When our son Cody was about four years old, he began to complain of stomach cramps. My husband thought we should take him to a pediatrician, who said he had a bowel obstruction, which was not life threatening, but something Cody would have to live with for the rest of this life. These was no medication he could prescribe, but he added that Cody was lactose intolerant and should avoid dairy products, and certain other foods, including donuts and candy—two of his favorite foods!

We were relieved the condition wasn't termed life threatening, but I felt the label of incurability was unacceptable. I'd seen many healings through Christian Science in our children's lives. In my heart I knew that Cody was a child of God's creating, therefore spiritual, and that God, a loving Father-Mother, didn't make mistakes which needed to be corrected.

My husband supported my decision to have a Christian Science practitioner pray with us. The practitioner and I prayed with the concept of tolerance. We maintained that as a spiritual idea of the divine Mind, Cody lived and moved in the universe of Spirit, where nothing existed to cause him pain, harm his health, or interfere with his natural activity. Because of this, he could not be intolerant to a food or anything else—even his two younger sisters. And we also prayed to see his natural spiritual identity as a loving, patient, and tolerant child.

One definition of the name Cody is actually "helpful." This was a quality I felt I could focus on in my view of Cody. So I made a point of seeing him as a cooperative and caring member of our household, and I asked Cody to see himself as helpful and to practice helping others. We also talked about not seeing his sisters as pests, but as wonderful, fun girls whom he could learn to be grateful for and enjoy. This wasn't easy for him, but he was willing to work at it.

As we prayed and looked for evidence of Cody's spiritual selfhood, the symptoms of cramps and pain seemed to subside, and his behavior became gentler. I tried to be practical with food management, but I didn't want anyone in the family to feel that food was the cause or the cure of any problem—so I allowed for "fun" foods, such as candy. In my prayers, I held to the fact that God controlled every aspect of our lives, including food intake and bodily functions.

Then, when Cody was about six, we got a trampoline, but after he'd been jumping for only a few seconds, his stomach began to hurt and did so whenever he tried to jump.

I knew it was important for Cody to be completely free of this condition and again called a Christian Science practitioner. She shared some brief ideas and told me that she'd pray for Cody right away.

Immediately after I hung up, Cody came in and told me he had something to tell me. He said how badly he felt because one of his friends had thrown a rock, over a year ago, through a neighbor's window and they'd never told anyone. He then unloaded a list of times he felt he hadn't been honest or good. Mostly things like saying something mean at school or thinking bad thoughts about someone. I could tell he knew these were wrong behaviors and that he'd felt guilty for quite a while, which made him feel bad about himself.

I hugged him and said how much his dad and I loved him, and how much God loved him. I reminded him that nothing bad could stick to him and that only bad thoughts could be destroyed. But Cody became a walking, talking confessional, and I couldn't seem to get him to stop. I then wondered if he felt the stomach pain was some kind of punishment—which of course it wasn't since he was spiritual and only God's goodness had ever touched him.

Still praying with the practitioner, I set out for a walk. I asked God what I needed to see about this situation. This line from Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, by Mary Baker Eddy, came to mind: "Prayer is not to be used as a confessional to cancel sin" (p. 5). When I got home, I turned to that page and read, "Such an error would impede true religion. Sin is forgiven only as it is destroyed by Christ,—Truth and Life." What this said to me at that moment was that no one ever needs to "earn" a healing through prayer or good works. Cody's perfection was permanent—and the only thing that needed destroying was the false concept or belief that Cody could be sick or sinful. No more was required of us.

Later that same day Cody asked if he could try jumping on the trampoline. I told him that he had a right to have fun. I sat at the kitchen table watching him, firmly recognizing his God-given and complete freedom. He jumped for hours with no stomach problems at all. That was the end of it. From that point on he ate, drank, and jumped freely and confidently.

Years later Cody was at a snowboard training camp, much of which is done on trampolines. When I went to visit, I went right to the training facility to see the campers' jumping performances. I stood by one of the dads who also came to watch. He said, "You've arrived just in time to see the best kid of all—you'll be amazed at what this guy can do on a trampoline." The kid was Cody. I was amazed, yet so grateful to witness him expressing his God-given talents with such freedom and grace.

Cody is now 18 years old, and he continues to be very active. He enjoys surfing near our home and competes as a member of his school's freestyle snowboarding and mountain bike teams. And he still regularly enjoys eating donuts.

KATIE MARTIN
NEWBURYPORT, MASSACHUSETTS, US