Open Writing

Our next-door neighbours, Mr and Mrs Appleby, Charles and Alice, had come to Australia from Lancashire. They were Christian Scientists.

As a child, this meant nothing to me. I didn't think about it at all that I can remember. I knew they went to a church called the Church of Christ, Scientist, not to be confused with the ordinary Church of Christ, but that was as far as my knowledge went, and my curiosity was not aroused to ask what the difference was, if any.

Everybody we knew seemed to go to different churches, and although I knew that Roman Catholics were somehow different, the other Protestant Churches all seemed to be much the same to me. They all had Sunday School, then church, with prayers, hymns, singing by the choir, a collection, more prayers, a boring sermon, which I didn't listen to, then shaking hands at the door with the minister. Home to a roast dinner in the middle of the day, not matter how hot the weather in Melbourne, and no playing outside. We could play inside if we liked, very quietly, or read. Or, we went visiting, or had visitors. To my sister and me, Sunday was a long and boring day. No shops were open, it was as if the world was taking a rest, like God did when he made the world in six days and rested on the seventh.

All went along as usual, until the day Mrs Appleby became ill. I heard whispered conversations between my grandfather and grandmother, until my mother, who couldn't hear whispers, sent my sister and me outside, so we couldn't hear what they were saying. This aroused my curiosity. Not so much my sister's, as she was too young. I finally got hold of my mother when my grandmother went next door. 'What is the matter with Mrs Appleby?' I demanded. 'Is she going to die?'

My mother stared at me, as usually I wouldn't dare ask so bluntly, but I didn't want anybody dying around me, so I stood my ground.

'No, I don't think she's going to die,' she said. 'She trod on a needle, and it's deep into her heel, and it has turned poisonous. They can't get it out.'

'Did she go to the hospital?' I asked. I was a regular visitor to the Children's Hospital for my own health, so the idea wasn't as frightening to me as it had once been. 'Is she too scared to go?'

'No, Christian Scientists don't believe in going to the doctor. They believe that sickness can be cured by prayer.'

'What?' I said. 'How could God get a needle to come out of her foot by people praying?'

'They believe that miracles happen, like in the Bible. The people from their church have been around at their house praying all this week.'

'Well, if it works, I want to go to their church, and they can pray for my chest, and my eyes. I hate wearing glasses.'

My mother sent me outside to play again.

The next day, I heard that Mrs Appleby had been persuaded to go to a doctor, who had taken the needle out of her foot, and given her penicillin for the poison. I saw her later on in the week, with her foot bandaged and up on a cushion on a chair, when I was sent into their house with some scones for her.

I don't know who persuaded her, unless it was my grandmother, and she wouldn't say if it was her, as they always did good deeds like in the Bible, telling nobody.

My mother told me that she had been persuaded that God wouldn't want her to die just because she had stepped on a needle, and that doctors and medicines came from God too.

Well, I was glad I wasn't a Christian Scientist by then, and I didn't bother asking again whether we could change churches.

© Shirley Henwood

**

Shirley writes for Bonzer! magazine. Please visit www.bonzer.org.au