"I left Barbara with the Emersons," Doc told the family as he entered the sitting-room where they were all still gathered. "Rachel's not doing very well and needs some nursing."
"Is she going to be all right?" Amy asked. Rachel Emerson was a friend of hers.
"I'm not sure yet, Amy, she's pretty sick right now."
"Someone should go and pray with her, perhaps," Andrew suggested, looking at his son.
"Yes, I'll go in a few minutes," Paul agreed slowly, reluctant to go out in the snow.
"I think I'd better go too," Doc said. "Looks like we're in for a bad one." He left then, taking a piece of Amy's pumpkin pie for later. Paul also left soon after to go to the Emerson farm. Someone from the Meeting should be there if Rachel was so ill. When Paul arrived at the Emerson farm, John opened the door to him.
"Looks like a bad storm out there," he said as Paul went to the fire to warm himself. "It's getting worse, I'm afraid."
"What brings thee out on such a night?" John asked.
"Doc told us thy wife was very ill. I came to see if she needed or wanted anything. Is there anything I can do?"
"Thee can pray for her," John said gratefully. "She is very ill, Doc says. I'm not sure she'll make it, Paul."
Paul could see the fear in the other man's face and touched his shoulder lightly. "We'll all pray for her and ask God to heal her," he said, his voice full of reassurance. "Doc brought the young woman who has been staying with thy family to nurse her," John said as they came toward the closed door. Paul said he knew I was there and knocked on the door for admittance.
"What are you doing here?" I asked in some surprise as I opened it.
"I've come to offer prayer for Rachel. Will thee join us?"
"What are you going to pray for?" I asked skeptically.
"For healing. What does thee think I should pray for?"
"Pray for whatever you like," I replied and stepped aside for them to enter. When we neared the bed, Rachel looked up and smiled at her husband.
"John, thee mustn't worry," she managed weakly. "I'm going to be all right."
"I hope thee is right," he said, taking her feverish hand in his.
"Paul, thee has come to pray with me?" She asked, giving him a brief, tired smile. "I've come to pray or talk or whatever thee likes, Rachel. What will it be?"
"We will pray and then talk," she said, offering him her other hand. He took it and laid his other hand on her forehead gently. "That sounds like a fine idea," he agreed. "First, let's ask God to make thee well and then celebrate when He does." I stood by, watching uncertainly. Why raise false hopes in this woman and her husband when she probably wouldn't make it until morning? Her breathing was labored. She held onto consciousness with difficulty. The room fell silent then except Rachel's shallow breathing. I stood at the foot of the bed, watching my patient's weary face.
Paul began to pray then out of the stillness. "Lord, we lift up to thee our sister Rachel," he began quietly. "Lord we know that thy will for us isn't always to be restored to good health. But we ask that this fever be lifted from Rachel's body. We ask thee to restore her to good health that she may have many more years to share with us here in Fair Hill. We thank thee for all the blessings that thee has given us. Continue to be with Rachel, Lord and thy will be done." What if it wasn't God's will that she be healed, I thought as I watched. Or worse, what if there wasn't even a God to listen to his request? As the prayer ended and silence fell again, John added a fervent wish for her recovery but put it all into the hands of God, affirming that He knew best and that His will must be done. After he finished, I noticed that the room was quieter. I could no longer hear Rachel breathing. I came quickly to the side of the bed where Paul stood and saw him gazing down into Rachel's face.
"Is she breathing?" I asked anxiously.
"She's sleeping," he said in a whisper and under his breath he added, "Thank thee Father." John too was watching his wife. At first, he too was anxious but after a moment, I saw his face relax into a smile and tears fill his eyes. I bent to look more closely at Rachel. I saw that her sleep was a natural one. Her breathing had grown regular and deeper. Beads of perspiration were upon her forehead and face. The fever was breaking. "Looks like she'll make it, if she keeps going as she is," Paul said softly, laying her limp hand back on the bed.
"Yes," John agreed. "Our prayers have been answered. She'll be better by morning and up and about in a few days." The three of us left the room then, after making sure the covers were wrapped snugly around Rachel's cooling body.
