Before the day begins
before the headlines and breaking news
I wake in the quiet of the middle of the night,
climb into the lap of universal Mother-Love
and feel her pull me close,
comforting, assuring,
“All is well. All, all is well.”
I nestle in under Her shoulder,
and feel the vibrations of Love’s cosmic humming.
The light is beginning to fill the sky now
and I prepare for the new day
with Love’s assurance still with me,
“All is well. All, all is well.”
– Karen Molenaar Terrell
I’ve been hesitant to share this because I’m not sure how people will react to it, but… what the heck, right? I think it would be shameful if I let my cowardice prevent me from expressing my gratitude.
A couple of weeks ago I began feeling a pain in my tooth that felt suspiciously like the pain I’d had that had led to a root canal a few years ago. Two weeks ago on Friday I ate something hot and the nagging pain went to a throbbing pain that lasted for hours. My dentist’s office isn’t open on Fridays, or the weekend, so going to the dentist was not an option for me.
I reached out to a Christian Science practitioner for her prayerful support, and very soon I felt the pain diminishing. She gave me some thoughts to work with on the topic of “substance.” As I prayed, I focused on these three ideas: 1) Love, God, made everything, and everything Love made was good. So there is no bad substance. 2) There is no lack or limitation of good substance because Love is infinite and unlimited. 3) Disease is unnatural. This became my mantra – “There’s no bad substance. There’s no lack of good substance. Disease is unnatural.”
At some point that weekend I felt like I’d been healed. The pain was gone. I called the practitioner and thanked her for her support, and told her I was going to take it from there. But doubts continued to enter into my thought. I’m going to visit family in California in a couple weeks, and the idea of dealing with tooth pain while I’m down there was concerning.
So on the next Monday morning I called my dentist and went in to see him a couple days later. I described what the pain had felt like the week before, and he did some tests and looked at some x-rays and said everything pointed to a root canal. His office made an appointment for me to see a periodontist the next day.
As I was driving to the periodontist I listened to CS hymns on my CD player. As the singers were singing about “light,” the light shone through the clouds and landed on me. And I realized I wouldn’t be surprised if the periodontist told me I didn’t need a root canal, after all.
X-rays were taken, tests were performed, and guess what? The periodontist told me I didn’t need a root canal, after all. 
He said one of my old fillings was going to need to be replaced by a crown at some point, but my regular dentist could do that for me.
Love, God, laughed with me all the way home.
I haven’t felt any tooth pain at all in the last couple of weeks.
(Originally posted June 15, 2016.)
About once a week I walk into town to buy a hummus roasted veggie sandwich and to see my friend, Frank, who works at the sandwich place. Frank is gay. We’ve never talked about his gayness or my not-gayness or anyone’s whatever-ness in conversation – I mean – it’s not like people usually approach a new friend, shake hands, and introduce themselves by their labels – “Hi, I’m Karen and I’m a progressive bleeding heart liberal heterosexual female Christian Scientist of mostly European ancestry (although there might be some Basque Reptile Alien in there, too) – and how about you? What are your labels?” – but, yeah, Frank is gay.
This week when Frank asked me how I was, I gave the usual, “I’m good. And how about you?” And he gave the usual, “I’m good.” But this time something made me stop and really look at Frank. And I asked, “Frank, how are you really?” Frank said it had been a rough week.
He said he’d been in a bar earlier in the week, and he’d heard people at the next table over saying – in deliberately loud voices so Frank could hear – “Yeah. Those people in Florida deserved it.” Frank had tried to remain civil to them – he and the bar-tender had had their own conversation – loud enough to be heard – about the terribleness of the tragedy. And the people at the next table spewed out some more hatred. And Frank wondered about them: Hadn’t they ever been targeted for being different in some way? Didn’t they know what that felt like?
I started tearing up. “Frank, where does that hate come from? I don’t understand it.” Frank shook his head sadly, and said he thought it came from ignorance – from people being afraid of what they don’t know. He said he leaves those people in the hands of the Lord – and he didn’t mean that in a vengeful way – but in a “God will help them” way.
I told Frank that I was with him. I told him that he wasn’t alone. And he thanked me and gave me a hug.
