Uprooting the Weeds

The warm days of early spring, the bright sunshine, and the refreshing showers give impulse to growth of every nature. The leaves begin to unfold, the buds swell and burst into a wealth of blossoms, and a carpet of green replaces the somber hue of earth; but along with these glories of earth and sky springs growth of an opposite nature,—the devastating weed, rank and deep-rooted, which nothing but patience and perseverance can destroy.

An experience in trying to uproot these pests of the garden brought home to the writer through a homely simile a timely lesson and one for which she has cause to be most grateful; and out of this gratitude springs the desire to relate the experience, that it may be helpful to others. An ailment which seemed to cling most tenaciously, in spite of persistent endeavor on the part of both practitioner and patient, would yield for a time only and then return. One day, deeply discouraged by sense testimony, the sufferer impatiently asked the practitioner: "Why is it that this error is not destroyed once and for all, since Mrs. Eddy has said (Science and Health, p. 217), 'When you have once conquered a diseased condition of the body through Mind, that condition never recurs, and you have won a point in Science'" The reply was that the error or diseased belief had not been thoroughly rooted out and that some vestige of the belief was still buried in thought.

The Simplicity of Truth
April 12, 1919

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