While attending college I began dating a Christian Scientist. Warned by friends and relatives against getting involved with a Christian Scientist, I asked a professor, who was also an ordained minister, about Christian Science. He answered that he wished we all had the faith of Christian Scientists. Hearing this eased my mind, and I was even further comforted when I attended a Christian Science lecture and saw the assistant minister of my church there! Later, the Scientist (mentioned above) and I were married.
For seven years after our marriage I vacillated about whether to attend my husband's church, my church, or no church. Then, when our son was four years old, he had his third bout with tonsillitis. After prescribing many drugs, which had no effect, the doctor finally said that the tonsils should be removed. Well, my conscience, which had given me no trouble about the prescribed drugs, rebelled at the suggestion that an organ should be removed! So I decided that before consenting to the operation, I would read the textbook of Christian Science, Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures by Mary Baker Eddy. But I didn't tell anyone. I wanted no pressure one way or the other. I needed to decide for myself. Within the first week I had an opportunity to try out what I had been reading.
My son and I were outside washing windows on a nice spring day. He was "helping" by washing the basement windows, which he could easily reach. At one point he disappeared around the corner of the house and then came back running and screaming, "They bit me! They bit me!" (It was evident that he had encountered insects of some kind.) Immediately I thought, "This is an opportunity to try Christian Science." I began reasoning with my son by saying that since God made all and since everything that He made was good, there was nothing in God's universe that could hurt him. Immediately the child stopped crying. Following this line of reasoning, we talked as we went into the house, where I washed his hands and face, which had little red marks on them. He and I, both quieted by the conversation, decided to go back to work. The next time I looked at my son, his skin was perfectly clear.
