I First Visited Argentina and its capital, Buenos Aires, in 1994 and felt a deep love for the country and its people. During the current economic and political crises, I've found it important to remember that what is going on today didn't happen overnight. This beautiful country has been in a state of instability for many decades, and needs our prayer as it grapples with the past and moves into the future.

At the beginning of the 20th century, people in Paris would use the expression "As wealthy as an Argentine" when talking about a person with money. Argentines, who made their money raising beef and utilizing the country's natural resources, traveled all over the world, especially to Europe. They moved in the highest social circles. When they returned, they created what became known as "the Paris of South America." Today, you can still see this South American City of Lights—sometimes hidden under billboards and suffering from neglect. Yet, right there you meet its elegant, educated, cultured citizens.

Since beef prices started to decline after World War II, through the Peron era, and later during the "Dirty War" years of the military regime, the country has endured times of great social and economic turmoil. Like many tango lyrics, it seems the Argentines are constantly lamenting their life and waiting for a future that never comes.

It's also important to note that even though there is poverty, this condition is not like that of other countries. Literacy and education levels are high. That's why this present situation is all the more painful.

But a hopeless Argentina is not what I saw during my visits in 1994, '96, or '97. Walking around Buenos Aires I felt I was in a city full of vitality. A city with people on the go, a people working hard to build for tomorrow. Waiters, proud of their job skills, took great care of their customers. Businessmen walked through the streets conducting their affairs on cell phones, as they headed over to meet with friends for lunch. Teachers led long lines of children, all holding hands, to play in the park. A young man was walking 20 dogs—all at one time! And I cherished so many other things, such as the theaters on Avenida Corrientes, the restaurant near Plaza Del Congreso that served empanadas, the wonderful shop close to Avenida 9 de Julio with that delicious chocolate covered marzipan. The movie houses and record shops on Calle Florida. Or seafood on the Balneario, and frogs' legs in the Spanish neighborhood. And tango dancing!

Over the past eight years, I've spoken with several close friends about this country's paradox. Where many Argentines see a life full of problems, I see a gorgeous country with vital people. One friend sighed and said, "But, Ricardo, you don't live here." Another friend, an American who moved there with her husband, said, "Ricardo, it's wonderful to visit, but once you live here things change. You see what it really is like."

They may be right. But all that still doesn't change my mind. In Science and Health, Mary Baker Eddy stated, "The admission to one's self that man is God's own likeness sets man free to master the infinite idea" (p. 90). We cannot be separated from God. Not here at home, and not in Buenos Aires, or in Sydney, or in London. I believe I take my only surround with me, no matter where I live. I know from experience that if I think of God, my thought becomes my experience.

The almost 60 years of suffering and decay in Argentina must stop once and for all, and spiritual freedom, serene and joyful, should come to light. Maybe that's what is happening. Maybe these circumstances are forcing a whole people to wake up and understand the dominion they have as "God's own likeness." I know I can't do this for them, but I can strive to "master the infinite idea" in my own life, which includes how I see a country so close to my heart.

We need to give our friends in Argentina a caring, helpful hand in any way we can. They are on the front line of battle. In Argentina, as in many other parts of the world, a war on mental slavery is being fought. And we are all soldiers in this war. Even if we are thousands of miles apart, we are working together, shoulder to shoulder, and the victory is already ours.

This article was originally written in Spanish for El Heraldo de la Christian Science.

Ricardo Saldívar is circulation marketing manager for the Sentinel, and for The Herald of Christian Science in its 12 language editions.