Margaret, Joanna, and Allison sat around the large oblong table in Stonewycke’s kitchen.
This was Joanna’s favorite spot in the entire castle, for its homey warmth reminded her of the little kitchen in the cottage she and Alec had shared in the early years of their marriage. It also stirred the memories of her first days in Port Strathy with dear Nathaniel and Letty. They were gone now, but their memory was all the more special because in their home Joanna had given her life to the Lord. She recalled the quiet joy of that day as clearly as if it had only just occurred. She did not think there could possibly be another day so profoundly meaningful, though her wedding day and the birth of her children came close. Yet the moment of her own rebirth went beyond even these milestone events, perhaps because it enriched them and added still more to their meaning.
Yet Joanna now realized there could come another moment as significant to her as that memory of so long ago at the Cuttahay’s—the day, after so many years of inner conflict and struggle, when her own daughter came to the point of repentance and new birth. Only parents can know the depth to which their own children can bring heartache or joy by their responses to life, by their growth, by their sorrows, by their victories. Suddenly mother and daughter became what they had never before been able to be—sisters, born of the same Father.
Joanna reached across the table and took her daughter’s hand. She smiled.
“Allison,” she said, “I just don’t know what to say. I’m sorry for whatever grief I ever caused you.”
“Mother, I know I don’t need to ask your forgiveness,” said Allison, tears welling up in her eyes. “I know now how much you have loved me. But Daddy said that though I wouldn’t have to, I should anyway.”
“Forgiveness is a healing balm,” said her great-grandmother, “a duty that proves to be as much for our own good as it is for another’s.”
“That’s just what Daddy said,” replied Allison. “Mother, will you forgive me? I know I’ve caused you nothing but sadness these last several years.”
“Oh, Allison . . .” said Joanna tenderly, weeping in the fullness of her motherhood. She rose and went to her daughter. Allison rose also, and Joanna embraced her gently. “Of course I forgive you, dear,” she said softly, still crying tears of joy and healing. “And believe me, any grief you may have caused me is far outweighed by my love for you. I’m so sorry for anything I may ever have done to hurt you.”
They clung to one another for some time, as if to make up for the past breach and in anticipation of their future together.
When the tender moment had played itself out, Joanna resumed her seat and Allison struggled to bring up the subject that had been nagging at her but which she knew she had to bring into the open.
“I want so much to change,” she said. “I always wanted to be like both of you. But I felt that I failed. And Grandpa Dorey helped me understand that God could use that failure to help me depend on Him. What I guess I’m trying to say, again, to both of you is that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for blaming you for my own inadequacies. And I don’t know how much better I can do, but with God’s help I’m going to try.”
“Dear,” said Margaret, “God does want us to change—to become molded into the image and character of Christ. But what makes you think you must someday become like your mother or me?”
“You are the kind of women God wants. You are the kind of women Stonewycke has always had—generous, kind, loving.”
“Oh, dear, your mother and I are nothing of the sort! Whatever good you may see in us is not us at all. It is His work in us!”
Allison shook her head. “I suppose I’ve used all the rest of you as an excuse not to take responsibility for myself and my own attitudes. I could get away with being a beast while blaming it on you. That’s why I have to both ask your forgiveness and forgive you, too.”
“And forgive yourself,” added Margaret. “When I was in America I was able to forgive my father. But the time came in my life when I had to accept the Lord’s forgiveness for myself, too. The healing that God is always trying to carry out in families, even through the generations, is a forgiveness that extends in many directions—out toward others, inward from others, and outwardly to God as well as inwardly from Him. Only by forgiving and receiving forgiveness in all these ways will true wholeness come to us. We cannot leave any stone unturned, any relationship unhealed, any person unforgiven, if we want God to have His full way with us. And it is through forgiveness and healing that God is able to extend His plan and purpose for a family down through future generations of time. I do not doubt for a moment that my forgiving of my own father is one of the reasons the three of us are sitting here today. God himself only knows what the impact will be, Allison, of the forgiveness now blossoming in your heart.
“But healing is never without profound consequences. I do not doubt that as the history of Stonewycke continues down through the years, Allison, you will play a vital role in it, and that this moment when three generations of Duncan women can join in oneness with the Lord will prove a pivotal crossroads time. Perhaps that is why the Lord has spared me so long, so that I could share this moment with you. Allison, in the name of our Father, I tell you that I love you, and I give you my blessing as you carry on the Duncan line. I do not know how much longer I shall be among you—”
Joanna reached across the table and took her grandmother’s hand. There were tears of admiration and love in her eyes.
“—but however long it is, I will be praying fervently for the continued godly faith of this family, and for you, Allison, as you carry that legacy into the future. I bless you, my child. May the Lord truly be with you!”
All three were silent. As Lady Margaret had been speaking, an aura had seemed to come over her, her entire lifetime focused into that single moment when she passed to her granddaughter and great-granddaughter that life which had sustained her so long. She had been the Lady of Stonewycke, but seemed to sense that now the moment had come to transfer that heritage into their hands.
Joanna first broke the silence, though her eyes remained wet for some time to come. “So you see, dear, you don’t have to be like anyone to please God. You are a unique creation. Whatever gifts and whatever personality you have, He gave you for His purposes. He will not expect you to be like either of us. Stonewycke will face challenges in your lifetime that we have not known. Times change; we live in a modern world. He wants you to be you. Of course He wants us to change where we have been self-centered. He wants to bring healing. But He will not change the special nature He gave you. He only wants it channeled for His purpose.”
“You make it sound easy, Mother.”
“Be assured,” laughed Margaret, “it is not easy—far from it! Especially when you resist, as I did for many years. But in the laying down of self is true healing born. And in that laying down is the only path along which you will find true joy and peace.”
The conversation was abruptly interrupted with a sound from the scullery door. Allison looked up at the instant when Logan Macintyre had just stepped across the threshold.
Joanna, on the opposite side of the table and facing her daughter, did not immediately see who had just walked in. But she noted a strange interplay of emotions cross Allison’s face—initial surprise, as if his arrival was very unexpected though welcome, then a flicker of concern followed by a smile. The smile was unlike any Joanna had ever seen from Allison—shy, a bit awkward, even uncertain.
All these images flashed by in no more than an instant. But in that time, the discerning mother saw, before even the daughter realized it, that Allison was in love.