As a third-generation Christian Scientist, I am grateful for the consolation and growing assurance of good my religion has afforded me.

One healing I am especially grateful for is that of reserve. For some years it was difficult for me to express the warmth and liking I really felt for people, except for family and close friends. I prayed and worked at this problem off and on but not really in a concentrated way until I was shocked by the statement of a friend that I often impressed others as cold and unloving. She reminded me that love is as natural as sunlight because it is the expression of God, who fills all space. Mrs. Eddy says in Science and Health (p. 248): "Love never loses sight of loveliness. Its halo rests upon its object. One marvels that a friend can ever seem less than beautiful." By holding this and other truths in mind, and by putting them into practice, it has become increasingly natural to show the friendliness I feel toward others.

The rewards have been correspondingly great. It has been easier for me to grasp the essential unity of all men as the children of God and to see that everyone, everywhere, is equally God's idea, equally rich in His love, everywhere worthy. This recognition is more than ever a blessing in these times when mankind need so much to put into practice, on a human level, the truth that God's love encompasses all. Mrs. Eddy's statement "The divinity of the Christ was made manifest in the humanity of Jesus" (ibid., p. 25) has been a bulwark.

Probably the greatest growth in an understanding of God came when I had to learn to acknowledge the presence of God as Life. Two members of my family passed on within ten days. For the first time I questioned the truths I had been taught all my life as a student of Christian Science. Two thoughts came to help me regain my faith. The first was the recognition that my faith had never wavered when other people had had to meet the problem I was facing. I had not questioned Christian Science then. The second was that my attitude was essentially selfish because I was, in effect, saying, "If my husband and my sister could walk through the door this minute, all would be well, and I would believe in God." I saw that the healing of my problem was no different than the healing of the same problem everywhere, that I had to look higher than my own personal feelings, because a lie involving all mankind—not just me—was being presented. This healing was essentially one of the selfishness of grief.

When my son was nine, he fell against a wall heater just after a bath and burned himself. It was a Wednesday, and at first he thought he would not be able to put his clothes on over the large burn and go to church. Then he thought that even if I took him to the Wednesday testimony meeting, he would not be able to sit through the hour. I reminded him that this was an opportunity to prove that since accidents are unknown to God, they cannot be known to man. He did go to church with me, and stayed through the hour in comfort. While the marks of the burn lingered for a few weeks, he experienced no further discomfort, and when they faded, they left no trace at all.

A friend, my son, and I were protected on a highway during a sudden rain. My car skidded and went completely out of control, spinning around through two lanes of oncoming traffic. I was so started that I could not think of anything. The friend, who is also a student of Christian Science, said quietly, "One hand on the wheel." This immediately brought to my thought the reassurance that God indeed governs all, and was governing at that very moment. When the car stopped, it had parked itself neatly on the narrow shoulder of the highway, facing oncoming traffic, as if it had been directed there. Within a short time a driver of another car stopped and reversed the car for me so that I could enter traffic again.

For all these evidences of God's care and love, I am most grateful.

(Mrs.) Pam S. Webster St. Louis, Missouri