Because my father was baptized in 1963, more than 30 years ago, it might not seem too unusual that all three of his daughters were serving missions at the beginning of 1993. But those simple facts don’t tell the real story.
Although my father, Ignacio Beruben, was baptized as a young man, he drifted away from the Church. Later, he married a Catholic girl named Esther Modad, and in time, they had three daughters and a son. I am the third of those children.
Growing up in Guadalajara, Mexico, I often heard talk about the “Mormons” but never knew much about them. One day a friend told me that the real name of the Mormon church is The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. What a lovely name, I thought. It gave me a beautiful feeling, and for days I kept hearing it in my head.
When I spoke to my father about my interest in the Church, he invited me and my brother, Ignacio, to go to a Church meeting with him—his first after many years. How well I remember the services held that day! I even remember the music that was sung. I especially remember the feeling of love that radiated from my father. When the meeting was over, I told him I wanted to hear the missionary discussions. Two missionaries arranged to meet with my brother and me the next Tuesday.
When I told my mother about the meeting, she replied, “Think it over carefully. Changing religions is not a game.” But I was sincerely—even desperately—seeking the truth. I had attended meetings of other religious denominations, but never in any of them had I felt the beautiful spirit I had felt in that meeting with my father.
From the very first discussion, I knew I had found what I was looking for. When the missionaries asked me if I would be baptized, I said yes without hesitation. When they asked me to pray, I felt the Holy Ghost confirm my decision.
On 29 April 1990, Ignacio and I went down into the waters of baptism. What a clean, pure feeling I had! What a sensation of spiritual freshness! My heart felt as if it would explode with joy. As I came out of the water, the first people I saw were my parents. They were holding hands and had tears in their eyes. From that day, blessings began to be poured out upon our family. Mama was baptized, then my sister Claudia, and finally my oldest sister, Labibe. On 23 July 1991, our family was sealed together in the house of the Lord. It was the most beautiful experience of our lives.
In June 1992, my sister Labibe received a call to the Mexico Monterrey North Mission. In November, Claudia submitted papers for missionary service and was called to the Mexico Veracruz Mission. Although I was not old enough to serve full time, beginning in December, I was called to serve a three-month mission in the city of Manzanillo. And so, as 1993 began, all three of my father’s daughters were serving the Lord as missionaries. My sisters and I wrote to each other frequently, expressing our happiness in the work we were doing.
How we three sisters came to be serving missions is a miracle. But it is the kind of miracle that occurs again and again among the Saints. The Lord provides a way for each of us to find the right path—or to return to it. I am filled with gratitude for my father. Because he chose the right path more than 30 years ago—and then returned to it after losing his way—I am part of an eternal family today.
I am grateful for the plan of salvation and for the Savior, Jesus Christ, who came to earth to save us. If we give our best efforts, through the grace of God we can one day hear his voice inviting us to sit at his right hand. We can enter into a fulness of joy and be part of our Heavenly Father’s eternal family—together forever.