Thirty years before, my first serious romance began when I started dating one of my professors, a handsome, brilliant and brooding man almost twenty years my senior. Then one day he simply failed to appear for a date. He stopped calling, and refused to return calls from me. Although we had agreed I'd not enroll in a class he was teaching, an administrative reorganization the following semester required me to do so. By the end of the class, his constant, sarcastic criticism of my work had turned me into an emotional wreck. After graduation I never saw him again. Later, I found out by chance that throughout the time we had been dating, he had been in a relationship with someone else. That helped me understand, but it didn't take away the hurt and self-condemnation I'd been feeling.

This wasn't the last rough relationship I had.
This wasn't the last rough relationship I had. For a while I made a habit of falling in love with men who did nothing but hurt me. I tacitly accepted the idea that I was deeply wounded. I thought maybe there was something about me that didn't deserve love—and that attitude even spilled over into other areas of my life. When my friend dropped by, it was a particularly stressful time at work. I'd just been in a meeting where angry words flew about the room like poison darts.

After my friend's visit, I thought about this some more. I realized it was time for me to make a few changes. Be it romance, professional activity or family life, the idea that anyone could be turned into a battle-scarred veteran of a heartbroken life struck me as a scenario I didn't need to accept forever. Who said I, or anyone else, had to go through life that way? I thought: I'd really like to wipe the slate clean.

I addressed that desire to God. I'd always thought of God as divine Love, a concept I'd learned from Science and Health. The author Mary Baker Eddy put it this way: "Divine Love always has met and always will meet every human need" (see link below). What was my need now? To learn more about that Love. Would my need be met? It would, if I would only truly count on God.

I turned to him with all my heart.
I turned to Him with all my heart. In those moments of seeking and reaching out and praying, I felt His presence, just as if arms were enfolding me. I knew He had always been there for me—and always would be.

A simple thought comforted me greatly: There is never even an instant when any one of us is outside God's tender care. He keeps us safe and whole all the time. That's the truth, and anything else is a distortion that an acknowledgement of His love heals and dispels. This idea encouraged me to stop seeing myself as a victim—of the past, of other people's actions—and instead, to identify myself fully with God as His beloved daughter.

Now, this doesn't mean challenging things don't happen in the human scene; they did, they do, and they will. What it means is that they don't change anything really important about me and my relationship to God. In His care I can walk through adversity unscathed.

What about that mental baggage?
What about that mental baggage of hopelessness and cynicism parked at my door? It was finally time for spring cleaning! With God's help, I set about replacing it with an affirmation of the ever-ness of His love for me. I filled my thought with light—with gratitude and active appreciation of present good—confident it would dispel the cobwebbed darkness of past unhappiness. As I did so, I felt a progressive and stable sense of peace.

It wasn't too long—only about three days—before I saw some tangible results from the clean-up operation. A quartet of men interrupted one of my morning classes with an impromptu serenade. Then, between afternoon appointments, our secretary brought in a box tied with a huge satin bow. Inside were two dozen of the most beautiful pink roses I'd ever seen, carefully arranged on gorgeous velvet and accompanied by a handmade card. I learned later that a large group of students had pooled their money to surprise me.

I've saved the rose petals—I'll treasure them always—because they symbolize an important lesson. All the while I was embroiled in controversy, at the very same time friends were loving and caring and embracing me in their thoughts. I was safely enfolded in love; I simply didn't realize it.

The same is true of God's love. It was there for me thirty years ago while I was working through an unhappy romance. It's always there for all of us—even when, or maybe especially when—things seem to be at their worst. A knowledge of that fact sheds light that banishes sadness, comforts hearts, and heals all sorts of wounds.

So I'm not "walking wounded" any more. I'm moving forward in His care, safe and pure and satisfied—and free!