I feel that I cannot better begin the new year than by a public acknowledgment of what Christian Science has done for me, though the part that I can tell is small indeed. I was brought up on medicine. My earliest recollections include drugs of every description, besides large and dreadful doses of would-be tonics and blood-purifiers. I was a sickly child, often in pain, seldom free from some ailment. As I grew older my health did not improve. My school life was a succession of long-continued absences and frenzied "crammings" to make up for lost time. All this, together with the hardships and privations of extreme poverty, brought me to womanhood poorly equipped to face the hard thing called life. The past was full of bitter experiences and sad memories; the present often held pain of mind and body so great as to seem unbearable. My greatest and apparently well-founded fear was that I might become an invalid or go insane, in either event becoming a helpless burden to those I loved. This thought was so intolerable that I was often tempted to end my life. Had I felt sure that such a step would solve the problem, I should certainly have taken it, but in the background of my consciousness was the feeling that it would not—that these conditions must somehow be worked out on the present plane of existence.
I was a very devout church woman, lived much in prayer, and constantly sought to satisfy my inner craving by conversing upon the subject of religion with those whom I felt should be authorities. Invariably I found myself condemned by the orthodox thought on many points, yet could never give up certain innate convictions. One was that God could not be responsible for great and terrible disasters; another, that He was not the author of death. Dimly I felt that our suffering must come from a misapprehension of His purpose, yet I could not explain that purpose nor meet the arguments of the theologians except by thinking within myself, "My God does not do this." Five years ago there came a time when a crisis in the unhappy conditions of my life broke down my spiritual fortitude. I reached the point where I could no longer pray. Only those who have been through the experience know what anguish this means. I could but argue. "If I am being disciplined, it is only fair that I should be shown to what end. If I am being punished for sin, in common human justice I should know what my sin is, else how can the punishment benefit me?" This was the darkest hour of my life, but day was already dawning. In this blind, frenzied groping for Truth, divine Love found its opportunity. I suppose I "had never wanted Truth so wholly before!
I was led, still blind, but passive, to teach in a community where were a number of very earnest seekers for the light. One of these saw my need, and gave me some helpful literature. As I read an article on the destruction of fear, a strange medley of emotions filled me. I doubted the authority of any one to say there was no occasion for fear— I had known so much! Yet deep in my soul there was the response of a voice silent many years, and something awoke that should never sleep again. The mandate was to deny every thought of fear. I shall not forget the exultant sense of freedom that shook me as I declared aloud, "There is nothing in the universe for me to fear!" Conviction came with this utterance, and at that moment my healing began. Later, Christian Science meetings were instituted, and I attended, with ever-increasing confidence that my search for Truth had at last been rewarded. For the benefit of those who have prejudice within themselves to overcome, I will say that my only thought of Christian Science before this had been that it was a foolish and rather heartless fad. But the real Science, which I now met for the first time, appealed to my reason from the beginning; it made me willing to lay aside preconceived opinions, and to suspend judgment where I could not at once accept a tenet. I advanced slowly, and my healing was correspondingly slow, but the constant increase of inward joy was very marked.
