Aunt Sylvia - Part 6

The following is taken from part of my Great Aunt Sylvia's book, "Victory Through Suffering."  It's her story of how she survived a Japanese Concentration Camp:

(See Previous Accounts)
Aunt Sylvia - Part 5
Aunt Sylvia - Part 4
Aunt Sylvia - Part 3
Aunt Sylvia - Part 2
Aunt Sylvia - Part 1

Walk With Me

When Saw We Thee a Stranger

Another of the Lord's blessings was that we had no light.  Since it was dark early, we retired early.  After I had Bible hour with the children, I said, "Now you tell Mother a story."
Mark said, "I can't tell you a story."
I answered, "You can't tell a story like Mother can, but you can tell it like Mark can."
Thus they learned more in telling the story than in hearing it.  By the time they were out of camp they could tell the Bible stories and their applications.  They were a help in their Sunday School class in their home church.

Continually threatened by death, made eternity real to them.  People were dying every day in camp.  I always tried to make the way of salvation very clear, letting them make their own decisions.  I never pressed for a decision or told them they were saved.  Finally, I realized they were sure of their own salvation and the importance of it.
Overhearing my conversations when I said, "the most important thing is...."
Paul often interrupted, "...to know you are saved. Then it does not matter what happens."
How true that is!  One day a lady coming back from visiting the sick asked, "What good is it to visit the sick?  They are not interested in camp conversations."
Turning to the boys, I asked them, "What would you talk to them about?"
Paul replied, "I would talk to them about Jesus.  Then if they are really saved it does not matter if they die."

Another miracle in camp was the tomato plants.  They were plants I found in a ditch while weeding the field.  They were not large, flowering plants but I trusted they would yet transplant.  I dug up the ground with a table knife.  We planted and watered with prayer.  They grew higher than my head.  We expected God to work a miracle, and He did!  The first little one we divided.  It tasted so good, as we had not eaten tomatoes for so long.

We had no medicines or hospital but only rooms set aside to keep the sick.  A dear sister in the Lord was there very ill.  She craved fruit.  About that time, we had been studying with the boys about giving to the Lord.
Mark asked, "How can we give to the Lord in this camp?"
I told him that if we gave to [others], it was as though we gave to Him,
"If ye have done it unto the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto Me."
I asked them if they would like to give a tomato to this friend, Miss DeVries.
"Oh, yes!" they chimed joyfully.

The boys were so happy as they visited her that evening.  They carried the precious tomato (a wonderful gift in those days) and offered it with radiant faces to the suffering one with these words, "We give you this in the name of the Lord."
Thus given by His little servants and graciously accepted by Miss De Vries, It was a testimony throughout the hospital room.  She said she could hardly eat such a precious gift.

Shortly after, we were again taking a tomato to Miss DeVries and I suggested to the boys that we first visit a dear mother who was dying.  I stopped to talk with her but she was too far gone to talk of eternal things.  Then I asked her if she would like a tomato.  She did not seem to hear.  However, it must have registered in her mind, for later when she rallied a bit, she asked, "Do you have a tomato?"
I told her we had one for her.  She asked to see it.  Mark brought it in to her.  She took it gratefully.  Later, the nurse prepared it for her.  It was the last thing she ate before she died.  In such ways, we were able to help a few in their last moments of suffering.

Some would come to buy tomatoes.
We could have bought almost anything with some tomatoes in those days!
I told them, "These tomatoes are the Lord's and I cannot sell them."
The camp was so large I could not share with everyone.
I asked the Lord to lead me where it would be a testimony, especially to the household of faith.  Others who had tomatoes found they were being stolen.  Putting the responsibility on the Lord, I said, "Lord, they are Your tomatoes' for Thy glory.  If they steal, they steal from Thee."
The Lord protected them.  We never missed any of our tomatoes.  We had over 250 from these few plants and were still bearing them when we left camp.  It was such a blessing and joy to the boys to share and expect the Lord to work.  They decided to plant a little garden to be used to give the sick ones.  Each one planted, weeded and watered his own plot.  They proved the joy of sharing:  "It is more blessed to give than to receive."

-Aunt Sylvia

Aunt Sylvia - Part 5

I felt a connection with Aunt Sylvia as she shared in this section some scriptures and principles that are very dear to my own heart.  I look forward to the day I will meet my grandmother's sister.  I feel confident that she smiles from heaven as I read her story and learn from her what real faith looks like.  She inspires me and I'm so thankful she preserved these stories.

