Left, right, left, right. This was my last walk to my lycée (high school) in France. I'd been making this walk for the past five months. My feet rearranged the pebbles in a familiar rhythm. Raindrops joined the freckles on my cheeks.

Soon, I arrived at the public gardens, a point along the way. I took in the expanse, reliving fond memories about this park. I stopped on the bridge, looking over into the antique courtyard. The small stone fountain still spouted a trickling string of water in the rain. It was there on that bridge that I yelled out loud at God, in confusion and frustration.

My time in France hadn't started off this way. A love of travel and a French immersion program, where I'd be speaking French all day every day, had led me overseas. Initially, living abroad was exciting. My host family was respectful of my faith and my reliance on Christian Science to meet my needs. And my love of dance had kept me involved in many different local productions.

But now, standing on that bridge in the park, I felt so angry. Angry that I needed to leave the school I'd been attending that semester a month early. The next day my mom and uncle would arrive from the US to bring me home. The adults surrounding me had seen how I'd been controlling what I ate, which had become less and less. While I'd never considered myself a vain person, I was a dancer, and I'd unknowingly allowed negative aspects of the dance world to change the way I viewed myself. I felt powerful controlling my weight and seeing my body get thinner. My weight loss over those past few months had been dramatic, but I was in denial. I was confused about living and eating normally. What I thought was "slim and healthy" really pointed to a dangerous lifestyle. I felt empty, always searching for that elusive "enough." It was if I'd swum out too far in the ocean and couldn't tread water much longer.

It was when my home-stay family saw me in my dance outfit at a local production that they discovered something was wrong. (Normally, I covered up in lots of layers, since northern France is often cold.) They took me to a doctor. She gave me a grim prognosis and told me essentially that my life was in danger; in fact, she said my life could end in a few days. As a minor, because of the rules of my study abroad program, I was required to return home if I didn't seek immediate medical treatment. I didn't need to think twice, and decided to choose Christian Science instead of seeking out medical solutions. And my family supported this decision, since we'd all seen the efficacy of Christian Science treatment in the past.

When my mom met me in the train station in France to bring me back home, she embraced me. Although she told me it was difficult to recognize me, I knew I had her love and support despite feeling like a "prodigal daughter," guilty that I'd been hiding my eating issues from everyone.

Upon arriving back home, I missed my French life, the friends I didn't get to say goodbye to, and my gracious host family. I still felt a strong resistance to eating, but I knew it was natural and right to regain weight. So despite my fears, I started to talk to and receive prayer from a Christian Science practitioner on a regular basis. And this helped.

During this time, when I spent many days resting, and exploring more about my spiritual identity and praying, I had some amazing inspirations. I realized that this situation had everything to do with discovering what was really true about me, rather than ruminating or condemning myself for my mistakes. This line from Science and Health became my spiritual credo for that summer: "Know thyself, and God will supply the wisdom and the occasion for a victory over evil" (p. 571). I prayed for a clearer understanding of identity and of my substance as spiritual instead of in fleshly form.

I'd always accepted Christian Science with a sort of intellectual nod— I figured it was somehow a part of my family religious history, passed down from one generation to the next. But now, I was really having to apply it in my own life, and I realized for the first time it would take some effort to overcome some of the false notions heaped on me about what defined who I was.

Waking up and getting a new chance to grow spiritually each day was a triumph, yet discouragement was tempting. Eating was not the only problem; I also had trouble digesting food normally. Even though I was trying to take the right steps by eating greater quantities more often, I was almost scared by the food and extremely unsettled. And the temptation to immediately burn off calories after eating, by exercising, was strong. I soon saw how willfulness on my part would never aid the healing I was seeking through prayer.

On more than one occasion, dark thoughts of giving up on life came to me. But I felt the comfort that came from my own prayers and the constant prayers from the practitioner and my family. I started each day with this Bible verse: "I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord" (Ps. 118:17). I learned to measure the success of each day based on how often I listened to divine Mind.

And steadily, things began to improve. I was able to eat without feeling the need to obsess. My mom and the practitioner were there to cheer on my progress every step of the way. But it was the shame about my situation that hurt the most. I had to overcome guilt and embarrassment because girls in the grocery store would whisper behind their backs to their moms about why I looked the way I did. During these times, I examined my thoughts and tried to view whoever made the comment with love, rejoicing in their beauty as an idea of God—like me.

One of the things I also prayed with was a verse from the Bible, "Unto the pure all things are pure" (Titus 1:15). This helped assure me that I was a clear-thinking, pure daughter of God, innocent from the temptation to believe in a power outside of good. I knew that "all things" in my experience had to include purity, and that pure thoughts and motives lead to a beautiful, balanced life, reflected in normal eating habits and how I saw myself. I was completely cared for by God, lacking nothing.

Steadily, over the summer, I regained the weight I'd lost and was able to eat and digest food normally again. I gratefully returned to high school for my junior year and enjoyed complete athletic freedom, and joyously returned to dance as well. To me, this healing was the result of a beautiful shift in thought. My heart is so grateful to so many—family, friends, and others who promoted my progress. I have come a long way since the morning on the park bridge when I yelled at God!

Best of all, I had the humbling opportunity to return to France the summer after I'd left, hugging my host family just as I had the first time my sophomore year. They were so grateful I was completely well. Now they have a copy of Science and Health in French. My host mom says that she now turns to it regularly for inspiration.

Through this experience, I learned that our identity extends far beyond what we see with our eyes. It really is possible to "know ourselves" as God does. This healing turned out to be the biggest revelation of my life so far. I was even inspired to take Christian Science Primary class instruction soon afterward. I know that God is my Life, and that my existence involves pure love. And that is enough for me.

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