1 What I wanted more than anything was to know God better.
I was spending a lot of time with my mom, who had been diagnosed with terminal cancer and was being cared for in an assisted living facility not far from my home. During the final days of her life, a number of family members joined me there, and they talked often about how sad it was that so many people in our family had suffered—and eventually died—from this same disease.
I had grown up believing that cancer was something to be feared, and it wasn't until I became a student of Christian Science in 1981 that I realized that no disease can have more power than God, who is all–powerful good. As I listened to my family discuss this condition, I quietly held to the idea that God didn't create sickness of any kind. And that meant it couldn't really exist.
Shortly after my mom passed on, though, I noticed that a small sore had appeared on my body. As time went on, it began to grow. Because my husband and I had had many healings in the few years we'd been relying on prayer, we both felt confident that this condition would be healed as well.
Over the next few months, I prayed with a lot of different ideas. I carefully considered the Biblical account of creation given in the first chapter of Genesis, which states that "God saw every thing that he had made, and, behold, it was very good." Gen. 1:31. I knew that God's creation included me, and that meant that I was good, wholly good—and couldn't contain an element of anything unlike God. I also thought a lot about the definition of generic man in Science and Health, which says that man "is not made of brain, blood, bones, and other material elements." Science and Health, p. 475. This definition told me that I was completely spiritual, and not subject to material conditions like sickness, disease, or death. I prayed to understand that there can be no death. Because God is Life, I am the expression of Life, right now and forever, throughout all eternity. I also thought a lot about the idea of growth, until the fear subsided, and I felt certain that the only real growth going on was the growth in my spiritual understanding.
However, the sore continued to get bigger. At a certain point I found I could no longer function productively.
During this time, I was working as a Christian Science practitioner, helping others to find healing through prayer. At times I wondered how I could help any one else when I didn't seem to be doing a very good job for myself. But I knew these thoughts didn't come from God, and I prayed to understand that I didn't have to be influenced by them.
I continued to take on new patients and to pray for them—focusing on understanding God and His creation better. I knew that as I learned who God is, I would understand who man is as His reflection. And every time a patient called me to report a healing, it gave me the confirmation I needed that prayer does, indeed, heal.
As the months turned into years, I began to think of this experience as a journey, through which I would learn valuable spiritual lessons. Every morning as soon as I woke up, I would ask God, "Father, what is it that I need to know?" And every morning, month after month, the answer was the same: "My dear child, you just need to know Me better." It wasn't that I thought God was withholding healing. I knew that He already saw me as perfect and complete. And I believed this experience offered an opportunity for me to understand that better.
I spent hours on our front-porch swing getting better acquainted with my dear Father–Mother. I purchased a wicker basket just large enough to hold my books—the Bible, Science and Health and other writings of Mary Baker Eddy, a concordance, a dictionary—and my cordless phone. Off to the front-porch swing I would go for a day of prayer. To me, prayer is all about listening. So I would listen for God to direct my thoughts. And if a word or idea came strongly to me, I would look it up in one of my books.
When I learned that two other family members had been diagnosed with cancer and had passed on, the word expunged came to me. I looked it up and found this statement by Mary Baker Eddy: "The human history needs to be revised, and the material record expunged." Retrospection and Introspection, p. 22. I realized that I needed to shake the belief that I was at the mercy of my human history, that I was part of a family susceptible to this disease. Instead, I prayed to understand that, as the child of the one divine Parent, God, my real nature was spiritual, not material, and the only thing I could inherit from God was good. Each time I prayed this way, I would feel peaceful. And little by little, I began to experience that peace more frequently. I began to be convinced that healing was taking place—even though the material condition hadn't changed. In fact, at some point I'd completely stopped focusing on having my body healed. What I wanted more than anything was to understand God better. And, through that understanding, to recognize my own identity as His child.
After a while, I was no longer able to do the housework or prepare meals. My husband had to help me dress and do my hair. He also helped with bandaging. As we changed the bandages, I would think of the process as no different from putting on a sock or a shoe. I didn't ignore it or make light of it, but I absolutely refused to let the condition frighten me.
There were days, however, when the pain was intense and the bleeding profuse. During those times, I would become very dizzy, and occasionally I would faint. On one evening, I even felt that I might be passing on. But with the help of another practitioner, I prayed to know that God is my Life. I honestly wasn't afraid, because I knew that there was nothing in the world that could separate me from Him. And within a short time, my condition improved.