The following is taken from part of my Great Aunt Sylvia's book, "Victory Through Suffering."  It's her story of how she survived a Japanese Concentration Camp:

(See Previous Accounts)
Aunt Sylvia - Part 4
Aunt Sylvia - Part 3
Aunt Sylvia - Part 2
Aunt Sylvia - Part 1

Walk With Me

"Precious Lessons in the School of Suffering"

We had not yet reached rock bottom.  As time went on, food came worse.  Three times a day we lined up at the kitchen to get our portion of soup, rice, or "starch" (for such it was).  A tiny piece of meat in soup or half an egg were rare exceptions.  So scarce did food become that snails were a delicacy and had to be obtained by doctor's order.  The waiting list was so long that we must wait our turn for weeks.  At first, we were all reluctant to eat such things, but at last we waited our turn for anything edible.  Symptoms of Beriberi were general throughout the camp.

A few pigs were kept in camp for which food was sent in separately.  Since much of this food was what was being used in our kitchen, we were envious to see the pigs well fed while we were hungry.  We begged for a share of the pig's food but were forbidden.  Like the prodigal son, we would fain have eaten what was brought for the pigs to eat, but no man gave to us.  Many waited by the garbage to get what was left of the pig's food.  We washed it, ate it praying that we be strengthened and not get a disease.  For a long time even after returning to the USA I could not keep the boys from looking in the garbage.  Paul said, "Mama they are throwing away better than we had to eat."  Even clothes and shoes they wanted to rescue for they used to gather old socks and scraps of cloth to keep me supplied with thread.  Old matting or corn husks were final endeavors for shoes.  I told them they need not search garbage, for God had supplied the need.

How many Christians are content to live from the world's garbage cans, rather than coming to the feast at the Lord's bountiful table.  He invites, "come and dine," you may feast at Jesus's table all the time.  How little we appreciate all He has done for us at Calvary!  How far below His bountiful provision we live!  We take from Satan that which he offers as though we were yet is prisoners.  We are ignorant of his defeat at Calvary.  I praise the Lord that through these trials He began to open my eyes to the springs of water, yea the rivers of living water freely offered.  Why do we spend time and effort for "that which satisfies not, (Isaiah 55:2) forsaking the fountain of Living water?"  My cry now is, "let me feast at Jesus's table continually, I shall never thirst again."  Come, drink, be satisfied.

Even in the dire need of food, the boys in a wonderful way learned to take all from the Lord; and in every circumstance to give thanks.  He was dealing with us in love and tenderness.  They took hunger or punishment from the Lord's hand without murmuring.  "Do all things without murmuring: (Phil. 2:15).  When we received food we would pray it would sustain us till we received more, asking that He would multiply it as the loaves and fishes.  Hearing the other children cry for food, the boys said, "the Lord does take care of us, even though we get hungry, He never lets us get too hungry."  What a lesson!  "Not that I speak in respect of want, for I have learned in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.  I know both now to be abased, and I know how to abound; everywhere and in all things I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need." (Phil. 4: 10-12)  What could we do but to keep looking to the Lord knowing He would make a way?

Those precious lives of my little boys were entrusted to me to train for eternity.  I was responsible that they know the way.  My passion was that Christ be formed in them, and manifested in such a manner that if I died they would still meet me again (even if they were left with unbelievers).  But how was I to do it here with a constant hubbub of worldly people?  We were never a minute alone.  We learned the sufficiency of His grace, and to rejoice in trial.  It meant putting the Lord first in everything.  Life was a constant reliance upon God for personal devotions and the children's Bible hour.  Each evening we gathered for our Bible hour, sitting on our mats under the mosquito net, which shut out the consciousness of others.  The Bible became more real to the boys as it was applied to existing trials.

We dare not talk of America or other outside countries.  Nor could we think of horrible conditions around but we could look up and rejoice in our Heavenly Home.  How we scanned the scriptures for all we found about it!  We sang hymns of praise and worship, rejoicing in the Lord Himself.  Heaven became real and eternal things more vital than earthly.  The second coming of the Lord became vivid to the boys.  One time Mark said, "Mother, why doesn't Jesus talk to me like He did to little Samuel?  I listen for Him at night, but He doesn't talk to me."  I responded with a promise, "You keep close to the Lord, and He will talk to you some day too."  Another time he said, "Mother, when is the trumpet to sound, and Jesus come to take us to Heaven:  It is so much better than this place."  Later, when they heard that daddy had gone to heaven they said, "Why can't we go too? "  I tried to tell them that we must stay to tell others how to get there."  The Lord in His mercy helped them to understand these precious truths.