"I can't tell thee how grateful I am," John said, still wiping a few tears from his face as we went into the kitchen.
"There's no need. I'm as grateful as thee is, or almost," Paul said grasping his friend's hand.
"God has done a wonderful thing here tonight." "Will thee tell the Meeting about it?" John asked.
"I think it would be best if thee did that," Paul suggested. "They'll all be glad to hear Rachel is all right. Who knows? She might even be there to tell us herself."
"Thee will see Barbara home then?" John asked after we had a cup of tea.
"Yes, if thee thinks thee can handle things from here," Paul agreed. I looked tired. He couldn't tell what I might be thinking about all this.
"I can handle things now," John told us. "It's just a matter of time now before she'll be up and about again."
"Give her broth before solid food," I suggested in a subdued voice. "She has been quite ill."
"I'll remember," he assured me. "Thank thee for all thy help."
"I'm not sure I did all that much," I said hesitantly. "But you're welcome." I left then with Paul, stopping first to check on the sleeping Rachel. She still slept quietly, evidently on the way to a full recovery.
"Let's stop and tell Doc, can we?" I asked as we climbed into the sleigh.
"Yes, of course. He needs to be told." Paul agreed. He took me then to the dispensary beside which Doc Wilson lived. Doc, who was just having a cup of tea before bed, was surprised to see us at his door.
"How's Rachel? Do you need me?" He asked quickly.
"No, she's going to be fine," I told him simply. "She'll probably be up and about in a few days." Doc looked puzzled for a moment, then glanced at Paul as we entered the house. "Did you go over there tonight like I asked you?" He wanted to know.
"Yes." Paul answered. "We've just left the farm and are going home."
"What happened over there tonight?" Doc asked, offering us the teapot. We both shook our heads, declining more tea.
"We prayed and laid hands on Rachel for healing," Paul said as if it was an ordinary occurrence.
"And the fever broke," Doc said matter-of-factly.
"Yes, she was sleeping quite peacefully when we left her and there was no sign of fever," I reported.
"Then I'll stop by tomorrow and see how she is, but you go home and get some rest," Doc encouraged. "Barbara, thanks for your help." We left Doc then and started for the sleigh again. "Paul," I began slowly.
"Yes, what is it?" He stopped beside me. "Is thee all right?"
"Yes, but. . . ."
"Thee would like to go to the Meetinghouse?" He asked.
"I know it's late but, well, yes, I would."
"Then we'll go," he agreed and drove the sleigh to the Meetinghouse. He stopped there and tied the horses. "Would thee like to go in alone or would thee like some company?" He asked, helping me.
"You come with me, please," I asked. We entered the small building together. I seated myself on a wooden bench and looked up at him. "Would it be all right for you to sit with me just this one time?" I asked, knowing that the men and women worshiped on opposite sides of the aisle.
"Yes, since it's just the Lord and us, I think it'd be all right," he agreed, seating himself beside me. "Is there anything else I can do?"
"No, not now," I said in a whisper. We fell silent then, both centering on our own thoughts. A half hour passed in this way. Paul was about to break Meeting by reaching for m
y hand when he saw that I was weeping. He sat still beside me, wondering where the tears had come from and what they meant. After about five minutes had passed, I turned to him and spoke. "What do I have to do, Paul?"
"What does thee have to do?"
"Yes, to be like you and the others, what do I have to do?"
"It's not me or anyone else here in Fair Hill, Barbara, it's God, and it's Jesus Christ working in us and through us."
"But you must have done something."
"We only did one thing," he told me, taking my small hands in his.
"Tell me. How can I do it?"
"All thee needs to do is accept Jesus Christ as thy Savior, Lord and Teacher. Then, when thee has done this, He will baptize thee with his Holy Spirit."
"But I don't deserve that kind of care and love. I've denied his very existence," I said through sobs.
"Peter did too and Jesus still accepted him. Besides, none of us deserves it. It's grace, Barbara, pure, simple, wonderful grace!"
"What must I do?"
"Ask Jesus into thy heart. Give Him thy life and let Him do the rest."
