Cracked ribs healed
Over the years I have had many healings, but some stand out because of the clarity of the thought that brought rapid results. One happened about 12 years ago, during a weekend trip my husband and I took with our teenage daughter to visit our married son and his family. The car was packed and ready, and we were waiting for our daughter to finish getting her things together. I decided to get on my bike and ride a little way up the road and back to fill the time.
The air in one tire was low, making it difficult to steer. I lost control and ended up on the ground. When I landed, I heard cracking sounds and felt pain in my rib cage, but picked myself up and did as I am accustomed to do—affirmed strongly that as a child of God, a spiritual idea dwelling in divine Mind rather than in matter, I could not be injured. I don’t remember my exact thoughts, but I’m sure they included the idea that there are no accidents in the realm of divine Mind.
As we drove, I said nothing to my daughter or to my husband, who is not a Christian Scientist. It was easier to hold my thought to what I knew to be true about man’s spiritual identity if I didn’t have to worry about their concern. Though I continued to feel pain, I was consistent in my mental affirmations. During the weekend, I participated in all the family activities, while continuously praying with the idea of man’s invulnerability and man’s soundness in Spirit. Twisting or bending was difficult, however, as was leaning against the back of a chair, so I avoided doing those things. Lying down was a struggle, too.
The third night I lay in bed thinking about what I would say to a friend we planned to visit on our way home. He always greeted us with bear hugs, and I wanted to give him some kind of warning to protect my ribs. But then I remembered this counsel from the chapter “Christian Science Practice” in Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures by Mary Baker Eddy: “When the body is supposed to say, ‘I am sick,’ never plead guilty. Since matter cannot talk, it must be mortal mind which speaks; therefore meet the intimation with a protest. If you say, ‘I am sick,’ you plead guilty” (p. 391 ). Suddenly it came to me clearly that if nothing had happened to me, as I had been declaring to myself so steadily, then I didn’t have to say anything. If there was nothing wrong with me, as I understood to be true, then he could hug me. Why, of course, I thought! With that realization, the pain left instantly and I was completely healed. Later, when this friend greeted me with his customary hug, I felt no pain but only awe at this wonderful proof of God’s power and love.
One autumn several years later, I had a similar healing. I’d gone outside to put together a wooden frame with my electric screwdriver. I was having difficulty driving the screws, and my neighbor, with his large, exuberant dog on a leash, came over to help. I handed my neighbor the screwdriver and he handed me the leash. The dog took off with such strength and speed that I crashed to the ground with my arm outstretched, landing on my ribs. Again I heard cracking, but this time I knew I didn’t need to accept the testimony of the senses.
I dusted myself off, and went about my business, but had a hard time forgetting the picture of what had happened. For several nights the scene replayed itself when I got in bed. I wasn’t in pain, but was oddly uncomfortable every time I tried to roll onto my back. To avoid discomfort, I tried sleeping on my side, but then, just as clearly as the thought had come years before, I realized, if there was nothing wrong with me, then I could sleep on my back.
As I did so, I briefly felt as if electricity were coursing through me, but I refused to accept this suggestion. Matter cannot talk. It has “no life, truth, intelligence, nor substance” (Science and Health, p. 468 ). After a few seconds of holding firm to this understanding, I felt myself relax, and the distressing sensation vanished. I slept comfortably in my normal position.
I needed to repeat this process on several succeeding nights, until I read an article in the Sentinel that told of the healing of a broken ankle (see Glory Holzworth, “Never separate from God,” October 5, 2009). After waking from a dream of being injured, the author realized that her waking experience of injury was no different from the dream she’d had, and she was soon healed. As soon as I read this, the “realness” of my replaying dog-and-crash scene dissolved from my thought, and from then on, I felt no discomfort—not even at my Latin dance/aerobics class, which involves much stretching and jumping.
I’m so grateful to learn that all it takes is one clear thought—one recognition of “perfect God and perfect man” (Science and Health, p. 259 )—to be able to demonstrate spiritual perfection. That clarity brought me willingness to trust what I knew.
Carol Panerio
Spearfish, South Dakota, US
