"In My Own Time and

My Own Way"

Those were the words of  my Counselor.   I was being gently but firmly admonished by Jesus Christ while standing in the Olathe Branch baptismal font painting a mural of Him.

I’d been away from church attendance for about three years and a new leadership had just been sent from headquarters, a Seventy, in hopes to build up the area, and a new church building.  It was because of this change that God called me back through painting, but I was responding slowly.  I didn’t trust them anymore.  


The outgoing pastor was an influential elder who was a long time member, and one of the founders of the congregation. We were outsiders sent to Olathe to raise our deaf daughter in the State School for the Deaf, and we were different. Our family could feel great opposition but didn’t know why. Since it was normal for us, we waded through it. Then one day a member was visiting in our home and told me that the pastor was greeting every new member with the warning to avoid the Harringtons because they carried the spirit of the devil.

I was shocked, hurt, and weary of it all. I told God that until he changed the heart of this man, I wasn’t going to return to church. God honored that prayer and changed his heart, literally. He underwent open heart surgery and came out the better for it. In the meantime, he and his family had moved across the state where they continued a ministry there.

Then the Spirit urged me to return to church. I went with apprehension. On one of those first Sundays back I sketched a design for a mural on the back of a church bulletin. I’d never painted anything this large before, but felt encouraged to show this to the elder who was presiding that day. To my surprise, God had prepared the way. The elder said that as he sat there looking over the congregation the Spirit focused his attention on me, and told him that I was to paint a mural on the baptismal font wall. We both took this testimony to the Seventy, now presiding pastor, and he agreed with it. I began painting, received the above admonition, and slowly returned to the fellowship of the Saints.

The Seventy is an honorable man, who, in the few years he worked in the area, was able to build up the congregation, move them into a new building, and set them on their own. Sadly enough, they couldn’t wait to take over the leadership from him, and Satan gradually took control again through faithless elders who had little experience in direct communication with the Lord. I was told to pray for them. I did. Several years later we left the congregation.

When You Can Forgive

I asked the Lord for insight about the North Country, the hidden saints Joseph Smith referred to, and of whom Jeremiah testified.1 

The Apocrypha2 tells us they are a group of people who were taken captive by Assyria in 700 B.C. A few of them determined to go off by themselves to a place no man knew about, guided by the Lord, and there keep the commandments of God.3 The Lord held back the waters of the sea as He did for Moses until they passed over. They traveled for a year and a half. No one knew they left, nor could any follow them. They’ve been hidden for almost 2,800 years, and the prophecy says that in the end time, God is going to hold back the water again and bring the righteous out to Zion.

This story fascinated me, and I wanted to have a testimony about the North Country. Several old-time missionaries and saints had knowledge of this hidden land, and three of them I knew personally. The Spirit told me that when I could overcome my ill will toward the elder-pastor who had wronged me, then He would give me this testimony. I forgot about that promise as ten years passed. Then one night I was taken in a dream to that land and when, in the dream, I realized where I was, I cried, because I remembered the promise God made me, and I had indeed forgiven the elder.

It happened in the following way. I was seated with the choir that Sunday, and to my surprise, this elder walked up to the pulpit to deliver the sermon. He’d recovered from his operation and was doing fine. I felt no ill will toward him, but thought nothing of it, for a long time had passed, and time has a way of dulling the senses to pain. During his sermon there was a disturbance in the foyer, and he stopped as if listening for something. Then he looked over toward his wife and said, “Mother, I think someone needs your help.” She got up, walked out to the foyer, and assisted her grown son who was having an epileptic seizure. The elder continued his sermon. He apologized to the entire congregation for any offending he might have done.

My heart went out to him, and never an ill thought about him entered my mind again. I prayed for him in compassion. And to this day it brings tears to my eyes when I think of what he must have been suffering as a loving father, for truly this man had the capability of great love for his family and others around him. I’m sorry we couldn’t have been better friends. I had forgiven him, and God was forgiving me for my anger toward him, giving me what He promised—a testimony that there are indeed a hidden people. How exciting!

Return To The North Land

I returned a second time to that land in a dream, and God revealed several facts about it to me. My testimony is that these people do exist, and the scripture will fulfill, in the Doctrine and Covenants, which prophesies the waters will be driven back into the north. Then these people will come to Zion with their rich treasures.4

In the first dream I was taken to the home of a young man and his sister. As we sat in their kitchen and talked, I asked them why I’d been brought up there and allowed to know about them. They told me their people had held a conference discussing the issue of whether they should reveal themselves to our people. He said the youth wanted to open up communication with us, but the older ones didn’t. The youth won by vote, and so the testimony of their existence was to be continued. He said there were avenues through which their people are mingling with our people, but we don’t know who they are. The saying, “Truth is stranger that fiction,” is not a cliché. It’s the truth.

Some of the information I received from the two dreams was that these hidden people have advanced technology over us, they use natural gas for some things, they have musical instruments. I saw a grand piano and other equipment. And they have the Church of the Firstborn.

Brother Jesse Holsworth was taken up there by an angel and went into the house of the prophet of their church. He described their streets and sidewalks, and the construction of the homes. He saw they have our Book of Mormon and Doctrine and Covenants, as well as the Bible and their own record. Their Prophet told Brother Holsworth that not all the people up there belong to the church, nor want to come to Zion when it is redeemed.

I, too, saw this unrighteousness, for I was standing on a street corner looking at the street signs, which I couldn’t read because they were in a foreign language, when I was approached by two teenage boys. I asked them for directions, or “Where was I?” and they laughingly replied that I was a “Gypsy.” I felt a haughty, ornery spirit with them, so hurried on by them. But the word, “Gypsy,” meant “wanderer” to me.

