This account, translated from the Norwegian, was originally published in The Herald of Christian Science (Norwegian Edition).
Coming home on a Wednesday evening a couple of years ago after a testimony meeting at our church, I was greeted by one of my three cats. Two of them were kittens at the time, and it was not unusual for them to make considerable noise for their size. But as I was taking off my coat, I froze, realizing that the sound coming from upstairs could not come from the kittens. The next second I heard steps. I saw a pair of jogging shoes at the top of the stairs. The individual wearing them started down toward the doorway where I was standing motionless. A young man came into view, his face covered by a scarf.
In some situations there is no speed limit to thoughts. Intuition told me I must be calm, though. I had no idea what this person might have in mind. There was absolutely nothing I could do physically about the situation. One thought freed itself from the rest: I had to trust that this person who did not want to be recognized was actually a loved child of God. That was all I needed to know of him. I was clinging to God as never before.
