By Pam ♥️
I remember the house we lived in. I remember the pole I ran into. I remember my mom’s love.
I think I was probably about six. I’d been going to Sunday School since I was really little. I remember that I thought the words “Sunday School is dismissed“
were part of the Scientific Statement of Being. After all, it was always said together.
But I really didn’t connect Sunday School with healing. Until I ran into the pole at a swimming party at a community pool somewhere. I don’t know who put that iron pole in my way, but I sure didn’t see it. The concrete was wet, and I slid face first into that pole.
I must have been pretty knocked out by it, because the next thing I remembered was lying on a bed in our back porch, and my mom sitting with me and comforting me.
She told me she had called a Christian Science practitioner to pray for me. At the time I found that very comforting and I remember feeling very safe.
Much more than that I don’t recall, except that soon I was up and happy, and outside in the backyard, playing with my cat, Uncle Alfie. (Named after a favorite uncle.)
I think that was the beginning for me, of having quiet times where I simply trusted God. And I could find God, like a friend, keeping me safe when I walked to school, a very long distance, because my mom didn’t have a car. And I treasure that memory because mom showed me that God was right there, and mom was there. And that someone called a practitioner who was praying for me.
Sunday School meant more to me after that.