As the school term drew to a close, I had one last opportunity to meet my daughter's teacher at a parent-teacher conference. Though I greatly respected her knowledge, qualifications, and rich cultural background, I didn't know her well. My impression from the few exchanges we'd had wasn't one of warmth or particular connectedness to the students.

On the way to the conference, I listened to a cassette tape of some children talking about how they turn to God for healing. Their simple accounts were touching and powerful. By the time I reached the school, I was filled with gratitude for God's goodness and for the way He takes care of all His children.

My meeting with the teacher began with a review of the skills the class had covered during the term. Then, to my surprise, she launched into a lengthy monologue about a recently published study. It explained the brain as a collection of compartments, each responsible for different kinds of learning and each activated by certain environmental stimuli. The study said that effective learning won't occur until these compartments are stimulated.

I felt quite disturbed by this limited view of intelligence and the ability to learn. It was contrary to my view of myself and my children as the children of God, made in His likeness. My own family's spiritual healings had proven the truth of what Mary Baker Eddy says: "Man is not matter; he is not made up of brain, blood, bones, and other material elements" (Science and Health, p. 475).

Because of my conviction, I momentarily considered whether my daughter should even be in this school program.

But then spontaneously, right on the heels of this thought, came another thought, the clear spiritual antidote: God's children develop and learn under His direction. God brings them forth, and they blossom under His care. Learning, growing, and developing skills are independent of the brain. My daughter's intelligence comes from divine Mind. At that moment, this truth was so clear to me that I was completely at peace and felt no need to comment.

Then the most interesting thing happened. The topic of conversation shifted. One minute she was discussing the brain, and the next minute she said, "I believe in God." I told her that I also believed in God, that my daughter was learning about Him as part of her spiritual education, and that she very much wanted to know God better.

All of a sudden, we were in a deep conversation about God and how "the kingdom of God is within" each one of us (see Luke 17:21). We discussed the relation of God to His children, a relation so close that it equals oneness in quality. And we also talked about what it means to live a life that expresses this unity with God. A life that echoes Jesus' statement "I can of mine own self do nothing" (John 5:30).

She told me about her own and her family's religious background, which was quite different from mine. Yet, on fundamental spiritual points we found ourselves in absolute agreement. Unity and love filled the room. All too soon, the door opened and her next appointment walked in. As we stood up, she gave me the most warm and beautiful smile, and looked as if she were about to put her arms around me.

As I drove home, I felt such gratitude for this clear illustration of the power of unspoken prayer. In thinking about the unexpected turn in our conference and how much ground we'd covered in just a 20-minute period, I was awe-struck. I realized that a divine influence had been relating us to one another. I couldn't help feeling that this was a taste of what the people in the Bible felt at the time of Pentecost, when the Holy Ghost came in like "a rushing mighty wind" and filled all those present, and everyone heard the message of salvation "in his own language." (See Acts 2:2–6) In the presence of the Spirit of God, or the "Holy Ghost" (as it is termed in the New Testament), there is complete unity and understanding. And as this teacher and I came together in our view of God, the Father and Mother of us all, we were drawn closer to each other.

This meeting happened on the Friday before the April school break. At the beginning of the following week, I decided to send this teacher the book Science and Health and the tape I had been listening to the morning of the conference. I wrote a note thanking her for our meeting, saying that since she was a fellow seeker of Truth, she would enjoy reading this book.

On the Tuesday following spring break, she walked my daughter out to the car and said to me, "You know, I'm going to read that book. I really need help in my life right now." Then she reached into the car and squeezed my hand.