Articles

ON THE SUNDAY just before Christmas in 1888, a sermon written by Mary Baker Eddy was given in Boston's Chickering Hall.   See Miscellaneous Writings 1883–1896, pp.

GROWING UP WASN'T ALWAYS STRAIGHTFORWARD.  I'd been ill for several years through my late teens and early twenties—first with a toxic parasitical illness, and then with clinical depression.

ONE YEAR, INSTEAD OF BAKING ME A CAKE, my mother celebrated my Christmas Day birthday by giving me a pot of poinsettias. "Now we're not talking about age here," she said when she gave me the flower pot with its big red bow.

To strike out right and left against the mist, never clears the vision; but to lift your head above it, is a sovereign panacea. —MARY BAKER EDDY IN A WAY, IT'S NOT A NEW DEBATE.

One thing leads to another, but often in unexpected ways. Just ask Judy Jackson.

MY FIRST VISIT TO BANGLADESH WAS IN 1972. The desire had come a few years before, when the Annual Meeting of The Mother Church focused on the international field.

ANYONE WHO HAS LEAFED through The Message: The Bible in Contemporary Language and read a line or two knows that Eugene H. Peterson has an ear.

Every one of her ten visits to Bethlehem over the past ten years has brought new insights into the nativity, says contributor Olene Carroll, author of "Humility fit for a king" (p. 10).

REJECTS. That's the word we saw stamped here and there on the corrugated metal sheets that formed the walls of the ramshackle shack my teenaged daughter, Emily, and I entered one morning last August.

THE MAIN THING WAS: It just didn't seem fair. I'd just gotten back into training after a broken shoulder had kept me on the sidelines during most of the track season.