-Aunt Sylvia

Aunt Sylvia - Part 4

The following is taken from part of my Great Aunt Sylvia's book, "Victory Through Suffering."  It's her story of how she survived a Japanese Concentration Camp:

(See Previous Accounts)
Aunt Sylvia - Part 3
Aunt Sylvia - Part 2
Aunt Sylvia - Part 1

Walk With Me

"God Specializes in Things Thought Impossible"

One day there was rumor that the whole camp was to be moved.  All had high hopes it would be to the coast and then home.  The hours of preparations were strenuous as we were allowed only 60 lbs per person.  Finally we were marched to the train where we were crammed in for one day and two nights.  Children dropped with fatigue in the floor or behind our backs on the tiny narrow benches, while mothers perched on the edge and fought sleep to keep the children from being trampled to death.  One never knew when the Japanese would plod through the mass of humanity in search of someone.  At length, in the middle of the night (at about 2 AM) we arrived "somewhere" and were commanded to get off the train immediately, leaving baggage on the train.  our luggage was thrown out in a heap on the ground and brought to the camp later, as a pile of rubbish.  We searched through it trying to find something familiar.

The crowded trucks were whizzed off into the night, and ushered us into the crowded "Bandjir Biru" camp.  There we were given 18 inch space to lay our mat (this was on boards on top of saw horses).  Such an anti-climax after days and nights of intense strain, when we were hoping for the best... it was too great a disappointment.  We could not restrain the tears.  I opened my eyes in our new room with 118 people.  Some rooms had 500 to 700 in one room.  After those terrible weary nights of packing and travel, only His grace could sustain the shock.  One could only say, "How long, Lord, how long?!"

There were five rows of skinny mattresses on boards laid on saw horses.  People were passing in the isles almost continually.  Noise, coughing and talking were incessant day and night.  There was no quietness.  Our main problem was to concentrate sufficiently in this throng to pray and meditate on the Word.  This was our only strength for the day.  He must be first.  Many precious lessons were learned even midst the turmoil.  Our privacy for the family altar was only a mosquito net.  I praise the Lord for the intense interest and desire of the children to learn about God.  Even in this crowded room they were able to learn about the Lord.  even in this crowded room they were able to concentrate.  Their chief concern grew to be the eternal interests.

After a time, it became apparent that this constant strain and confusion began to wear on the children and even on myself.  Dr. Domste insisted that we needed other accommodations if possible.  She suggested the prison cell.  This did not sound very inviting but anything was better than what we had.  Although she made out the order for us, we heard nothing further.  When the day for moving to the cells came, no word had arrived for us.  The lady in charge of our room said there were so many and that it was impossible.  I said nothing but believed the Lord had a plan for us in this impossible situation.  God specializes in things thought impossible. I kept the matter before Him, asking that He be glorified.  About noon on the last moving day, Dr. Domste questioned me, "Why aren't you moving?"  I explained that no word had been given me.  Taking the matter up immediately, she found the cell and told me to move to the on in B-C section.

It did not take long to get moved.  The Lord had heard my prayer.  You will note in the plan, the three sections of cells (50 in each) with a court in the center.  Each cell made for one person, almost 5ft X 6.5ft.  As compared to the large, crowded room, this was a haven of the rest!  Just to look at bare walls instead of a sea of eyes was a relief.  The unceasing din of voices was dimmed.  How I rejoiced for the prison cell!!

Alas, our privacy was short-lived.  Many more people were brought to camp, and it necessitated crowding 4-5 into a cell made for one prisoner.  We had to share our tiny cell with a lady and her boy.  The boys were obliged to sleep on the floor with the lady on the boards above them.  My mat was on the stacked suitcases at the foot of her bed.  The boys had no places except under the bed.  Even to eat, they sat with pan in hand under the edge of the bed while eating or playing.  No wonder they did not know how to sit in a chair when they returned to the United States.

-Aunt Sylvia

Aunt Sylvia - Part 3

The following is taken from part of my Great Aunt Sylvia's book, "Victory Through Suffering."  It's her story of how she survived a Japanese Concentration Camp.

