Today in Salem: Sometimes a minister’s job is to preach and pray, and sometimes it’s simply to listen. But right now there’s no choice to be made. The girl in front of Rev George Burroughs is sobbing so hard that all he can do is listen.
Her words are punctuated by her sobs, and hard to make out. Lying. Dust. (Lie in the dust?) False. He. Used. Burroughs puts his hands on his knees, takes a deep breath, and waits. Grandfather Jacobs. Willard. You.
Ah. He rubs his knees and closes his eyes. He and the others are innocent, so of course they’ve been falsely accused. She’d even spoken against her own grandfather, George Jacobs Sr. But why is she here? And why now, the night before he and the others are to be hanged?
Please. For. Give. At last she looks up. Pray?
Burroughs hesitates. The stone in his heart is large. But there’s nothing to be gained by being harsh. Prayer has always been the way he begs forgiveness, the way he navigates through heartache, and loss. And so he prays, for both of them. For strength. For understanding. For light in the darkness.
Tomorrow in Salem: ***Sensitive Content: Death by Hanging***