[MUSIC PLAYING] The relationship that my mom and my dad had was a beautiful one. She said my dad was a very loving man, very caring, very polite. And he used to help her with the chores. And that just tells you how special she was to him. As a founder of the local Black Chamber of Commerce, John Mavimbela was one of the most successful businessman in his community, not to mention a beloved husband and father. But on the night of June 19, 1955, while driving home from work, he was struck by an oncoming vehicle. My uncle took me along to the accident site. The car was full of blood. Then one of my aunts then said to me, God has taken your father. You won't see him again.

In 1955, South Africa was a racially divided under a series of laws known as apartheid. For the Mavimbelas, John's death was more than a personal tragedy. The investigation that followed was a reminder that under apartheid, Black people couldn't count on being treated fairly. It was quite apparent for any observer that my husband's car had been smashed into his side of the road, but the blame was placed on my dead husband. All this worked together to make me a very bitter woman. It coincided with a time when there was bitterness throughout the country. And I'm sorry to admit, it became difficult to accept my white friends. My mother was hurt beyond description. She had us as little kids, and she still had a baby to be born after the death of my father. And she was alone. On my father's tombstone, she wrote, "The lump remains," meaning that the intensity of the pain she experienced remains on her throat. Even if she has to forgive, even if she has to mingle with the European people, she still has the pain. The Mavimbelas were not alone in feeling racial injustice as many other South Africans felt similar strain during the period of apartheid. In 1976, these tensions came to a head when peaceful protests in Julia's community of Soweto turned into riots. Soweto became unlike any place we had known. It was as if we were in a battlefield which we had never seen before. The youth were devastated by their situation and the circumstances. Some of their family members had gone into exile. Some had to witness their family members being killed. And they had this hardened hatred.

I was a hater, because I wanted to revenge my father's death.

But I didn't know who was the enemy. I missed my dad. Right up until this day, I still miss him. During this time of rioting and anger, my wound of bitterness was in danger of being reopened. It had been over 20 years since John's death, but I could still feel the pain of that time. I looked at these young people and the way in which they expressed their anger openly. They did not even want to see a white person. I could understand their way of thinking. I knew how it was to feel isolated and confused, but I also knew where I was and that maybe the Lord could use me. She was one woman who looked for an opportunity of how can she go over the lump of that pain, of that bitterness, of that hatred. After securing a few parcels of rejected land, Julia set about teaching the youth of Soweto how to grow organic gardens. She started the gardens because she wished to get the youth involved in making Soweto greener, to make them feel that their surroundings belonged to them, that they are responsible for them and, therefore, will not destroy them. She wished not only to repair the physical damage of the recent riots, but also the mental and moral damage. And her message to the youth was where there was blood stain, a beautiful flower must grow. I used to say when I was planting with them, "Now, look boys and girls. As we see down here, this soil is solid and hard. But if we push a spade or a fork, we will crack it and come out with lumps. Then if we break those lumps and throw in seeds, the seeds grow. Let us dig the soil of bitterness, throw in a seed of love, and see what fruit it can give us." Julia's gardening project attracted attention from both Black and white South Africans. Eventually, the women's group asked her to lead a project to restore a community hall that was in a state of neglect. This event would change the direction of her life. During the times of the riots, there was just a lot of cleaning to be done. And my mom was quite surprised to see two white boys in white shirts cleaning their community hall. And she reached out to them. And they told her that they were the missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It was dangerous at the time to do so, but she invited them to come to the house. I said to her, mom, we're fighting with white people, and you are bringing white people into the township? And she said, "No, these are different people. They are preaching peace." I said, "But you know what the situation is in the township. Hmm? They are white. Do you want us to have this house burnt down? Do you want to see these guys being killed?" And she said, "No, this--they won't be killed. They are doing God's duty." So that was the reconciliation that started in the house. And it was practiced. I saw it, and I had to accept it. She was introduced to the Church 1981. That's when I was born. And I remember when she told us how the missionaries came. And when they walked in, they saw this picture. And they asked about this man, which is my grandfather. I looked up on the mantel. There was a picture of a man that was put in a place of honor. And so I asked her who the man was. And she very reverently said, "That's my husband, John, and he died." She never got over him dying. She just loved him. As any missionary would, I suggested that we look in the scriptures. And we talked about being baptized for the dead and that she and John could be sealed in the temple together and be together in the eternities. She must have been touched by the Spirit. And she felt it. And she nurtured that feeling that she had, and it just kept on growing. Julia was soon baptized. It was a turning point in what had been a long spiritual journey. As I stepped down into the waters of baptism, I had a feeling that I was passing through a gateway, like a door opening leading me into a new place. I felt cleansed, like a new person with a feeling of forgiveness and gratitude in my heart. And I wanted to share this goodness with everyone. Worshipping with both white and Black members, Julia applied her unique life experience to the task of strengthening the youth and helping the saints become more unified. Julia came in, embraced the gospel, was a great missionary, a gracious lady. Julia could not have been more handpicked had the Lord come down Himself and grabbed her hand and said, "Come on, let's go to Soweto Branch and get going." She was always teaching and training these early young members of the Church in Africa to be the leaders of the Church. She would have kids every day, every single--even on Sundays. And we'd go, like, "But it's just the Sabbath." And she would say, "Yeah, it's the Sabbath; I'm teaching them the gospel." She always told us she loved gardening. And how she related that to us as young men is we're growing up in an environment where people are very hard and difficult. She told us that we need to be soft in our hearts, just like this garden, to make sure that the gospel has a place in us and it stays. You know, I never sensed any bitterness from her. I sensed somebody who was filled with hope for the future, a hope that the gospel will make a difference in the lives of the people, especially in Soweto. Even though we're members of the Church, the suspicion between the races was always something that was there. But with Sister Julia Mavimbela, it was a complete different story. In looking back now as an older man, and know what I know about the race relation in South Africa, that was a great lesson for me to say that you must be able to welcome everybody. Although the end of apartheid was still a decade away, Julia caught a glimpse of the harmony she had been working for in 1985 when she entered the Johannesburg temple for the first time. As I entered the temple, I found myself truly an equal amongst my brothers and sisters. There is no color in God's kingdom. The strength of the gospel in Julia's life did amazing things for her. She said she wanted to be sealed as a family in eternity.

When my mom was sealed to my dad, that was one of the greatest moments of her life. She was no longer on the bitter side, but looking forward that we as a family, all of us, should be together so that we can meet with my dad again. So the lump was replaced by love. The Church is true. And I know Jesus Christ is the head of it, that He holds the truth that help the tensions that are existing in our countries and in our souls. It has changed me from being bitter to love other people. It has made me to understand we are all children of One, and that is our Heavenly Father. [MUSIC PLAYING]