THE FIRST GLIMMERS of my commitment to the practice of Christian Science, and the healing love that it brings, began in a hospital in another country, thousands of miles from my home in the United States, with the words of a pediatrician: "Your son has a 50–50 chance of living through the night. If he lives, he will in all likelihood be physically and/or mentally handicapped."
My son was just a baby, and those words were like daggers to my heart. In my anguish, my deep mother love for my child turned me like a flower to the sun—back to what I hadn't seriously practiced in years, but knew from my own childhood healings would help my son. The Science of the Christ.
That night I prayed with a depth that I hadn't known before. As I prayed, I could see that my son's life was not in a little physical body—it was found in all that he expressed of God. His goodness, his intelligence, his sense of fun and joy—all had God as their source. And because God, Life, is ever present, those sweet expressions of divinity are always present. They can't die. They can't change. They can't be lost. My son's individual and full expression of those ideals was and is perpetual, immortal, and unique to him.
