies were clear with temperatures climbing into the 90s. We hiked ahead of the crowd in order to look back.
From the beauty of this campus may we learn to love and understand beauty everywhere.
Bagpiper leads walkers from campus.
Walk to Monument Hill.
A view through the trees.
Amazing forest on 3,000 acres.
My reunion companion…
Bag piper leads the annual procession of walkers to Monument Hill.
Once on Monument Hill, it was back to the surreal dichotomy of quitters and fighters. It began with an invocation, “For what may be the last time together….” My husband leaned over to me and whispered, “Is this a funeral???” “NO!”, I whispered.
Endure us with abounding enthusiasm for real greatness, respect for the valuable accomplishments of the past, and a never failing belief in the possibilities of human attainment.
It was a very nice service. It was very polite. It was very “Sweet Briar”. No. One. Said. A. Thing. I couldn’t help myself. As the Chaplain (who isn’t a Chaplain since the College hasn’t funded a Chaplain for quiet a while and we have a very kind local Pastor helping) said his final “Amen”,I must admit I did YELL, “SAVE SWEET BRIAR” to which the majority of the crowd responded with a cheer :).
View from Monument Hill towards campus.
Walkers come into the woods.
Fletcher family plot on Monument Hill.
A bag piper leads…
Heads bowed…
Laying daisies for the Fletcher family. Indiana Fletcher Williams established Sweet Briar College as a perpetual memorial to her daughter.
Angel over Daisy William’s monument.
Daisy’s arm uplifted.
Gate to the plot.
An angel over Daisy Wiliams’ final resting places raises her arm to the sky.
Salute to Daisy with arm upstretched!
Saving Sweet Briar photo.
Many left their events to join in.
It felt good to cheer and voice our intention at a “pep rally” of sorts. At 8:15pm, while the sun was setting, alumnae came from both ends of campus for a group photo. We sang the “Holla, holla” cheer and we shouted, “WE WILL SAVE SWEET BRIAR!” Having been on Monument Hill that day and seeing Daisy’s arm uplifted, it occurred to me that it would be a meaningful tribute to lift our arms like she does. After all, we ARE the perpetual memorial of Daisy that Indiana Fletcher Williams intended.
Even the official events divided those who were on campus. One event was held in the Field House, the other in the conference center. Between the two, those who are working to save Sweet Briar met in the quad for a photo together. Later, Claudia Chang, a beloved Anthropology professor (and leader of the faculty suit) hosted a party until the wee hours of the morning.
Endure us with abounding enthusiasm for real greatness, respect for the valuable accomplishments of the past, and a never failing belief in the possibilities of human attainment.
I know I will never be a quitter for Sweet Briar. I will fight to the end alongside women from many generations united to save a place we love.
Above all, grant us through our work and all our experiences to understand more clearly your beauty, your harmony, and your truth.
As alumnae leave Sweet Briar College this weekend, in just a few days they face two important moments. Important legal challenges will be in court, including the Virginia Supreme Court.
President McVea’s words are a comfort in these times:
Winds of God, blow through my soul with healing and invigorating power. Enliven my desire for righteousness; cleanse me from self-seeking, from moodiness, from indifference.
Winds of God, bear my soul on the quiet breezes of the morning, or on the wings of the hurricane. In the calm of the storm, may I find You, the Star of my soul.
Amen
Angel over Daisy William’s monument.
Salute to Daisy with arm upstretched!
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Lessons Learned, Musings, Insights I Don't Want to Forget, Life Hacks, and the Occasional Recipe by Stacey Sickels Heckel Locke
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