Later on I was thinking about what Frank had said – his wondering if those people had ever been targeted for being different – and it made me remember a time, years ago, when I’d been watching a local “town meeting” on television and I’d heard someone say that “All Christian Scientists should be lined up against a wall and shot.” It had been strange and disturbing to hear someone who didn’t know me wish me dead. It stuck with me. I learned something from that.
Anyone could become a target – hatred is a form of insanity, really, and it doesn’t have to make sense – maybe tomorrow it will be stubby people, or extra tall people, or people with green eyes, or left-handed people, who will become the targets.
I think when we take the time to get to know each other – to try to understand each other without judgment or condemnation – to listen to each other – when we take the time to get rid of our own ignorance – we are doing a lot to make the world a better place. It’s been said so many times, but I think it’s true: Love really IS the answer.
Mary Baker Eddy wrote in Science and Health (p. 107): “God had been graciously preparing me during many years for the reception of this final revelation of the absolute divine Principle of scientific mental healing.”
What did this “gracious” preparation look like? Well, let’s see… she was widowed at the age of 22, when she was pregnant with her only child. Her son was taken from her when he was four and she didn’t see him again until he was grown. Her second husband was a philanderer and they divorced. She suffered from debilitating illness from an early age. And at the age of 45 she slipped on an icy sidewalk and was so severely injured the doctor declared she was dying.
Maybe God has been “graciously preparing” all of us for what we’re facing now. Think back to all the challenges you’ve faced – the times you were terrified, the times when things seemed hopeless – and then remember the Father-Mother Love that brought you through. Remember the healings. “Hold fast to that which is good.” (Thessalonians 5:21).
I think Love has been preparing all of us – each in our own way, each with our own lessons, giving each of us our own gifts to use right now.
Dear friends who support our current administration –
I feel the need to clarify my feelings and thoughts about what is happening in our country right now. Some of you have accused me of hating our president, and have been puzzled about why I want to pay taxes on what you call “wasteful spending.” Here are my thoughts:
1) No, I do not hate our current president. I do, however, hate what our current president is doing to our country.
2) I actually feel good about paying taxes that support our federal workers, our federal infrastructure, and the well-being of my fellow Americans. For example: I don’t mind paying taxes to support our veterans; those who need medicaid to stay alive; the air traffic controllers who get us safely to our destinations; the rangers who maintain our parks, and rescue our kiesters from our misadventures; the FEMA workers who help our loved ones rebuild their lives after natural disasters; the scientists and researchers of NOAA who help us deal with climate change; or the farmers who, through USAID, provide food for those who are starving. I do not consider any of this “wasteful” spending.
I do not, however, feel good about paying taxes to give tax cuts to billionaires, or to subsidize their private companies.
Karen
I woke up at 2:00 in the morning, feeling scared for the world. I went downstairs to commune with the Cosmos and the cats. Sparky cat settled onto the sofa next to me, and blinked his reassurance. I heard Love say, “I’m right here.”
I went back to bed to sleep a little more, and when I got up I drove up to Fairhaven for my walk on the boardwalk. I haven’t been there for a week and I’ve really missed it. But it seemed empty when I got there – almost like a ghost town. I wondered if maybe the cold was keeping people away, or maybe we aren’t getting as many Canadian visitors as we normally do. It was kind of weird. But then a young woman carrying a cup of coffee smiled at me, and I heard Love say to me, “I’m right here with you.”
I took the boardwalk down to the coffee shop in Boulevard Park and ordered a mocha. I sat on my favorite high chair and swung my legs back and forth while I sipped my drink and toodled around on my phone and watched people. When I left the shop, the baristas called out, “Have a good day!” I thanked them, and then called back, “You, too!” They laughed and nodded their heads. And Love said, “I’m still here.”
Going back on the boardwalk towards Fairhaven was warmer – my back was against the wind. I saw a man coming my direction turn around and walk backwards, and I smiled at him and said, “That’s better, isn’t it?” He grinned and nodded and said it was great exercise to walk backwards, and it was also a lot warmer.