Even though my husband was very supportive, he did ask at one point if I would consider a medical diagnosis so that we would know what specifically to pray about. But since I knew I wasn't out to change a physical body, but to see the perfection of what God had created, there didn't seem to be any reason to find out more about the condition. I was convinced that my deepening understanding of God was showing me my immunity from any disease. And I felt it was just a matter of time before physical healing followed. I talked this over with my husband, and together we decided that a diagnosis was unnecessary.
I did wonder from time to time what our family and friends would think of Christian Science if I were to pass on, but I realized it wasn't my job to prove to them that prayer heals. God could do that in His own way. It made me think of God's declaration of Himself in the Bible: "I AM THAT I AM." Ex. 3:14. I knew that I was at one with that "I AM." And I had every intention of praying until I understood that completely.
The word probing came to me, and when I looked it up in Science and Health I read, "Belief produces the results of belief . . . . The remedy consists in probing the trouble to the bottom, in finding and casting out by denial the error of belief which produces a mortal disorder . . . ." Science and Health, p. 184. I realized that throughout this experience, I'd been probing my thinking, casting out all the "errors of belief" that I had held about myself. In doing so, I was actually affirming God's allness and my oneness with Him.
I looked up the word microscope and read, "Matter disappears under the microscope of Spirit." Ibid., p. 264. I really felt that any notion that I was made of matter had begun to disappear from my consciousness.
When the word radiation came to me, I looked it up and I found this: "These false beliefs will disappear, when the radiation of Spirit destroys forever all belief in intelligent matter." Ibid., p. 556. To me, this is what my prayer was all about.
As time went on, I felt that I was really beginning to understand this statement: "Metaphysics resolves things into thoughts, and exchanges the objects of sense for the ideas of Soul." Ibid., p. 269. Every day I tried to translate the objects I saw around me into the ideas they represented. I searched for good in everyone and everything I came into contact with. I didn't want to just see material good. I wanted to understand the goodness around me as the expression of God, of divine Love itself. I continued to do this until I got to the point where I was just filled with love for everything and everyone I met.
One day, seven years after the growth first appeared, it began to get smaller. And within a month, it was completely gone. Three months later, our daughter asked me to accompany her to the doctor's office, where she was having some stitches removed. It was there, in a picture on the wall, that I saw a description of the condition I'd had. It was labeled one of the deadliest forms of cancer. And it had been healed completely through the power of prayer. This healing took place over two years ago, and I remain completely free.
I learned from this experience that there is absolutely nothing that can't be healed. I've seen firsthand that God is my Life, and that I reflect that Life, regardless of any physical condition. There's a quiet comfort in knowing that, a comfort that can't be shaken.
2 I learned to rely less on myself, and more on God.
I used to get very anxious about things. I'd get anxious about what was going on in the office where I worked. I'd get anxious about relationships. Sometimes even the littlest things would send me into a tailspin.
I didn't realize how bad the anxiety had become until I started to experience severe pain in my chest, often in connection with these moments of extreme worry. The pain gradually got worse, and there were times when I was very afraid. Based on the symptoms, I was pretty sure that the condition would be classified as heart trouble, though I never got a medical diagnosis.
To all appearances, I seemed to be fine, and everyone was surprised when I quit my job. But the pain had gotten to the point where I didn't feel I could work anymore, so I left the office and devoted myself to prayer.
I was convinced that this condition could be healed—completely and permanently—so I called a Christian Science practitioner to pray for me. I'd found prayer to be extremely effective in the past, because as I'd learned more about God, I'd noticed how things had a way of being set right. I'd come to feel God as Love, always caring for and protecting His children. I'd begun to know God as Spirit, who made all of creation spiritual. Throughout my life, as I'd come to understand these and other facts about God more deeply, healing had followed.
As I prayed with the practitioner over a period of weeks, and then months, I began to see the connection between the way I reacted to situations and the way I was feeling, physically. More often than not, the pain would intensify when I was particularly worked up over something. And that was when I realized that what really needed to change was my thought.
I had a tendency to be very willful and strong-minded and also to take responsibility for the way a situation was going. I felt burdened by the need to solve everything or to fix all the problems that arose in my life.