"How do I do that?" I asked, my small hands still resting in his.
"Just pray. Ask Him to come into thy life. Then, it's good to make a public confession. Thee could tell the Meeting when thee is ready to do so."
"And that's all I need to do?"
"It's not as easy as it sounds. It means living a life according to His teachings and doing thy best to love others the way He loves thee."
"How can we, as imperfect people do that?" I asked, raising tear filled eyes to his. "We can't do it perfectly as He can, but we must always try."
"And that includes peace, simplicity and equality and all the other things Friends believe?" I went on.
"Yes," Paul agreed. "And is thee willing to accept plain dress and plain speech as an outward testimony of thy inward transformation? Being a Friend is a way of life, not simply a religion. The most important thing is accepting Jesus Christ as thy Savior and Teacher. Without Him, all the other beliefs are nothing."
"Will you pray with me then?" I asked after a pause.
"Let's just sit here for a few moments and center down, then leave the rest to the Spirit." We fell silent, waiting to see what would happen. After ten minutes had passed, I found myself praying aloud. "God, please forgive me for denying that you are here. After what I have seen and felt tonight it is impossible to believe you don't exist. I know you are here with us this very minute. I know you love us. I ask that you come into my heart and take my life. I'm not very good at this, God, but I know you understand. Thank you for bringing me to Fair Hill even if it did have to happen as it has. Help me to accept you and your love and grace. Help me to be a good member of my new family and of my new Meeting." Silence fell again. I was again caught up in that power and peace I had felt the first day in the Meetinghouse. I no longer felt weary. I was bursting with a new and miraculous life. Was this what it was like to be filled with the Holy Spirit? I wondered as I wiped tears from my face. Paul handed me his handkerchief and smiled when I looked up at him. I knew that he understood fully how I felt and why. It was good to have someone near to whom I needn't explain this experience. He squeezed my hand when I tried to speak but could not.
"Save thy words for Him," he told me gently. "I understand." Silence fell again and we allowed ourselves ten more minutes before Paul broke Meeting. "Is thee ready to go home and get some rest? Or would thee like to stay longer?"
"I'm ready," I said rising with him. "Thanks for understanding and helping tonight. You could have been pretty judgmental after some things I've said."
"I could have been, but then, thee could have rightfully accused me of not practicing what I preach, couldn't thee?" He said with a little smile.
"I could and probably would have too," I agreed, laughing a little. "Let's go tell your family."
When we reached home, Amy was up waiting for us. "I didn't expect thee home tonight, Barbara, how is Rachel?"
"She's very well considering," I said taking off my cloak.
"I thought she was near death from what Doc said," Amy looked confused.
"She was, until the Lord stepped in," I explained.
"She was healed?" Amy asked, looking from one of us to the other and back. "And what else happened tonight? Barbara thee looks different somehow."
"I gave my life to Jesus Christ," I announced, a radiant smile lighting my face.
"And she's going to consider the possibility of becoming a Friend," Paul added. "Am I not right?"
"Yes, you are," I agreed. "I'm going to look into it this next week."
Amy hugged me warmly. "I'm very happy for thee, Barbara, It's good to hear thee has come to the Light. I knew thee would."
"I knew it too if given time," Paul said gladly. "And thee had plenty of time."
"Yes, and your help."
"All I did was answer thy questions. Jesus did the rest."
My decision to accept Jesus Christ had an immediate and profound effect upon my life. I woke early the next morning. I felt more in touch with my surroundings than I had since my parents' death. No one else had come down yet when I entered the kitchen. I filled the kettle and put it over the fire for tea, glad that for once, I could start breakfast for Amy. I was humming a song to myself when I heard footsteps entering the kitchen. Turning from the stove, I saw Paul in the doorway watching me.
"Thee looks rather busy and, if I may say so, rather happy just now," he commented. He was preparing to go to the barn and begin the chores.
"I truly am, Paul, it's different now," I told him. "I hope I'll be accepted into the Meeting."
"I don't see why thee wouldn't," he said smiling briefly. "Is thee going to fix breakfast today?"