(See Previous Accounts)
Aunt Sylvia - Part 2
Aunt Sylvia - Part 1

Walk With Me

"Necessity: The Mother of Invention"

"We were each ordered to make a garden (39 inches square).  Our court yard had a brick floor, which we had to pull up and dig the soil with a table knife.  Watering it with prayer, I asked that with the Lord's blessing we might be able to eat of the fruit when we needed it most.  The first three tomato plants I planted under my window.  They grew very slowly in an alley with a high cement wall preventing sunlight.  However, when they did start to bear fruit, they did well.  One of them grew higher than I could reach and bore over seventy-five tomatoes.  It still had over twenty unripe ones when I left.  The four plants had over 240 tomatoes.  Encouraged by this, we planted in the garden more tomatoes, celery, and onions from roots all found from the kitchen garbage.  These were all doing well when we had to leave the garden to follow orders to move on to another camp.

Some have asked, 'Were there no joys in camp, no celebration days?'  Ah, yes.  Necessity is the mother of invention and so we were kept busy in times of dire necessity, inventing ideas to keep little hands and minds occupied with other things than the hard and drab circumstances surrounding us.

To entertain the boys, I took little pieces of wood and carved a head, made hands and arms of wire, then dressed them as dolls.  These were the scraps from carpenter work.  Later these ideas grew and they were dressed to imitate Bible characters or foreign costumes.  Some other people suggested I make some gifts for their children.  In this way the Lord enabled me to make a little cash to buy my share of camp rations.  We had to buy for two meals a day.  How marvelously the Lord supplied even from people we did not even know.

One day near Christmas, the boys were asked what they wanted (a very unwise question for camp days) Mark said he wanted a little wagon to carry blocks in .  Paul wanted a 'pikulan man' (a native coolie carrying baskets on a pole over his shoulders).  Now how was anyone to get such things in camp conditions?  The Lord gave me ideas.  I used a small wooden cheese box for the body of the wagon, wires made the staves, from wood I cut the wheels and with a piece of bamboo mat I made a cover.  Out of an old pair of pants I cut and stuffed an elephant to draw the cart.  Mark was delighted with it.  The coolie was more of a problem.  I found a handle of a wire toaster, stuffed it with cotton, then put cloths over that.  Pill boxes and a stick made the burden he carried.  These little surprises in their way made life more endurable for the children.

Perhaps the most difficult problem was the customary birthday cake.  Once I made a cake from grated cassava and baked it in a frying pan.  Another pressed together as cookies.  For candles we used wax on string or tiny injection vials (with drop of oil and string)  What delight it gave even these crude inventions.  They were content and thankful with little favors."

-Aunt Sylvia

Aunt Sylvia - Part 2

The following is taken from part of my Great Aunt Sylvia's book, "Victory Through Suffering."  It's her story of how she survived a Japanese Concentration Camp. I've taken on this project to transfer it over into a digital copy.  My goal is to do this about once a month and I imagine it will take me about 20 posts to cover the full record.
-Alicia

View the first post:
  Aunt Sylvia - Part 1

Walk With Me

"Further Glimpses of Camp Life"

In a few months another 350 prisoners were added to our camp, and we were scarcely settled when we were moved again.  Although some conditions seemed improved.  Yet the ever constant and more crowding living conditions seemed unbearable.

In our new quarters we were in an open room with a bamboo wall for privacy; but there was truly no privacy for conversation or freedom from ears or eyes of other families in the house.  Our daily living habits were often misconstrued and criticised.  Yet as Christians we could not be conformed to the general living conditions around us.  At one time I became ill and was transferred to the hospital room, leaving the boys with one whom I had regarded as our best friend in camp.  During the time she cared for them she taught them much contrary to Christian teaching, which made it very difficult for me when I returned.

Things grew worse and worse until I felt I could endure it no longer.  Since no one could move because there was no vacant place, the Lord Himself was the only One to whom I could turn for the solution to my problem.  I cried unto Him in my distress daring not to talk to anyone about it.  Again, I was brought to the place of rejoicing in the fires, praising Him for who He is and believing that He was working on our behalf, in spite of evident conditions.  Soon afterwards, one of the officials in charge of the office was changed and the Lord led me to approach the new lady.  The Lord gave us favor before her, and I was told she would try another place.  He did this "exceedingly abundantly," and I was given the best place I had ever had in camp.  One of the women in that house was a Christian.  Although she spoke no English, we had a heart fellowship in Christ.  What a blessed relief it was to be alone in one room with the boys again, and not to have the whole house interfering in everything we did.  Truly "the Lord hath His way in the whirlwind and in the storm, and the clouds are the dust of His feet." (Nahum 1:3)

