My mother was regarded as a delicate person by members of her family. When my arrival as her firstborn drew near, fears and doubts were felt for her condition. However, it was her child who soon became the focus for concern. I seemed unable to digest any food.
Despite all medical efforts, I suffered from malnutrition, became emaciated, developed tubercular bowel, then rickets, and was pronounced incurable. Finally, to Mother's despair, dropsy set in, and my early demise was diagnosed as inevitable.
Christian Science was at that time somewhat of a novelty in our area, but when a kind friend recommended that it could heal, Mother embraced it yearningly, as well as desperately. No half measures—out went all medical aids. Within a day of prayerful treatment by a Christian Science practitioner, my condition improved; but several years of dedicated prayer were needed before all fears were proved to be illusory and powerless. It seemed a different complication appeared every time one disorder had been overcome. Still, it was generally agreed I was making progress.