A sweet pup named Remi approached me for a scratch behind the ears. He looked like he was hobbling a little and his human explained that he’d just been through two surgeries – one for his hip and another for his back. She said he’d been paralyzed at some point. But here he was – walking! I told Remi’s human that I was glad he had her, and she said she was glad she had him.
And Love said, “I’m right here.”
I had already decided I was going to treat myself to a breakfast at the Colophon. I hoped I’d get my favorite seat in the corner – but I’d take whatever I was offered. I also hoped Taryn would be there – she always makes me smile.
The hostess recognized me and welcomed me in. She asked me if I’d like my favorite seat in the corner! Then Taryn appeared – she was going to be my server! And THEN – when I got situated in my corner seat, the Four Tops came on the background music channel, singing, “I’ll be there…” and I started cracking up.
I love when the Cosmos has fun with me.
Okay. Here’s my current struggle: I’m trying to keep my wall kind and joyful; I’m also trying to be an ally to those in need of allies right now; I’m trying to nurture the good in people and trying not to feed what’s bad (and this includes myself); I’m trying to trust in Good – trying to trust that my fellow humans have the wisdom and courage to see and do what’s right and decent even when the odds are against them. And when I bring all of this to my wall it looks like a hodgpodge patchwork of swans and smiling pups, political insanity and heroism, frustration, anger, Christopher Walken and Borowitz. It’s a little messy right now.
I apologize. I’m trying to bring order out of chaos here and it ain’t easy.
If nothing else, please know this: I love you. I honor the good in you. The world needs all the good you have to bring to it right now.
Note to a friend:
I know that God loves you no less than She loves me. I know that God loves all of Her children without limit. And I trust that She is continually leading and guiding each of us down our own paths in life, with our own lessons waiting for us – and it’s not my business to decide how you should think or feel or be. But it IS my business to follow God’s direction in my own life – and that includes taking a stand for what I know is honest and right, and confronting evil when I see it.
In love, Karen
Would Love exist if no one had a brain?
Is Love dependent on nerves and dopamine?
Are we within Love or is Love housed in gray goo?
When our bodies die, does Love die, too?
Love, I think, is bigger than goo,
bigger than “me” and bigger than “you” –
for I believe Love is EVERYTHING –
the Source of the song all creation sings.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell
Christmas Eve, 1988. I was in a funk. I couldn’t see that I was making much progress in my life. My teaching career seemed to be frozen, and I was beginning to think my husband and I would never own our own home or have children. The world seemed a very bleak and unhappy place to me. No matter how many batches of fudge I whipped up or how many times I heard Bing Crosby sing “White Christmas,” I couldn’t seem to find the Christmas spirit.
I was washing the breakfast dishes, thinking my unhappy thoughts, when I heard gunshots coming from the pasture behind our house. I thought it was the neighbor boys shooting at the seagulls again and, all full of teacherly harrumph, decided to take it upon myself to go out and “have a word with them.”
But after I’d marched outside I realized that it wasn’t the neighbor boys at all. John, the dairy farmer who lived on the adjoining property, was walking away with a rifle, and an animal (a calf, I thought) was struggling to get up in the field behind our house. Every time it would push up on its legs it would immediately collapse back to the ground.
I wondered if maybe John had made a mistake and accidentally shot the animal, so I ran out to investigate and found that the animal was a dog. It had foam and blood around its muzzle. She was vulnerable and helpless – had just been shot, after all – but instead of lashing out at me or growling as I’d expect an injured animal to do, she was looking up at me with an expression of trust and seemed to be expecting me to take care of her.
“John!” I yelled, running after the farmer. He turned around, surprised to see me. “John, what happened?” I asked, pointing back towards the dog.
A look of remorse came into his eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry you saw that, Karen. The dog is a stray and it’s been chasing my cows. I had to kill it.”
“But John, it’s not dead yet.”
John looked back at the dog and grimaced. “Oh man,” he said. “I’m really sorry. I’ll go finish the job. Put it out of its misery.”
By this time another dog had joined the dog that had been shot. It was running around its friend, barking encouragement, trying to get its buddy to rise up and escape. The sight of the one dog trying to help his comrade broke my heart. I made a quick decision. “Let me and my husband take care of it.”