"I'll work on it. Your mother will be down," I answered. He went to the barn then, to begin the daily work. Breakfast was almost ready when Amy came down, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
"I didn't sleep well last night and slept too late this morning," she said apologetically. "It's all right," I assured her. "I don't mind doing this. It's almost ready."
"I see it is. At least I wouldn't have to worry if some morning I couldn't do it," Amy said, still sleepily. Andrew and the two younger children also came down. Paul told them the morning chores were all finished.
"I guess we were all up too late last night, but we were waiting to see how Rachel was. I didn't expect thee to be home today, Barbara. She must be doing much better, thanks to thy nursing," Andrew said as we all took our places around the table for breakfast.
"It seems that a miracle happened last night, Andrew. Rachel is probably having breakfast with John right this minute," Amy told him.
I told the family the entire story then, not only of Rachel's recovery but of my experience in the Meetinghouse.
"I'm very glad to hear this, Barbara," Andrew said squeezing my hand affectionately. "What does thee think thy uncle will say when he hears?"
"I don't think he'll feel any differently than you do. It's my aunt I'm worried about." Paul put down his fork and turned to look at me. "Why is thee worried about thy aunt? She hasn't cared anything about thee up till now."
"No, but my uncle told me that she wasn't very happy about me living in Fair Hill and would be even less happy if I became a Quaker."
"Thee doesn't think she would take thee back to Newport, does thee?" I noticed alarm in his voice.
"I don't know what she'll do." I admitted. "But I don't want to leave Fair Hill." "Perhaps thee could just not tell her until she asks or thy uncle asks," Andrew suggested. "But I suppose thee wants to tell thy uncle, hmm?"
"I'd like to, yes, but it can wait until after I'm a member of the Meeting. How long will that take?"
"Thee could ask for membership this First Day if thee feels led and then it would go from there. Thee probably would be spoken to by a couple of the elders. It would be brought before Ministry and Oversight and then to the entire meeting." Andrew explained. "It could ta
ke a couple of weeks."
"You don't think there'll be any problem then?"
"Not if the Ministry and Oversight committee approves it, and they probably will." The following First Day, I rose for the first time in Meeting and spoke out of the stillness. I told them of my acceptance of Jesus Christ and of my desire to be a part of the Religious Society of Friends. I asked that I be considered for membership into the Fair Hill Meeting of Friends. When we were leaving the Meetinghouse that day, an elderly woman touched my hand and spoke to me in firm but gentle tones. "My name is Molly O'Connor," she said. "I would like to have an opportunity with thee as soon as possible." I knew that this meant the woman wished to talk to me about a serious or weighty matter. "Would now be all right?" I asked, hoping Molly would not think me too forward.
"If someone doesn't mind waiting for thee to see thee home," Molly agreed with a warm smile.
"I'll wait for thee outside, Barbara," Paul offered. He was standing nearby and had heard Molly's request.
"Thank thee, Paul, we won't be long," Molly said. "And we'll talk in the library so thee can wait inside out of the cold." He seated himself again as the Meetinghouse emptied. Molly and I went into the library. We seated ourselves in comfortable chairs. Molly fixed a captivating gaze upon me. "How has thee come to the conclusion that thee wishes to be a Friend?" Molly asked directly.
"I have studied and thought about the beliefs of the Society of Friends for a few months while I've been here in Fair Hill. After my parents' deaths I was not too sure whether there was a God. Then I started reading the writings of George Fox and other early Friends. I also attend Meeting here and family Meeting every evening at the Becker farm. I asked Paul a few questions and he answered them. I looked up the passages in the Bible and found them to be true. Then, when I accepted Christ on Christmas night, I concluded that The Friends' beliefs are truly the teachings of Jesus."
"Thee is willing then to live thy new beliefs?" Thee is willing to wear plain clothes, use plain speech and live a life of simplicity, equality and peace?"
"I am willing as God gives me the grace to do so," I answered simply, hoping that it didn't sound overly pious.
The Secret of Fair Hill: A Refuge in Fair Hill Book 2 Page 10