Sixty-Eight Foreboding

Sixty-Eight

Foreboding

8 October 1824

I have been thinking these past few days about how it is that I am going to face Father again.  For it has become clear to me that face him, I must.  It seems that the only way for me to have a clear conscience is to forgive him, and to forgive him, I needed to meet with him and ask some questions.  I would have liked to forgive without knowing anything further.  But I could not do so.

Two nights ago, I met with my Class Meeting, and we discussed this at length.  It seems that my obstacle of forgiveness has become more worthy of discussion than this person’s envy of their neighbor’s house, or that person’s temptation to drink.  Those other problems, and more, were prayed over, and were discussed, yes, but mine came to the fore. I do not know if it is proper for me to go into detail anything very specific that happens in a Class Meeting, for we are covenanted to not speak of those things.  I will just say that we had an extended discussion, and an even more extended prayer which was added to by every member of our class, even the more shy ones.  And that prayer was so earnest and heartfelt, that I was brought to tears. 

By the time the meeting ended, I had the resolve to meet with Father.  I needed to do it quickly, before I lost my nerve.

So it was that yesterday morning, John came to carry me to my parents’ house.  We rode double on Farthing, most of the time in a slow walk so that John and I could talk.  John was so reassuring and kind and gentle with me.  He alone now knows the depths of what is in my heart, and he alone is my rock.  I would like to say that Jesus is such a rock, and I am coming closer and closer to truly putting Him first in my life, but I am a poor soul who is struggling, and for now, my trust is more completely in this one human whom I love more than anything.

I cannot describe the details of whether there were birds or flora along the way, or clouds in the sky, for I did not notice.  My thoughts were centered on what I was going to say.

We arrived at my parents’ house at about nine in the forenoon.  Nan had gone to Daniel’s to look after little Thomas, and Mother was occupied with making bread.  We knocked on the door, as this no longer is my home, and Mother opened it with an expression of surprise, but with a hug and a kiss on my cheek.  She looked at John and then at me, and I think immediately drew the wrong conclusion of the purpose of our visit.  As much as I wanted to say that we were there for my parents’ blessing on our engagement, this was not true.

Mother invited us in to the parlor and waited for one of us to talk.  John and I had agreed that this must be my discussion with Father, but that he would be there with me every moment.  I told Mother that I had come to speak to Father.  She said that he was upstairs in my former room.  

John and I ascended the stairs, very slowly, me first, then John.  I felt as though I had chains around my ankles that I was dragging with me.   Mother stayed behind in the parlour. 

The door to the bedroom was open. I saw that a high wing-back, goose down filled  chair had been placed near the bed that I had not seen before.  Father was sitting in the chair, dressed still in his night clothes, but seemingly strong enough to face what was coming.