In childhood my first healing in Christian Science was of a painful boil. The quick relief brought to their little one at this time strengthened the faith of my father and my mother in the course they had entered upon. Other early healings through this Science were of leg ache, jaundice, mumps, and a severe wound, the result of falling on a rusty spike.
In my school days Christian Science was invaluable in solving problems, overcoming fear in examinations, and harmonizing relations with teachers and classmates. I know that only Christian Science could have taught a child so well to see only the good—as God does. In later years this practice of loving was a solid foundation for the house of my happiness, and though the winds and waves of discord assailed it, it stood fast. I was protected and guided when no human discernment was able to see which way to turn, and I was afforded useful employment when I needed it. Bitterness has been wiped out of my memory. Though mortals have thought that time is the healer of sad memories, I have seen that God erases them quickly. Christian Science has indeed saved me from despair, and has given me faith, hope, and deep happiness.
I should like to tell of the healing of two faults of character. It was my duty to be a homemaker; but I was apparently without a right sense of order, and even dirt and lack did not stir me to right activity, as they normally should have done. I thought that I was happy in my hopes and dreams; but the conditions which did not disturb me were very trying to others, and, indeed, injurious to the harmony of the home. Through agonizing experience I was roused to the necessity of a change, but my earnest struggles did not at first bring correction. Desire itself had to be made new; and this Christian Science did, giving me a love of order and cleanliness that resulted in the immediate manifestation of the beauty I had dreamed of. When I realized this healing I was at my kitchen sink. It was right there that I found true beauty, right there that I was healed.