Years later I read a testimony where the Three Nephites called themselves, “Peripatetic,” meaning “wanderers.”5 The importance of this is that during a stressful time, an elder not personally known to me, had a vision that I was walking with three Indians--a chief and two braves. He saw me walking alone, downtrodden, and then they came to protect me. The chief, in full headdress, walked behind me, and the two braves walked in front. I was sheltered between them, and we walked together till we were out of sight.

I told the vision to Elder Hubert Case, whom I trusted as a man of God. He studied for a second, then said, “Well, sister, the Three Nephites are Indians.” And well he should know, for Brother Hubert sat for hours in a vision where he and the Three Nephites were walking among the people in this North Country.

While I was there in the North Country, I was taken over a seashore and saw a man swimming on a surfboard below me. I could see a reef, and off to the left was a high bluff lined with houses painted in pastel colors. This land is very real, and these people will come out when the earth quakes. Those wicked in that land who don’t believe in the concept of Zion, who refuse to follow the prophets of God, will be left behind to drown when the flood waters come in.

I understood that the saints in this hidden land are also going through persecution. It has to be so. We are the children of the Christ. If we follow Him, we walk where He steps, and it’s through the rough, narrow way, always upward—the way of sorrows.

This civilization nearly 2,800 years old must have some interesting history—a rich treasure to bring and share with us. And to my delight, when I read the testimony of Admiral Richard Byrd.7 who purportedly was taken to this north land--that he described a tall, blond people, I was overjoyed. The young man who escorted me to the hidden land in my first vision was very tall, and blond.

The message the Spirit conveyed to me through this whole experience was that when I could forgive others, rich blessings would be mine— that if we could see into the lives of those who hurt us (the pastor in this case), if we have any compassion at all, we would pray for them, and cry over their hurts, regardless of how they have hurt us.

I had a work to do for God. He made that plain, but it had to be done in His own time and way, not mine. I needed to learn to be at peace and stop trying to do it my way. Then things would go smoothly. During that time I could have walked away, but I would have been the loser, for I’d made a promise on the other side. God had too, and He was holding up His end. He promised to help me through the maze until I accomplished the assigned work.

Before moving to Olathe I was shown that promise in a parable. I dreamed I was high on a hill and had to go down to do a work. I carried an empty bushel basket in which I was going to gather hazelnuts. I set out on my assignment and, arriving at the destination, saw before me two large hazelnut trees. There were many nuts on the trees and I proceeded to pull them off. They were green and not ready; the time wasn’t right. They remained on the tree. I discovered I must wait on God. Then He blew through the trees and many nuts fell to the ground, ripened and ready to be gathered. I picked some up, and reached down in the gutter for a handful which had fallen in the slime. As I lifted them, the slime or mud fell away and they were clean in my hand. I put them in the basket.

Beyond the trees was a house in which a little boy lived. He had a pet elephant at his command. When he discovered I was gathering the nuts, he sent the elephant after me. As it hurried forward, I looked it straight in the eyes and said, “You know by whose Spirit I work.” It stopped and refused to take another step forward. The little boy became infuriated, and headed for me himself. I saw him coming and rapidly gathered a basket full heaping over the brim and scurried off to take my harvest back from where I had started.


Knowing I had this work to do made it difficult, yet I’d seen the elephant charging me, and should have simply taken it in stride. I was growing. He showed me in a dream just how much He’d given me to share with people. When the opposition was to the point I wanted to walk away in disgust, I had to make a decision. God will not take away our agency. Jesus had the same choices to make. In the Garden of Gethsemane he cried out asking God not to require Him to go through this, but gave His will over to God. He died for us, knowing how important it was that he gave His life. If He hadn’t, Satan would have won. We all have this choice to make—to choose God’s will, or our own.

When I walked through this period of choosing, I had another dream. I was in a room bare of anything except a huge side of beef, dressed and ready to divide among the people. Another person was in the room and left when I entered.

The Spirit impressed me that that beef belonged to me. I knew I could leave and take it with me—the choice was mine—but as I looked on it, I thought of all the people it could feed. I determined not to leave with it.

I awoke knowing the gifts God had given me would some day feed the hungry, not milk, but meat. It was after that, as I was standing in the font painting, that Jesus said to me, “I have sent you here to minister to My people, but it must be in My own time and in My own way.” WB01520_.gif (489 bytes)

About the Mural
When the church was sold to a Protestant group, they covered over the mural with sheet rock.

1. Jer. 16:14-15
2. Apocrypha, II Esdras 13, starting with vs. 29 on. Esdras is the prophet Ezra in the Bible.
3. This transplanting is the same as the Jaredites from
Babylon in 2,200 B.C.; and the Muelikites, and Lehi’s family both sent from Jerusalem to America around 600 B.C.
4. D&C 108:5-6
5. FRAA The Witness, Dec. 1986

Admiral Byrd's account can be obtained on the Internet. His grandson (purportedly) has the Admiral's diary stating the Admiral was bound to silence by this "monstrous military industrial complex," but on his death bed he had to tell his story and break the chain of lies being fed to us. His son, who tried to press the issue and bring this message forward after his father's death, was found dead when undertaking this effort. His mysterious death only lends credence to the story, causing one to wonder what's going on. And now his grandson who claims to have his grandfather's diary, is wanting to share this information. It involves UFOs and a hidden people in the north. This is RLDS beliefs (a hidden people), but I'm sure the Byrd family have no connection with RLDS members to have knowledge of it. The Internet address is http://execpc.com/vjentpr/byrdiar.html