“Are you sure?”
I nodded and he agreed to let me do what I could for the animal.
Unbeknownst to me, as soon as I ran out of the house my husband, knowing that something was wrong, had gotten out his binoculars and was watching my progress in the field. He saw the look on my face as I ran back. By the time I reached our house he was ready to do whatever he needed to do to help me. I explained the situation to him, we put together a box full of towels, and he called the vet.
As we drove his truck around to where the dog lay in the field, I noticed that, while the dog’s canine companion had finally left the scene (never to be seen again), John had gone to the dog and was kneeling down next to her. He was petting her, using soothing words to comfort her, and the dog was looking up at John with that look of trust she’d given me. John helped my husband load her in the back of the truck and we began our drive to the vet’s.
I rode in the back of the truck with the dog as my husband drove, and sang hymns to her. As I sang words from one of my favorite hymns from the Christian Science Hymnal– “Everlasting arms of Love are beneathe, around, above” – the dog leaned against my shoulder and looked up at me with an expression of pure love in her blue eyes.
Once we reached the animal clinic, the veterinarian came out to take a look at her. After checking her over he told us that apparently a bullet had gone through her head, that he’d take care of her over the holiday weekend – keep her warm and hydrated – but that he wasn’t going to give her any medical treatment. I got the distinct impression that he didn’t think the dog was going to make it.
My husband and I went to my parents’ home for the Christmas weekend, both of us praying that the dog would still be alive when we returned. For me, praying for her really meant trying to see the dog as God sees her. I tried to realize the wholeness and completeness of her as an expression of God, an idea of God. I reasoned that all the dog could experience was the goodness of God – all she could feel is what Love feels, all she could know is what Truth knows, all she could be is the perfect reflection of God. I tried to recognize the reality of these things for me, too, and for all of God’s creation.
She made it through the weekend, but when we went to pick her up the vet told us that she wasn’t “out of the woods, yet.” He told us that if she couldn’t eat, drink, or walk on her own in the next few days, we’d need to bring her back and he’d need to put her to sleep.
We brought her home and put her in a big box in our living room, with a bowl of water and soft dog food by her side. I continued to pray. In the middle of the night I got up and went out to where she lay in her box. Impulsively, I bent down and scooped some water from the dish into her mouth. She swallowed it, and then leaned over and drank a little from the bowl. I was elated! Inspired by her reaction to the water, I bent over and grabbed a glob of dog food and threw a little onto her tongue. She smacked her mouth together, swallowed the food, and leaned over to eat a bit more. Now I was beyond elated! She’d accomplished two of the three requirements the vet had made for her!
The next day I took her out for a walk. She’d take a few steps and then lean against me. Then she’d take a few more steps and lean. But she was walking! We would not be taking her back to the veterinarian.
In the next two weeks her progress was amazing. By the end of that period she was not only walking, but running and jumping and chasing balls. Her appetite was healthy. She was having no problems drinking or eating.
But one of the most amazing parts of this whole Christmas blessing was the relationship that developed between this dog and the man who had shot her. They became good friends. The dog, in fact, became the neighborhood mascot. (And she never again chased anyone’s cows.)
What the dog brought to me, who had, if you recall, been in a deep funk when she entered our lives, was a sense of the true spirit of Christmas – the Christly spirit of forgiveness, hope, faith, love. She brought me the recognition that nothing, absolutely nothing, is impossible to God.
We named our new dog Christmas because that is what she brought us that year.
Within a few years all those things that I had wondered if I would ever have as part of my life came to me – a teaching job, children, and a home of our own. It is my belief that our Christmas Dog prepared my heart to be ready for all of those things to enter my life.
(The story of our Christmas dog was first published in the Christian Science Sentinel [“Christmas Is Alive and Well“] in December 1999, and retold in Blessings: Adventures of a Madcap Christian Scientist in 2005. It was later included in The Madcap Christian Scientist’s Christmas Book in 2014. It was also included on the Christian Science Sentinel radio program in December 2000.)
Adventures of the Madcap Christian Scientist 