When I was in my early twenties, my dear husband suddenly passed on. For almost a year, I struggled alone with feelings of grief and loss, and an overwhelming sense of injustice. I saw persons in the street who appeared to me as wrecks of humanity, of little or no value to themselves or to others. And yet they lived while my husband, a brilliant young law student with a promising career ahead of him, was dead. I was so troubled that often I could not sleep, so the family physician offered me sleeping pills. But I flatly refused, stating that I needed something to strengthen me, not make me weaker.
Finally, on the recommendation of an aunt, I sought the help of a Christian Science practitioner. I understood almost nothing of what she talked about during our first visit. However, when I left the appointment, it was as if the world had been lifted from my shoulders—as though for the first time in almost a year I could fully breathe again. I learned that this was the vitalizing and healing effect of Christian Science treatment. It was this glorious release from overwhelming despair that prompted me to continue my visits to the practitioner and ultimately to become a Christian Scientist myself.
My first visits with the practitioner were instructive. The ideas we discussed became guidelines in my study, and they still are now, some four decades later.
