That Catalog Headline caught my attention. Curious, I leaned over the kitchen table, flipped the page, and read inside: "Nurturing yourself isn't selfish, it's a necessity." The article went on to point out the high percentage of illnesses that are stress-related, and explained how the spa products advertised in the catalog would help one "reconnect with well-being." This struck a chord with me because I'd just returned home from a workshop about spirituality and health, at which the presenter quoted a recent medical newsletter that encouraged its readers to "nurture their spirit," suggesting it would have health benefits.

For quite some time, we've been hearing how important it is to our health and well-being to eat properly, get enough sleep, exercise regularly, and so on. And now, as these examples indicate, there's a growing chorus of voices emphasizing the importance of taking care of ourselves—not just physically, but spiritually.

But, understandably, someone might ask, "What exactly does it mean, to nurture yourself spiritually?" and "How can you do it effectively?"

At one time in my life I answered these questions in quite a different way than I would today. In my former career as a psychotherapist, I often counseled my patients to take time just for themselves and to do things they enjoyed: Take a vacation, spend time outdoors, get a massage, take a yoga class, and so on. These were good suggestions. However, both my patients and I realized that while these activities were helpful, the benefits weren't lasting. Often patients would come back to me afterwards and ask, "OK, what now?"

I've since realized that the answer lies in going deeper—in discovering there is a divine source for our care and well-being that we are forever connected to, which doesn't grow tired or wear out, but loves, supports, and sustains us continuously.

In my study of the Scriptures, the spiritual meaning of which has been opened up to me through the teachings of Christian Science, I've learned that that divine source is our Creator, who has made us in His/Her image. This all-good, divine Parent is constantly nurturing and strengthening us, causing us to know our innate goodness, health, wholeness, and value, communicating as a loving parent to a child. As we listen to, accept, and strive to live in accord with what God is telling us about our wholly spiritual nature, we are nurturing and loving ourselves, and we can expect to find a greater degree of harmony and health in our lives.

In an article written by the founder of the Sentinel, there is an instructive insight into the meaning of "'Love others as well as you love yourself'" (Matt. 22:39, The Message). Referring to how we can love ourselves, Mary Baker Eddy explained, "... thou shalt recognize thyself as God's spiritual child only ..." (Miscellaneous Writing 1883–1896, p. 18). I've ultimately found this to be the most effective way to nourish ourselves spiritually and thus be ready to love and care for others.

In my own life, this last year provided abundant opportunities for me to practice seeing myself and others in this way. For most of the year, I was bombarded with deeply challenging life events. First, my father, whom I was very close to, and whom my husband and I had nursed for some time, passed away.

Within a short while, my mother, who requires round-the-clock nursing care, was hospitalized. My brothers and I subsequently decided it was best for her to move into a nursing home. This was by far one of the most difficult decisions of my life. The future of our coastal family home, which we all loved, was suddenly in question. Fifty years of "stuff" had to be sorted through and taken care of.

Also during this time, my husband was trying to secure permanent employment in his field without any success. And shortly after settling my mother into her new home, a dearly loved aunt, my "second mother," passed away. A few weeks later, my sister-in-law was diagnosed with cancer and passed away within a very short time. And finally, the night of her funeral, my mother's doctor called and said she had suddenly become extremely ill and to come right away because they didn't think she would live through the night.

As you might imagine, the stress of these circumstances forced me to lean on God in a more consistent and intense way than I'd ever done before. I realized very quickly that in order to deal with all of these challenges effectively, it was essential that I tend to my own spiritual needs daily—hourly, in fact. Throughout this time, it was as though my life itself became a prayer.

The ideas in Science and Health, Mrs. Eddy's primary book on Christian Science, were my anchor, particularly one that became my watchword for the year: "We must look deep into realism instead of accepting only the outward sense of things" (p. 129). I understood this to mean that I had to constantly align my thinking and perspective with what God was knowing about His creation—looking past outward appearances "deep into realism."

This was not a psychological or mental exercise, but a powerful, transforming, spiritually impelled, prayerful activity. I couldn't allow myself to be pulled down into believing that the things going on around me, the illness, death, sadness, incompetence, and loss—as glaring and convincing as they might seem—were the spiritual reality about my life and the lives of those around me.

In order to look past that scene, I found I often had to become mentally very still, shutting out the negativity, and then listen. This allowed me to hear God's tender, clear voice speaking right to my heart, telling me of all the good She was seeing, doing, knowing, right then and to feel the divine power that was at work. It often demanded a thought-by-thought, moment-by-moment practice of "stand[ing] porter at the door of thought" (see Science and Health, p. 392), letting in only the thoughts I wanted imaged in my life experience.

I had to mentally consent, in my heart of hearts, that what God was communicating to me was the only truth about my family situation. Right there, in the midst of pain, suffering, and illness, was what God was giving—life, vitality, strength, health, wholeness, joy, goodness, abundance. I saw and felt it. And evidence of it began coming in little and big ways through the wisdom and kindness of the medical staff, the thoughtfulness of a neighbor, the closeness and support of family and friends. There were countless examples.

Still, there were times when it was a mighty struggle. But through it all, I found Love's tender presence to be tangible. "Don't be afraid, I'm right here. I am Life itself, and life continues uninterrupted. None of My little ones can ever be separated from good," were angel messages whispered into my heart and mind. Most powerful and healing was the wordless experience of feeling God's love enveloping me and my family.

By the end of the year, the practical, healing benefits of consistently seeing myself and others the way God does—as with new eyes—was clearer to me than ever before. My mother recovered and is back to her usual sweet self. Her doctor just put his hands in the air and said, "I don't know what happened!"

My brother and his two children have had so much good come into their lives, which keeps multiplying. And they've been steadily overcoming the sadness of losing a wife and mother.

We worked out a way to keep our family home so that we can all continue to enjoy it for many years to come. And my own life has opened up in fresh ways, with an expanded sense of purpose and work. I've recently opened an office in a neighboring city (after looking for almost a year for just the right space) where I'm meeting so many individuals with receptive hearts, who are deeply yearining to understand their true spiritual nature. I assure them that "recognizing thyself as God's spiritual child only" is possible for anyone to do, and the blessings that come with this spiritual practice are abundant. The same is true for you.