"Scarcity of Food"

About this time the food began to be scarce.  The food was usually inadequate.  We could no longer buy little extras.  The quantity of rice was reduced to about half a cup per day.  We committed it to the Lord to make it like the manna; if we had little or much, it would be sufficient for the present need.  Also the bread was reduced and was of poor quality,  We asked Him to multiply it-- to make it serve as a bite between meals so the stomach was not empty for so long.  We learned "how to abound and to suffer hunger."  The sugar and oil were so scarce it was impossible to keep enough.  I used three cups for six or eight months.  Yet I fried something every day, either rice balls or sago pancakes.  This seemed to be more satisfying than just to boil the food.
People would ask, "How do you make the oil last so long?
How do you fry with so little?
Is it your pan?"
I answered, "It is the Lord, for I can do it with any pan."

It was wonderful how God helped to meet the need.  Many, when given a three days' supply, could not resist temptation, and ate it all in two days.  They had no control over their appetites.  No matter how little the ration was, we felt it best to have it regularly.  Many would come to borrow oil, sugar, or peppers from me.  I prayed that for a testimony and for His name's sake I might be able to help others.  I praise Him for the blessing of sharing the little things in times of dire need.

-Aunt Sylvia

Aunt Sylvia - Part 1

Last night I read from some of the pages of my great-aunt Sylvia's story.  (Sylvia is my grandmother's younger sister, born one year after her in 1909.)  She was taken captive by the Imperial Japanese Army during WWII while serving as a Christian missionary with her husband and two boys in Indonesia.  She was imprisoned from 1942 until 1945.  The copy I have of her story is on thin typed paper. I'll transfer most of it here so I have a second place to keep it.

Today, I discovered a book that has several pages written about my Aunt Sylvia.  Drumbeats That Changed the World  How exciting!

Walk With Me
Faith of My Mothers

"My First Internment"
by, Sylvia Sirag

"In October 1942, the American and British women and children were taken to the Police station to be interned in camp.  The officials who came to our home that morning gave us a few minutes to put things into the suit case and snatch a few things to eat.  I put it all into a large kettle to take to the Police station.  There we sat, many women and children awaiting the Japanese officials.  After waiting till noon we hardly felt like eating the food we had snatched from the house.  Not sensing the gravity of the situation, the children were still quite happy and ate as usual.  Finally, little three-year-old Paul began to sing:  

'Cheer up, cheer up, for Jesus is on the throne,

He will supply all your need from on high,

Cheer up, Cheer up, Cheer up.'

This was the message we needed.  We often act as though He [Christ] is not on the throne.  I praise God for the children who so often have been a blessing to me, even in the midst of terrible circumstances.  We felt the Lord would some way make a way out for us,, and He did:  We were one of the two parties who were permitted to go home after the Japanese officer came.  When we arrived home, we went over to Mr. Ho and found that they had been faithfully praying and believing that we would return.  [The return only lasted a short two months] In December, we were called again to appear at the office for internment.  This time the entire white population of the allied nations was taken.  We had to report with a very limited amount of baggage.  After registration with the officials we were marched down to a large school.  Everyone was scrambling to find a place on the floor to sleep.  Hundreds of us were huddled together in one school for four days.  Then the few men among us were sent to Bogor, the men's camp. [This is when my uncle was taken from her.]  

The Japanese officials informed us that we were under the Imperial army of Japan and that any disobedience would be severely punished.  We were told we were to be sent to Bandoeng.  He did not make it clear that we must do our own cooking, house keeping, etc.  Thus we had no pots or pans.  We were allowed a few minutes to go home to get some warm blankets etc., as it is cold in Bandoeng Hill climate.  

The next day we were marched down to the depot and onto the train.  We were packed on to crowded coaches so close we could hardly move.  Thus we sat for four or five hours traveling.  From thence we were loaded in big buses or trucks and taken to "Camp Karees" in Bandoeng, where there were 8,000 women and children.  This portion of the city was walled with bamboo fence and barbed wire and was well guarded by watch towers of Japanese soldiers.

Arriving tired and hungry after a day of strained travel and waiting, we greatly appreciated food our Heavenly Father had provided through kind friends of the camp.  We had to wait standing on the street until nightfall for the appointment of our room.  Each family was given a room according to the number in the family. This usually meant five to ten families in a house built for one family.  