The practitioner assured me, though, that this was an opportunity to rely more on God and less on myself. He reminded me that I didn't have a life separate from God to be influenced by circumstances of any sort. And he encouraged me to see the whole of my existence as being in God's hands. To see that God was caring for me, guiding me, bringing my every thought into line with what was good and true.
It helped me a great deal to "let go and let God," as the expression goes, and I began to practice trusting God in my day-to-day living. When I started to feel anxious, I'd pray. At first, I even went so far as to go into a separate room where I could be quiet and listen for what God was telling me. I thought a lot about this passage from Science and Health: "All is under the control of the one Mind, even God." Science and Health, p. 544. To me this meant that as He was divine Mind and wholly good, God knew what was really going on—harmony instead of discord, order instead of disorder—and that I could be helped and calmed by listening for His ideas. Often, I found solutions this way, too.
Over time, it became easier to hear God's messages, even in the middle of stressful circumstances. And I was also getting a better understanding of the fact that I was spiritual, because I found I was less unsettled by what was going on around me. I became anxious less frequently, and in those times when I start to get worked up, I could yield to God much more quickly.
One of the ideas that meant a lot to me as the years went by was a line from the Bible—Jesus' promise that "ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free." John 8:32I liked this statement because it showed me what I was doing—not practicing positive thinking but really listening to God and what He was saying about my forever connection to Him. Dealing with the anxiety wasn't just about telling myself that everything would work out or that I would be OK. It was about trusting that what God, or Truth, was communicating was just that—truth. And that this truth about the goodness and perfection of creation would set me free.
A little over nine years after I experienced the first symptoms of this condition, I was struck one day with some of the most intense pain I'd ever dealt with. My husband wasn't home, and though I called the practitioner who'd prayed with me before, he wasn't available either. I kept praying and tried again. And then again. But I couldn't reach him, and I started to feel frantic.
As I hung up the phone, though, an earnest prayer came from my heart—a prayer like one I'd never prayed before. "OK, God," I prayed, "it's just the two of us. God, You're there all the time, and I know this. This is why I know I can trust You. Since You really are All, then there's nothing else to trust. God, I give myself over to You 100 percent. I give You my life, my family, my activity, everything. It's entirely Yours. From now on, I'm listening to You 24 hours a day. That's all I want to do, God. I'm Yours."
Looking back, I can see now that this was the first time I'd ever completely given up a material view of myself and my life. Bit by bit, I had been trusting God more. But this moment—when I admitted that God was All, my only Life, the only power and Love and Truth—was my first real glimpse of the fact that there aren't two separate creations, one material and one spiritual. I saw that there is only Spirit and Spirit's creation, and that I'm a part of that.
Well, within an hour, I was feeling much, much better. I thought, "That's it! I'm on the right road!" And I was.
Day by day, I left each moment to God. It was my goal and desire to turn to Him for every decision, every thought, every feeling. I knew that this was how I'd been created. As God's reflection, I couldn't have a thought or action that wasn't in line with good, with Him. As a spiritual idea, nothing—not pain, not stress, not difficult circumstances, nothing—had the power to influence me or unsettle me. But now I was really understanding this and living that way.
In fact, I was so busy living this life of God–directed activity and thinking that it wasn't until a few months later that I realized I was healed. At first, I was overcome by it. After almost a ten–year struggle, it was a little bit of a jolt to realize that the pain was gone. But I quickly realized that there was nothing miraculous about this. This was the natural result of recognizing the allness of God and the nothingness of matter. And isn't that what every healing is about?
Today, I still stop occasionally to ask myself, "Are you letting God run the show?" And if I'm not, then I pray until I know that He is, and that He always has. The practical effect of this is that I continue to find that the guidance, strength, and, most of all, love of God is right there with me. And that filling my life with God brings peace, resolution—and healing.
3 We began to see that our daughter was already complete.
SINCE her birth, our daughter, Ankita, had been a source of joy for my husband and me. But after about three years, we had grown quite worried about her. Unlike other children, she could not express herself through speech. And she would often scream or cry over little things for very long periods of time, during which she appeared unable to understand what we were saying to her. In many ways, she seemed almost deranged. Friends advised us that this kind of behavior was abnormal and should be medically treated.
We went to a doctor, who recommended that we see a child psychiatrist. I was not eager to do this. We were acquainted with a family whose child had exhibited similar symptoms, and she had been diagnosed as mentally retarded. My husband and I were concerned about this kind of labeling, and we wanted to help our daughter in other ways.
