and bad.”
Silence fell over the table again while the words hung in the air.
“That’s beautiful,” Alice breathed. “The Bregdan Principle… It should be hanging on your wall somewhere.”
Faith chuckled and then stood up to pull down a framed scroll from the wall. “It just so happens that it is.”
Carrie reached for the frame and read the words again slowly. “Everything we do matters,” she murmured, looking up to see Biddy watching her closely. “Oliver Cromwell’s decisions are part of my history. They are…part…of what makes me…who I am. ” The halting words that seemed to be pulled from her heart filled her with an illuminating certainty.
Biddy nodded. “Just as his decisions are a part of what makes me who I am.”
Carrie sensed a great truth rising inside her. Right on its heels was a sense of shame. Biddy’s probing eyes demanded she reveal what she was thinking. She suddenly felt as if only the two of them were in the room together. Everyone else, including all the noises from the outside world, seemed to melt away. “I can’t believe this is my heritage,” she murmured. The last six years seemed to roll before her eyes, scene after scene flashing in front of her. “I’ve tried so hard to fight prejudice. I thought I was doing good things...” Her voice faltered. “To discover the truth about Oliver Cromwell mocks everything I have done.” Her voice cracked as she acknowledged what was really bothering her. “I feel so responsible...”
Biddy nodded. “I felt the same way for a long time. I felt I was responsible for making right all the things that happened in my family.”
“But everything was done to your family,” Carrie objected. “Not by your family.” Her head reeled with images of the devastation Biddy had described.
Biddy chuckled. “I’m quite sure there were ancestors who weren’t just victims,” she said. “But that’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point?” Carrie asked desperately.
Biddy’s eyes softened. “While it’s true that we carry some part of every generation inside us, it does not have to become a burdensome responsibility. I see it more as a privilege.”
Carrie listened quietly, but she couldn’t stop the reel of horrible images in her mind. “A privilege? I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t,” Biddy responded. “You’re still trying to deal with what you have just learned.”
Carrie nodded. She no longer tried to understand how Biddy knew what she was thinking. The old lady just did.
“You can either consider this information a burdensome responsibility, or you can see it as a unique privilege to right some of the wrongs of what your”—Biddy hesitated, and then continued with a smile—“your ancestor did. I’m sorry, but I can’t remember how many greats were in there.”
Carrie managed to smile in return, but her insides were still clenched. Biddy reached forward to pat her cheek but remained silent, giving Carrie time to process what she was hearing. Carrie was amazed how soft her hands were.
After a long silence, Biddy continued. “Didn’t you tell me you helped Rose and Moses escape?”
“Yes,” Carrie whispered.
“What about the other slaves?”
“I gave them all their freedom,” she admitted.
“Your father agreed with that?”
Carrie smiled at the memory. “No. Definitely not. He changed with time,” she said fondly.
“No,” Biddy said. “He changed because of you. Do you think he would have suddenly set all his slaves free before the defeat of the South made all of them automatically free?”
“No,” Carrie said slowly. She was able to acknowledge it was her forcing the issue that had made her father change his beliefs and actions. “I don’t think he would have.”
“So you had the privilege of redeeming the past,” Biddy said. “Are you fighting for equal rights for blacks and women now?” She waited for Carrie’s nod and then continued. “You
Silence fell over the table again while the words hung in the air.
“That’s beautiful,” Alice breathed. “The Bregdan Principle… It should be hanging on your wall somewhere.”
Faith chuckled and then stood up to pull down a framed scroll from the wall. “It just so happens that it is.”
Carrie reached for the frame and read the words again slowly. “Everything we do matters,” she murmured, looking up to see Biddy watching her closely. “Oliver Cromwell’s decisions are part of my history. They are…part…of what makes me…who I am. ” The halting words that seemed to be pulled from her heart filled her with an illuminating certainty.
Biddy nodded. “Just as his decisions are a part of what makes me who I am.”
Carrie sensed a great truth rising inside her. Right on its heels was a sense of shame. Biddy’s probing eyes demanded she reveal what she was thinking. She suddenly felt as if only the two of them were in the room together. Everyone else, including all the noises from the outside world, seemed to melt away. “I can’t believe this is my heritage,” she murmured. The last six years seemed to roll before her eyes, scene after scene flashing in front of her. “I’ve tried so hard to fight prejudice. I thought I was doing good things...” Her voice faltered. “To discover the truth about Oliver Cromwell mocks everything I have done.” Her voice cracked as she acknowledged what was really bothering her. “I feel so responsible...”
Biddy nodded. “I felt the same way for a long time. I felt I was responsible for making right all the things that happened in my family.”
“But everything was done to your family,” Carrie objected. “Not by your family.” Her head reeled with images of the devastation Biddy had described.
Biddy chuckled. “I’m quite sure there were ancestors who weren’t just victims,” she said. “But that’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point?” Carrie asked desperately.
Biddy’s eyes softened. “While it’s true that we carry some part of every generation inside us, it does not have to become a burdensome responsibility. I see it more as a privilege.”
Carrie listened quietly, but she couldn’t stop the reel of horrible images in her mind. “A privilege? I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t,” Biddy responded. “You’re still trying to deal with what you have just learned.”
Carrie nodded. She no longer tried to understand how Biddy knew what she was thinking. The old lady just did.
“You can either consider this information a burdensome responsibility, or you can see it as a unique privilege to right some of the wrongs of what your”—Biddy hesitated, and then continued with a smile—“your ancestor did. I’m sorry, but I can’t remember how many greats were in there.”
Carrie managed to smile in return, but her insides were still clenched. Biddy reached forward to pat her cheek but remained silent, giving Carrie time to process what she was hearing. Carrie was amazed how soft her hands were.
After a long silence, Biddy continued. “Didn’t you tell me you helped Rose and Moses escape?”
“Yes,” Carrie whispered.
“What about the other slaves?”
“I gave them all their freedom,” she admitted.
“Your father agreed with that?”
Carrie smiled at the memory. “No. Definitely not. He changed with time,” she said fondly.
“No,” Biddy said. “He changed because of you. Do you think he would have suddenly set all his slaves free before the defeat of the South made all of them automatically free?”
“No,” Carrie said slowly. She was able to acknowledge it was her forcing the issue that had made her father change his beliefs and actions. “I don’t think he would have.”
“So you had the privilege of redeeming the past,” Biddy said. “Are you fighting for equal rights for blacks and women now?” She waited for Carrie’s nod and then continued. “You
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