As no normal kitchen conveniences were available, we all had to cook outdoors on the ground with a cement or clay bucket.  This will give some conception of the difficulties experienced.  

A few months later, an additional 350 women and children were added to the camp which meant being cramped in more crowded quarters.  The Japanese officials adopted the simple plan of marking every third house, requiring it to be vacated and the occupants to find another place to live.  After this procedure had been followed and all had settled in their new quarters, I was astonished when the Japanese came and said, 'Why are you not out?'  Our house had not been marked and no indication given that we were to move but that did not avail.  We were told to be out by 1:00 p.m. or the stuff would be put in the street.  We did not even have a place to go, yet we must pack and move into the yard.  We had to do it ourselves as so many others were moving ad we could not get help.  How bravely my little boys, three and four years, did their share in carrying things to the house we had been directed to down the street.  Beds, chairs, and boxes had to be carried by mother and two tiny boys.  The room was given to accommodate six (2 families).  But there was not room for even our three beds!  Weary and sick at the impossible situation, I wondered what was to be done.  Again our Heavenly Father undertook for His overwrought servants, and before nightfall of this trying day.  accommodation was found for the other family, leaving this room for us."

-Aunt Sylvia

Walk With Me

My two older children leave for Trek this week.  It's an opportunity for them to learn through personal experience a little about the early saints who sacrificed in unspeakable ways to push the work of the restored Gospel forward.  Our youth leaders have encouraged each of the kids attending to represent someone in their family history, find out their stories, and to "walk with them" during this journey.

There are two ancestors of mine who I would love for my son and daughter to "walk with" on their Trek.  The first is my 3rd great-grandfather, William Madison Wall.  Yesterday in church, an older brother from our ward spoke about him.  (William Wall was his great-grandfather.)  This brother and I have known for quite some time that we shared this ancestor and we often greet each other affectionately by "cousin."  As he told the stories, my children recognized that they were hearing their family story too.  It was a treat for us all.

It's kinda funny that here we are, living in the Provo 3rd Ward and this ancestor of mine once served as bishop of the Provo 3rd Ward.  William Wall's life growing up, how he found the gospel, and the incredible work he did to build Zion is very fascinating.  I intend some time to write more about his stories in a future post.

Micah, Chandler, Miriam, Me, and Kaylee with the statue of my 3rd great-grandfather
and my children's 4th great-grandfather looking down on us.
This memorial is in Heber City, Utah.
William Wall was in charge of building the Provo Canyon Road 
that connects Heber City to Utah Valley

A book about Wallsburg, the town named after my 3rd great-grandfather, William M. Wall.

...................

My grandma's sister, Sylvia, is the ancestor I'd love for my daughter to "walk with" on this trek.  Sylvia was one year younger than my grandma and although she never was a member of the church, she had deep faith in God and a profound love for the Bible.

Last year in the middle of the night, on my son Micah's birthday,  I awoke from a terrible nightmare. I dreamed I was in some sort of a concentration camp with him and he kept asking where the rest of our family was.  I didn't know but I promised him that we would be reunited soon.  He curled up on the ground and shivered from fear.  There was a chill in the air as dark ominous clouds loomed toward us.  In an attempt to calm him, I wrapped my entire body around his and hugged as tight as I could until I could feel his shivering stop.  In comforting words I said, "Micah, it's going to be alright.  Remember what I have always told you! 'There are a million ways to die and only one way to live'... We have followed that 'one way' to live and we will be okay.  We will be okay."

When my parents came to visit later that day for his birthday, I told my mom about my strange dream.  She responded, "Did you know my aunt was in a concentration camp with her two sons?"
"What?  Really? When!?
"During World War 2... she and her husband went as Christian missionaries to the Dutch East Indies (which is now Indonesia)  and they were taken captive by the Japanese Imperial Army.  She and her two sons survived.  Tragically, her husband did not."

Yesterday, my mom brought over a copy of my Aunt Sylvia's story.  I was so excited to finally have her words in my hands!  "She illustrated this picture on the front," my mom said pointing to the cover page.  "She was an artist like you."
Wow, what a treasure, I thought to myself.  I've read a few chapters already since yesterday and I plan to use these stories for our family home evening lesson tonight.  I will share more about her too in my future posts.

Photo from one of the men's concentration camps. 

Photo from one of the women and children's concentration camps.

As we come to learn more about the journeys of those who have gone before,
We in a sense "walk with them."
And I know that someday... as we look back on our own journey,
We will realize just how often they were literally "walking with us."

-Alicia