We tried everything we could think of to help Ankita feel secure and loved. I was concerned that I was not spending enough time with her, so I decided to put career on hold for a period of time in order to say home with her. I tried different methods of encouraging her to talk. We also visited a neighbor's house, so Ankita would have an opportunity to play with other children. But the children would avoid her. She couldn't express herself like they could.
Then we tried enrolling Ankita in play school. But she had problems there, too. She could not interact with the teachers, and she continued to cry for long periods of time. And it seemed that she understood nothing they said. Quite frequently, the teacher would call me and ask me to take Ankita home.
Day by day, I became more protective of my daughter. I felt that I couldn't leave her alone anywhere. I was so tense that I started to suffer from high blood pressure. I took homeopathic medicine for this and studied meditation. But nothing seemed to help. There was no improvement in my health or that of my daughter.
Later, when Ankita was attending a different school and I was back at work, I overheard some remarks made by a colleague. She was talking about Christian Science. I was encouraged to hear that prayer can help people overcome the problems in their lives. And I was eager to learn more. I talked with my colleague about my daughter, and she invited me to church. She said I could bring my daughter to Sunday School.
When we attended church with our daughter, I had to sit with her in the Sunday School. The teacher agreed to this arrangement, given my daughter's situation. At first Ankita was afraid and would not respond to anyone. She would sit in a chair by herself, and sometimes run into the church service and scream. At other times, she would spit on the chairs.
But everyone at the church expressed love to her. She grew comfortable enough to sit in her Sunday School teacher's lap. And she learned how to switch on the tape recorder when it was time to play hymns. The teacher and the other students even helped her learn the Lord's Prayer. After a few weeks, Ankita's fear lessened. She was soon able to be on her own in Sunday School, which allowed me to attend church services.
After we had been going to church for about six months, my husband—who had also begun to study Christian Science—and I decided to ask for help for our daughter from a Christian Science practitioner. My husband had witnessed the physical healings I'd begun to have, and he'd become convinced of the efficacy of this form of treatment.
In the first meeting, the practitioner told us that man, including male and female, was made in the image and likeness of God, and is, therefore, complete and perfect at every stage of growth. He referred to this definition of children from Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures by Mary Baker Eddy: "The spiritual thoughts and representatives of Life, Truth, and Love." Science and Health, p. 582. He also suggested we read the first chapter of Genesis in the Bible.
These selections were a source of great inspiration for both my husband and me. I was so comforted and encouraged to know that God made each one of us as His own image and likeness. It was wonderful to realize that this was true, not just for us, but for daughter as well.
We visited with the practitioner once a week and learned more from the many other ideas he shared from the Bible and Science and Health. He also asked us to consider attending Wednesday testimony meetings at church—and taking our daughter with us. In spite of the disruptions Ankita caused at first, we were welcomed with great love. And slowly Ankita quieted down, and occasionally gave testimonies.
In spite of this progress, however, there were still problems. It was difficult not to feel discouraged when months passed with little sign of progress. There were times when I used to feel depressed. My husband, too, was disturbed by Ankita's behavior. But the practitioner would reassure us time and again, "Your daughter is God's daughter." He encouraged us to allow God to take care of His child.
We came to know that all children are children of God. They are spiritual and perfect. Together, my husband and I would often affirm Ankita's God-given perfection. And we saw more and more that our daughter was already perfect and complete in every respect. Slowly, I began to understand more clearly that my daughter was under God's control and that the symptoms I saw didn't belong to her—they weren't part of her identity as the likeness of God. And little by little, our daughter's behavior began to improve.
One day, I noticed that Ankita was going to the park alone without me. She started to play there with children of her age. Reports from her school also improved. She started to complete her class work alone and to follow the teacher's instructions. Also, we saw remarkable improvement in the quality of her work, which was evident from her performance in midterm examinations.
About ten months after we had first asked the practitioner to pray with us, we realized that Ankita had been completely healed. And at one of the medical examinations of the children in her school, the doctor declared that she was perfectly normal.
Now, at age seven, Ankita freely mixes with children her age. Her teachers describe her as attentive and well-behaved. She converses and writes well. She even participated in a drama and acted on the stage. She is now the way we had been praying to see her: whole and complete—in every way.
