“Blessed for Fasting,” Liahona, Oct. 1999, 46–48
I was baptized in Mexico on 26 June 1976 with my son Carlos León, whom we call Kali. We quickly became accustomed to the many principles of our new faith and desired to participate fully.
I remember well our first fast Sunday. My daughter Jovita, who was already a member of the Church, explained what we should do. We were to go without food or drink for two consecutive meals in a spirit of prayer. In return the Lord promised to bless our family.
Around 11:00 A.M. that day, Kali climbed to the roof of the house—about nine meters above the ground—with his younger brother. While lying on the roof, peeking over the edge, he fell. Halfway down, he grabbed some power lines and started to swing. But feeling his hands burning, he let go and landed on the sidewalk.
Although others immediately ran to help him, I could not run, cry out, or do anything. The only thing I could manage was to fall on my knees and pray with all the strength of my soul. I remember saying, “My son! Father, let Thy will be done.”
At that moment, I clearly heard a voice say to me, “Nothing has happened to your son; he is alive.” When I felt that clear, soft voice penetrate my whole being, I arose unafraid. I knew it was the Spirit I had heard. I felt calm.
Just as I finished praying, my younger son approached me. “Mama, don’t cry. Nothing has happened to Kali; he is alive,” he said, using the same words I had just heard.
When everything had calmed down and we had comforted Kali and been assured that he was all right, I told him, “God has saved your life.”
We finished our fast that day and gave thanks to God for the miracle that Kali was unharmed.
Kali suffered no lasting effects from his accident. When he was old enough he shared the gospel message as a full-time missionary in the Mexico Mérida Mission.