The background
This is the first Part of a two part story which tells how Henry, now 32 years old visits his father, to see him for the first time in over 15 years. The immediate background to Henry’s story was posted on the blog earlier in the year. That story was published in two parts and is called “The Well-watered Garden” and is still there to read. Reading it will help make the story clear.
In this first part we read the story of Henry’s journey to Falmouth. The story is told by Henry.
“Come and Stay”- Part 1
A few days before this trip, my experience in Steve and Kate’s garden had convinced me I needed to speak to my Dad face to face. This story of my trip really begins to get interesting as I join the Paddington train to Cornwall. Earlier on that Tuesday morning I had flown into Heathrow on a flight from Glasgow. Now I was safely seated on the train and heading west. I was enjoying the scenery out of the window when I was distracted by my phone buzzing. It was not good news! It was a text from the people whose apartment I had booked – the flat was no longer available! Apparently the last guests had gone but left it uninhabitable! I was basically homeless. I went online, looking for alternative accommodation, but there was nowhere in Falmouth available. I knew my heavenly Father was by my side but that text made me wonder if what I was planning was right – what God wanted for me. Drawing a blank to find somewhere to stay really didn’t help!
At first I felt desperate, but eventually I calmed down and started remembering and rehearsing God’s promises – of which there were many! By the time I got to Truro I had become certain that somehow He would provide. So eventually I slept some more, and ate the large (and enormously peppery and expensive!) Cornish pasty I had bought on the station at Paddington. From the train, the landscape became more and more rural, then wild and rocky. There were seascapes and beaches to the left and moorlands to the right, so different to the sea and mountains of Loch Long I was getting to know and love, but just a different part of God’s beautiful creation. At last I was prepared to “rest in His arms”. Slowly I sunk into His presence and basked in His enduring lovingkindness. That’s the only way I can describe how I felt and then what happened.
At Truro I had to change trains for the final leg of the journey. So as we arrived there I grabbed my belongings. We stopped and I jumped off the train to head for the station cafe to buy some more food. Then I crossed the platform to the Falmouth train and clambered into the nearest carriage. For a moment I was preoccupied with sorting out my belongings – I was balancing my holdall with my daypack – and being careful not to drop the hot sausage roll, bag of crisps and Eccles Cake I had bought in the cafe. (The train wasn’t due to arrive in Falmouth until quite late in the evening and I was quite peckish.) Anyway, once safely settled in my seat, I looked around me. My only companion was a woman, about the same age as me. Interestingly, she was wearing a clerical collar. In my mind I called her the Lady Vicar.
She had already settled into her book, so I kept quiet – I thought maybe she was preparing for next Sunday’s sermon! After a few minutes there was an announcement, followed by door banging and then a whistle, all signaling that the final leg of my journey was about to start. I looked at my watch – we had pulled out of the station exactly on time. My hunger and the smell of the sausage got the better of me, so I decided to get the food out of my daypack. But in my unseemly haste the backpack tipped off the seat, depositing all its contents on the carriage floor.
The Lady Vicar immediately dropped her book and leapt up to help. Embarrassed, I managed to stuff my clothes untidily back into the bag, but she grabbed my Bible and my father’s plaque from the floor, looked at them with interest and then handed them back to me. She returned to her seat.
Regaining my composure, I unwrapped my still warm sausage roll and took a large bite. It was at that moment she chose to ask me if I had come far! I smiled wanly and tried to empty my mouth as quickly and cleanly as I could. Crumbs! I nodded to let her know I had heard her question but was temporarily unable to answer. Finally I managed to swallow and tell her I had travelled all the way from Glasgow. She nodded thoughtfully and I thought she had gone back to reading her book.
Then after a short silence she said: “Are you by any chance Richard Jones’ son?” For a moment I was stunned into silence. When I found my voice, I sort of spluttered: “You know my father? And how do you know I’m his son?”
With a gleam in her eyes she told me she was only talking to my dad yesterday! And that on Sunday he came come to their cafe church for the first time, and that yesterday he came to the group for older people that she ran on Monday afternoons. She said that afterwards the two of them got chatting and he had told her the story of his life! She said he was very hesitant, a bit glum. It was as if he wasn’t used to sharing like that, but even so he told her all about how the Sir Galahad bombing had affected him and then about his convalescence And finally he told her about his lonely life in Falmouth. When he had finished she said she asked if she could pray for him. He agreed. And then she said that as she prayed God gave her a picture.
Can you imagine all the thoughts going on in my head! She described her picture to me – it was a picture of him meeting up with his son after too many years had gone by. She said he listened carefully and that by the time she had finished his eyes were full of tears. And he spoke about me and how he needed my forgiveness. And then, finally, she said that God told her one more thing – that his son was going to visit him soon! She said that after she had shared all this with my dad, he had overcome his emotions and that he was still quite skeptical. Even so, he did agree to go away and reflect on the events of the last couple of days.
I’ll have to miss out most of the very interesting conversation Lucy and I had as we continued our journey to Falmouth. Just to say that by the end of it we had become firm friends, swapped addresses and telephone numbers. And the Reverend Lucy Taylor, for that was her name, had assured me that all I needed to do was knock on his door tomorrow morning and then wait and see what God would do!
So finally the train drew into Falmouth Town Station. We both gathered up our things and headed for the carriage door. As we waited for it to open Lucy shared that it wasn’t a word from God that told her about me, but picking up the Sir Galahad plaque and seeing my dad’s name on the back! She put two and two together and got the right answer! And then she said’ “Henry, why don’t you come and stay at the vicarage with us while you are here in Falmouth. We have plenty of room. You haven’t found anywhere to stay yet, have you?” I was dumbfounded. How could she know that! Yet it was the answer to my prayer and I managed said thank you. I nearly hugged her, but managed to restrain myself. I’ve never hugged a vicar before!. As we left the train I wondered if she really meant it but she seemed to read my mind and repeated her offer: “Please do come and stay! The vicarage is only a couple of minutes walk away. You will be very welcome!”
So we soon arrived at the rather impressive vicarage and I was introduced to Lucy’s husband, Freddie. He cheerfully announced that he was a househusband – Lucy was the one who got paid – and kept him in the manner to which “he was slowly becoming accustomed!”. So it was he who marched me upstairs and ushered me into a huge room that I quickly realized was more a bedsit than a spare room. He pointed out the kitchen area and a large fridge, next to a larder full of breakfast cereals and Danish Pastries. I was told to help myself to breakfast as soon as I was ready. Then he excused himself and left me to it.
Thankfully, I remembered to ring Claire and tell her the news. We chatted for a while but then, even though it was not even ten o’clock yet, I got ready for bed and turned out the light. As I lay there and reviewed the day, I could only reflect on how God had been with me, even when I doubted Him! And then I fell asleep.
In Part 2 Henry meets his father.
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All references are from the NKJV unless specified otherwise.
John Partis
bearing-kingdom-fruit.com
Text copyright © John Partis 2026
John Partis asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
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