Getting a job in the kingdom

The summer I was 15, I decided I wanted a “mother’s helper job.” Many of the girls at my school got these jobs, working as live-in help for wealthy New York families on vacation. It seemed a chance to do something interesting and perhaps glamorous for the summer. So we all applied, and one by one, my friends got job offers. But I didn’t.

I was terribly disappointed.

My mother suggested that I should talk to a Christian Science practitioner. So I did.

I told the practitioner my story and she turned me to Hymn No. 148 (Anna L. Waring) in the Christian Science Hymnal. “In heavenly Love abiding,” the hymn begins. Later, it continues: “Wherever He may guide me, / No want shall turn me back.”

The practitioner also reminded me of some of the spiritual facts that I was learning in my Christian Science Sunday School class: that I was a spiritual idea, loved by God and complete in every way, and that my real dwelling place was neither my parents’ house nor some other vacation home, but rather the kingdom of heaven. And that there I could trust I would have all the good I needed at every moment.

I did trust. In fact, the practitioner’s words seemed so clear and logical to me that after my visit with her I left all concern behind. Whenever the thought of summer plans came up, I just calmly reminded myself that I was dwelling in the kingdom of heaven and could never be separated from the good that comes from God—whether I had a job or not.

Finally it was June, the next-to-last week of school. To my surprise, I received a phone call. A family still looking for a mother’s helper wanted to meet with me. My friends were skeptical. “No good family is still looking in June,” they told me.

But I decided to give it a try. The following Monday, after school, my mom drove me into Manhattan to meet with them. It was an incredibly hot day and the traffic was horrendous.

We arrived, just in time, at a grand apartment building with two doormen on duty. We told them the name of the family with whom we had the appointment, and they shook their heads.

“They’re out of town today,” they told us.

We said we were sure about the arrangement, so they said we could sit in the lobby and wait if we liked. We decided that we would wait an hour to see if they turned up, even though it now seemed unlikely.

“You might just not have a job this summer,” my mother said as we sat down. “Are you all right with that?”

The conviction that had been with me ever since talking to the practitioner was so absolute that I was surprised by the question.

“Mom, I told you what the practitioner said,” I answered. “I live in the kingdom of heaven. I have whatever is right for me to have.”

“Of course!” agreed my mom. And then we went on to enjoy an hour of lively conversation. Finally we told the doormen goodbye and left.

Later that evening, the family called. They had confused the day for our appointment and they felt terrible. We made another date, and after a brief interview, I was hired.

The job, it turned out, was an absolute gem. The family was wonderful. We had a very enjoyable summer together at the beach and established a friendship that continued on into the fall—a lovely added treat for me.

I could trust I would have all the good I needed every moment.

But there’s one more interesting twist to this story. After we got to know each other, I asked this family why they had been so late in hiring. They said that they had actually interviewed many girls but were waiting for the exact right fit.

“It was one of the doormen who told us it was you,” they said. “The night we came home after missing you he said, ‘The right girl was here today.’ ”

They asked him how he knew and he said, “She and her mother drove into the city on the hottest day of the year, but didn’t get angry when you weren’t here. And the way they sat talking in the lobby, I could see they enjoyed being together. There was real love there. I said to myself, ‘That’s the girl!’ ”

So just when I least expected it, I was actually doing my interview. I couldn’t help wondering, though, if the love and equanimity the doorman had noted would have been on display on that challenging afternoon had I not been filled with spiritual confidence.

As an adult, I’ve come to see this experience more clearly. At the time, my faith was absolute and rather childlike. But now I can see that the practitioner’s words had helped me glimpse some simple but profound truths about my being. As Mary Baker Eddy wrote in Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, “The eternal Truth destroys what mortals seem to have learned from error, and man’s real existence as a child of God comes to light” (pp. 288–289 ).

And that’s what happened the day I spoke with the practitioner. I saw more clearly my true identity as a child of God, and that understanding helped to destroy the lie that I was a mortal with limited prospects for good. Then I could see the blessings that were already mine. And that’s what seems especially beautiful to me about this healing: even before the job came along, I enjoyed a sense of absolute confidence. The words of Hymn No. 148 pretty much sum the whole thing up: “But God is round about me, / And can I be dismayed?”