A while back, as I was reading the weekly Christian Science Bible Lesson, I was struck by a passage from Proverbs, which reads, “The hearing ear, and the seeing eye, the Lord hath made even both of them” ( 20:12 ). I studied the Lesson every day that week, trying to understand the spiritual meaning of those words—that in reality we hear and see spiritually, not materially, because our identity did not originate in matter, but came from God, our ever-present, loving Father and Mother.
One day, in 2013, the soles of my feet started to feel itchy, and my body felt painful and tired. In the past, I had been healed physically through praying according to the teachings of Christian Science, and so I relied on metaphysical treatment in order to free myself from this discomfort.
I was fortunate to be able to attend a Christian Science camp in the Pocono Mountains for three years during my early teens. In addition to enjoying the friendships and the camp activities, one of my strongest memories is of the opportunity to work closely with passages from the weekly Christian Science Bible Lesson.
I like to pray for the world each day, starting with reviewing what’s in The Christian Science Monitor’ s Daily News Briefing . I have noticed that many of the articles seem to imply a call for more love, but just more human love seems to pale in the face of the enormous need.
My first encounter with the Christian Science textbook happened as if by accident, but I only realized later that it was divine Love that led me to Christian Science. In 2004 I went to my friend’s house to borrow books to read.
One peaceful morning more than a year ago, while feeding birds in the backyard, I suddenly heard unusually loud sounds in my ear, and I appeared to lose my balance. I immediately reversed the suggestion of an attack on my well-being.
On a recent business trip my colleagues and I had to change planes in Germany on our way from the United States to the Middle East. While disembarking, I tripped and fell down the plane’s mobile stairway.
I lost my tennis serve one day—seemingly out of nowhere. I’ve played tennis competitively for years, and all of a sudden I couldn’t serve well.
Years ago, my husband and I owned a small business and a large property. We’d built a home on this ranch land, and we both enjoyed the view in our isolated valley with its abundant wildlife of migrating birds, elk, and deer.
One spring day I was moving some valuable computer equipment out of the office where I worked. Carrying a large box down a flight of stairs, I misjudged the last step.