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Previously, communicating was not one of my strong points. I would either not talk about things that bothered me, or I would communicate my feelings bluntly and harshly. I’d worked at improving my communication skills, but had reached a point in my growth where I was content. During my last two years of high school, I was very antisocial after school hours, feeling better about having “alone time” with God than spending time with His children.

As college began, I really did want to get to know everyone. But my conversations with people would go like this: Someone would start a conversation, and I’d talk the whole time. Then I’d leave the scene with a horrible feeling that I never really listened or got to know what was happening in the other person’s life.

So I buckled down in prayer and called a Christian Science practitioner. We worked on knowing that God is the communicator (see Mary Baker Eddy, Science and Health, p. 284). The practitioner helped me better understand the idea that all of us are expressions of one divine Mind. Because of this, I began to see that maybe I didn’t need to say everything I thought was necessary to share. We talked about how sometimes responding with just a sentence or two was sufficient. 

Something else I needed to work on was that when others gave constructive criticism or friendly suggestions, it would seriously ruffle my feathers. I was tempted to get irritated by others’ actions or communication styles, too. So I began trying to assert my feelings with others calmly. My mom reminded me, “Let patience have her perfect work,” an idea found in the Bible (James 1:4) and mentioned again in Science and Health (p. 454). My mom’s point: Becoming a better communicator wasn’t something I had to fight or become frustrated with, because these skills were God-given and already included in who I was. 

During the beginning of my first fall term, I was excited to know I would be visiting Guatemala the following winter break to fulfill a language requirement through my college, Principia College. Unfortunately, by the last two weeks of the fall term, all I wanted to do was go home for the break. I just wanted to go back to my solitude. A little bit self-centered, right?

I thought it was completely justified for me to be irritated by people, or to talk too much and not listen enough. Then I "woke up."

I soon saw this Guatemala trip as God figuratively “pushing me over a fence.” God wasn’t going to let me fall back down again on the same “side of the fence” by going back home—stuck in my comfort zone and everything that used to be me, the “me” that wasn’t comfortable relating to or being around other people. 

Once I was in Guatemala, I was trying to fit in socially with the other students, but started slipping back to my old ways, coming up with reasons why I was right in not wanting to be around others. I thought it was completely justified for me to be irritated by people, or to talk too much and not listen enough. Then, as I read the Christian Science Bible Lesson, I “woke up” with this quote from Science and Health: “Neither sympathy nor society should ever tempt us to cherish error in any form, and certainly we should not be error’s advocate” (pp. 153–154).

An advocate? I asked someone in my abroad group what that meant and was told, “Someone who agrees with or fights for something instead of against it.” Suddenly, I realized I was being an advocate for “error,” for false concepts about myself that were the opposite of what God, good, knew about me. All those reasons I was giving myself not to grow out of my self-centered ways, those thoughts of self-justification, needed to stop! I thought: “Self-justification is being an advocate for error, Ann. Don’t stick up for something that isn’t a part of you. Don’t give it any support.” Instead, I realized I should take others’ opinions and even their constructive criticism and be grateful. 

I came to realize that self-justification is fighting for the right to be an imperfect mortal when someone else is asking you to be better, or recognizing your true spiritual perfection. Why would I want to justify limited ideas about myself, and “keep” them as mine?

When I no longer accepted or fought for ideas that limited me, my spiritual growth took off at what seemed the speed of light. I opened myself up to my real and only identity as the reflection of a perfect God. I began to genuinely thank those who gave me friendly suggestions, like other students, school staff, and good friends. Their comments showed they placed no limitations on me and knew what I was capable of as a reflection of omnipotent Mind. I took what they said as defensive, rather than offensive. It was as if they were gently helping me stay in check, helping me “stand porter” at the door of my own thought (Science and Health, p. 392).

It did take time, but I noticed I stopped myself when I began to interrupt others or if I’d been talking a lot. And I noticed how I would ask more about others rather than speaking about myself. This became a natural part of my conversations as I prayed to see who I was spiritually, instead of trying to force myself to communicate better.

A humbling moment came during my abroad group’s last Wednesday testimony meeting in Guatemala. A fellow student was asked if he wanted to say anything because he was the only one who had yet to share. His words brought tears to my eyes. He said although he definitely had a lot to say and to be grateful for, sometimes he just likes listening to what everyone else has to say.

I also found comfort that night in Hymn 97 in the Christian Science Hymnal, which had been sung during the service. First, it spoke to me as someone who works hard and hopes to “see his toil succeed.” It then encouraged me not to be weary or fear, because I will “reap the fruits of joy.” At last, it called me to look and bear witness to spiritual good, because “harvest time is surely here.”

It took the rest of my stay in Guatemala, and really the whole rest of my freshmen year of college, to get socializing and communicating under my belt. I grew spiritually in Guatemala, and it wasn’t so much the location, but rather it was because I was “pushed” to become the best I could be—the social and communicative individual that I always was as God’s child. Ultimately, I learned the importance of being silent sometimes, even for an entire conversation, and just listen to others—and God! 

Some who gave up on being friends with me were now happy to be with me. I gained a much greater peace with people, and quicker adaptability to unexpected situations or changes. Now, with a stronger sense of God’s all-loving family, I can’t even fathom the idea of wanting to seclude myself from others.