JUST a few days ago, I felt an urge to make a call that I rather disliked to make. By following this urge, I was made to contact (or permitted, privileged to contact) a sweet little woman whom the medical men have frightened almost “to death.” Her home and practically all her material supply had been absorbed by doctors’ bills and medicine.

Imagine if you can what sort of life one must be living, lying throughout the long hours of both day and night, thinking during waking hours and perhaps dreaming during troubled sleep of people hounding one for debts one cannot pay (according to mortal mind), being told constantly by members of family, so-called friends and doctors, that one is suffering from an incurable malady, with no ray of hope on this sphere, and only longing, as she frankly told me, for a cessation of it all, for the time when she can have rest.

This from one of the sweetest little women, around thirty-five years old, and who has had the grace to adopt a little waif, who is now about 13 years of age—“Just the age when a girl needs a mother,” as this little earth angel said to me. “That is the only reason I would like to stay on.”

When she adopted this child she tells me she had a nice home and sufficient income to care for her nicely. This belief of illness has changed all that.

It was certainly Christ in me Who went to that woman, Who spoke to her lovingly, gently and truthfully through me. A great change came over her face as words flowed from my mouth. New hope, joy, gladness, new life shone forth from that countenance. Despair fled.

The woman who had led me to her—who had told me she was “simply going to get her rent or insist upon her vacating the property,” listened carefully, then helped by producing paper and pencil to write down some of the affirmations I had voiced, and forgot all about the “eviction” proceedings she had contemplated, did not even mention it, and wound up by asking me to help her to a realization of the healing of her shoulder which had been injured.

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