Testimony of Healing October 20, 1917 Issue

I should like to express my gratitude for Christian Science...

Marguerite Barrett, Julia L. Coppock with contributions from C. A. Barrett

I should like to express my gratitude for Christian Science and for all the blessings it has brought to my home. In 1914 my little son, aged six years, had a severe attack of scarlet fever. He was attending a public school, and because of the law and of those around us, I called a doctor, who said the boy would have to go away to an isolated hospital. He said the child had an abscess at the back of his throat, and he made out a list of material remedies for me to use. I told him I should not use them; that God was our only healer. The doctor made no objection beyond saying I was running a great risk.

I then applied to a Christian Science practitioner, who treated the boy, with the result that he was healed instantaneously. The fever left him, the abscess disappeared, and when the doctor came the next morning my son was eating an egg. Of course he was taken away, because the case had been reported; but I had no fear, for I knew that God was with him. At the usual time he was sent home. When I noticed he had a discharge at the nose, a great feeling of resentment seemed to lay hold of me, and I kept wondering why this thing should be, as the child's suffering was terrible; at times he could not breathe, and the discharge was very offensive. I again asked for treatment, but the condition did not seem to yield and the child's cries were distressing to hear. I helped him to the best of my knowledge in Christian Science, but fear seemed to creep in. One day when the practitioner was talking to me of how to keep our thoughts pure and loving, I saw that the error was in my own consciousness. I had all the time been harboring resentment, discontent, and uncharitableness toward others. That evening I cleared my thought from all wrong, and the boy was healed in the same night.

A few months after this my youngest child, a girl of four years, was suddenly attacked with what seemed to be a mortal sickness. She was so ill that she could not turn, or even raise her hands. The same practitioner treated her, but I was greatly tempted to be afraid. I was on the eve of traveling to a town about forty miles away, but it seemed impossible to take the child. She was unconscious most of the time, but when sensible kept repeating to herself these words from Mrs. Eddy's hymn: "Shepherd, show me how to go." I did indeed want the good Shepherd to show me how to go, as my furniture was all packed for this journey to another home. At times I was tempted to be downcast, but I clung steadfastly to the truth.

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