Our family had an experience a year ago last spring which proved to me that no situation is beyond God's control, and that there is never an instant when He isn't tenderly caring for His children.
We were beginning our annual ski vacation in the Rockies. It happened to come during a period of special mental altitude for my husband and me. I had been working in Science with him on a disorder that had kept him from his job (which he had since returned to), and we had been sharing and cherishing inspiration for several weeks.
The joyful poise we were feeling as a family was challenged as soon as we arrived at the cabin. We discovered that intruders had broken through a window. Glass was scattered about and the cabin was a mess. Anger, resentment, even hatred tempted mightily. But I felt strongly that we mustn't surrender a bit of our joy, and I was impelled to urge my husband and the children to deny dishonesty any claim to be part of God's creation. We all set about the business of cleaning up; I was particularly grateful for the cheerful part the children assumed in that process.
Later, as we prepared to go out shopping for supplies and to get supper, our daughter became acutely ill. I vigorously sought to maintain a clear concept of true consciousness—its wholly divine nature and utter imperviousness to attack of any sort. I acknowledged that a child of God cannot be robbed of his eternal, active ability to know and respond to his Father-Mother. Little did I realize at the time that the metaphysical drafts I partook at that hour would help sustain our whole family in the very near future.
Our daughter was soon free of discomfort, and after we put her and her brother to bed, my husband and I talked of the challenging, yet ultimately satisfying, events of the late afternoon and evening. Later, as I started to crawl into bed, I spontaneously said I thought I'd sleep in our daughter's room. I had no undue concern for her, and it never had been my habit to spend the night with the children if there had been a difficulty earlier. Nonetheless, I found myself expressing that inclination; my husband encouraged me to go ahead.
It was late and I looked forward to a sound sleep. I took a few moments, though, to reaffirm the truths that had come to me earlier, and to thank God for the inspiration we'd had that day.
Two hours later I found myself awake. This was unusual, since I rarely wake at night, and that night I had been especially ready for sleep. But even more unusual was the distinct need I felt to get up and go to my husband for help. Rationality interrupted: everything's fine, your daughter is peaceful; you're imagining things, go back to sleep. But the beckon to rise was irresistible, and in no time I found myself standing up and then walking down the stairs. Very clear in my thought was the Bible verse (II Tim. 1:7) "For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind."
My recollection of succeeding events is fragmentary. I remember finding myself prostrate on the floor outside my husband's room. I wasn't afraid and I distinctly recall knowing that I couldn't be deprived of my God-given consciousness. But I also sensed that something was amiss in the cabin.
We were to find out later that a faulty vent cover had collapsed and that, as a result, most of the cabin, especially the upper floor, had filled with carbon monoxide fumes. My husband was sleeping in a newer wing of the cabin that operated on a separate furnace, so his room was unaffected.
Afterward, he told me that he had heard me say his name quietly and calmly outside his door. (He wondered that he had, because he also is a sound sleeper.) He then heard me collapse. When he managed to move me to one side to open the door, I roused to tell him I thought that there might be gas in the house. Then I lost consciousness.
He carried me outside and put me in a snowbank. Waking, I felt calm and secure as I watched my husband bring our daughter out to the car. He then led me to the car and went back in for our son. Physically I seemed very weak, but I felt vividly that God was in command. My husband told me later that he, too, felt no panic or anxiety, just a clear, methodical sense of direction.
After he brought out our son, he set him on his feet in back of the car and then returned to the cabin. I called to the boy to get in. He said something, then collapsed in the snow. Instantly I felt a surge of strength and purpose. I knew our son's need and immediately felt equal to the challenge.
For a fleeting moment I feared losing him. But as I gathered him in my arms, I simultaneously denied any personal claim to him and affirmed his oneness with God. I put him on my lap in the car. Out loud I said, "God is your life, Merritt," several times and asked him to repeat the declaration. It wasn't some religious chant I was urging; it was a strong, simple statement of spiritual truth. Presently he did join me, and we proceeded to sing the hymn "Mother's Evening Prayer" with words by Mary Baker Eddy (Christian Science Hymnal, No. 207). It begins, "O gentle presence, peace and joy and power. ..." It has always been a favorite of ours, but at that moment it contained for us unprecedented meaning. Our daughter sang, too.
My husband had gone in to call a Christian Science practitioner. He had no way of knowing where I had packed a copy of The Christian Science Journal (with its listing of practitioners), and he did not know the phone number of the individual he wanted to call for support. But he reported that he had no difficulty in reaching the practitioner.
I remembered having seen a light in a friend's cabin down the valley. So we called there to ask if we could spend the night. Readily they welcomed us in. I reasoned on the way over that God, whose guidance had brought us through what to human sense was a potential disaster, could now only lead us to the right haven. The people at the cabin were alert, hospitable, generous, and kind. Though they asked initially if we didn't want medical attention, they did not press further after we assured them of our well-being.
We were bedded in an unheated upper story with lots of blankets; the remainder of the night was restful for all of us. I had called the practitioner before retiring, and he had turned my attention to the story in the Bible of the three Hebrews in the furnace (see Dan., chap. 3). Already I had been thinking of that story in connection with a testimony given in our branch Church of Christ, Scientist, the previous Wednesday. The testifier had referred to the part where the king looked into the fire and said (Dan. 3:25): "Lo, I see four men loose, walking in the midst of the fire, and they have no hurt; and the form of the fourth is like the Son of God." In recalling that testimony now, I felt sure that "the form of the fourth"—the Christ presence—had been with us earlier that night.
I continued thinking of the story as I lay in bed, pondering the fact that the Hebrews suffered no ill aftereffects whatsoever. I applied the same law of liberty to our situation, and mentally struck down every suggestion of weakness, nausea, fear of sleep, and so on. I felt a welling strength, a growing sense of dominion, and my thoughts began to turn to church. I brimmed with gratitude for God's direction, for the gift of His Christ, for church and its rousing, elevating mission. Healings shared at recent Wednesday testimony meetings, and now recalled in meaningful detail, supported and strengthened me. By dawn I wasn't surprised to see the children gambol about in the icy air, totally unaffected and joyous.
That day, the furnace system at our cabin was restored to normal. (The technician who worked on it commented on the "miracle" of living through an influx of carbon monoxide such as he encountered in the cabin.) And the family resumed normal vacation activities, including a full afternoon of skiing.
Though we were not spared the experience of a gas-filled house, as the three Hebrews weren't spared the experience of the furnace, we (as they) were most wonderfully spared any harm and, in fact, felt only strengthened, elevated, and closer to God as a result. Later, in retracing the events of that day, my husband and I recognized the orderly progression, the precise timing, the undeniably spiritual triumph of it all. Though we'd been mostly unaware at specific moments of the implication of our actions and thoughts, at a certain point we had realized the guarding, awakening presence of the Christ. Now we understand more clearly that that protecting, healing influence is with us always, no matter what the human situation. I felt then, and I feel now, a deep humility—certainly as the Bible says (Phil. 2:13), "It is God which worketh in you both to will and to do of his good pleasure"—and a profound love for the real Church—"the structure of Truth and Love" (Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures by Mrs. Eddy, p. 583) where, in truth, we live and commune with our dear Father-Mother God.
Barrington, Illinois
This experience described by my wife has been a source of inspiration and spiritual strength to our family. Prior to it, I had doubted my ability to act calmly in a situation where my wife or our children might be threatened; consequently, I am most grateful that we were able to demonstrate the calming, guiding, protecting influence of the Christ throughout what could have been an alarming ordeal.
