ONE WEDNESDAY afternoon, I began experiencing a headache that became more intense as the day wore on. At the time I was serving as the organist in a Southern California Christian Science church about 45 minutes away from my home. By the time I needed to leave for church, my head felt like it was in a vice. My thought at that moment was, "I wish I didn't have to go. I can't concentrate on the music let alone travel the freeways and surface streets that take me to the church."
It was too late, however, to call for a substitute organist even if one were available. So I gathered my purse and briefcase and got into my car. Before starting the engine, I said out loud, "Either God is All-in-all or He isn't. Which are you going to accept?" Having been raised in Christian Science the answer was a no-brainer. I needed to recognize that God is All, and all good, so there can be no condition unlike Him such as a headache. I backed the car out of the driveway and immediately started singing one of Mary Baker Eddy's poems, "Mother's Evening Prayer," set to music. I concentrated on the meaning of each word as I sang all of the settings in the Christian Science Hymnal, and I applied those healing ideas to myself.
This journey, on three different freeways, was during the rush hour and usually resulted in encountering traffic jams. As I proceeded on the third and final freeway, I realized that there were no cars on either side of me in all four lanes, and none closer than 500 yards in front and in back. It was an eerie feeling to find myself driving so freely during rush hour traffic. I left the freeway and followed the surface streets to the church. I became aware that from the time I backed out of my driveway until I parked the car in the parking lot of the church, I hadn't stopped once. Not even for a red light, as all lights had been green. When I arrived at church, I realized that I didn't have one vestige of pain. The headache was completely gone. I have not had a recurrence of a headache since and that was over 30 years ago.
