When my children were babies, they were kidnapped and until they were grown, I never knew where to find them. I am only sharing this, so you will see that God does bless us and when we do what is right, He gives us our hearts desires.
The photograph you see was not sent to me until after my father died and my step-sister had compassion and sent it to me. This is the way I want to remember them. I have only seen my son twice since he was stolen at two weeks old. My daughter was only a year and a few month that November in 1965 and the next time I saw her was in December 1989.
When I was set apart to become a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day-saints, I was given a blessing. For those of you who do not know what a blessing is: it is a gift from our Father in Heaven to those whom love Him, honor Him and will do what He has asked of them.
In the blessing I was promised if I served a faithful mission, I would be reunited with my family. At that time, I thought, “He has not clue what he is promising me.” Yet, in my heart, I knew that God never lies, so I moved forward.
Two weeks prior to my mission ending, I received a telephone call from a young man who claimed to be my son. I hung up on him. A few minutes later the phone rang again. I again hung up on him. I felt that perhaps a member of my family was trying to cause me grief, so I told my companion that if he called again, she needed to answer the phone. It did, and she did.
Soon, she came into the room and said, “Sister King, I think you need to talk to this person.” I took the receiver and began to ask questions. He had all the right answers, and I felt in my heart it was not a bad joke, but rather he was in deed my precious Phillip.
Unbeknownst to me, he was part of a group of those who dislike people of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day-saints. He had been lied to so much by my family, that he hated me. I was told that his sister was with him, and he wanted me to meet his new girl friend. I explained I still had two weeks of my mission to go, but when it was over I would come as quickly as I could. He said, “Then forget it. If you can’t come now, then I don’t want to see you.” I begged him to allow me to talk to my mission president and try to work something out. He agreed, and after we hung up I wept bitterly. I knew that if I went, I would be breaking my mission rules, yet I also knew that if I did not go I might never see my son.
To make a long story short, I did obtain permission as well as was supported in my struggles by all those who knew what I was going through. My own companion could not come with me, however a Family History sister had relatives who lived in that city and she made arrangements for us to stay in their home while there. We got to the bus depot in that city only to learn that he had changed his mind and did not want to see me. After we went to her family’s home, she called him and I have no clue what she said, but he said I could come, but only if I came alone.
I broke mission rules again and went alone. I was surrounded by those whom hated me. I was mocked, taunted, spit upon and forced to listen while I was called names and my religion was mocked. Finally, my son had pity upon me. He leaned over, touched my hand and said, “I need to get you out of her before you get hurt.” He nodded to the man who had picked me up and told him to take me back to where I had been picked up. Just as I got to the front door, I turned, and grabbed my son and hugged him. I looked towards my daughter who backed up so I could not touch her. Then, I left.
In my heart, I feel that if I had not broken mission rules and gone alone, we perhaps would have had a much happier ending to this reunion. Nonetheless, I returned to the mission field and finished my mission. I later learned that if I had been patient, my mission president would have sent for my children and we could have been reunited on Temple Square. That never happened, and I am not sure they would have even come.
Even though my children and I are not in touch, I continue to pray that somehow they forgave me for those things they think I did. I pray that they have come to know Jesus Christ and accepted the Gospel plan. I pray that they married and have families which are sealed to them for all eternity. I know that somehow Father will make all things work for their good.
The photograph was taken at my birth-father’s house to celebrate both birthdays. August 10th and November 3rd. I miss them, but yet I never knew them. I wish they could have known me, but that never happened either. Her 3rd birthday, his 2nd. It is the first I can see that they had something I never had. Happy birthday my loved ones. Happy birthday.