Carlos and María Roig:

“OK, I’ve listened to the missionaries,” Carlos told his wife. “But I don’t want to know more. I don’t believe in it. And I’ll never believe in Joseph Smith!”

Carlos was accustomed to having his own way. A civil engineer, he was well-respected in the professional community, had many important friends, and was a member of several elite social clubs in Asunción, Paraguay.

But through their eight years of marriage, it seemed that María Teresa was continually begging him to give the church one more chance. “I continued crying and arguing with him,” she says. “Then one day, he got tired of it, packed his bags, and left!”

Now she was alone with her three children—alone in the beautiful home Carlos had designed and built himself. And she had plenty of time to think.

In 1961, when she was twelve years old, María Teresa Ambrasath had been baptized, along with her mother and four sisters. They were among the earliest members of the Church in Paraguay. When Carlos Alberto Roig began dating her, she knew he wasn’t LDS. But back then, few eligible young men in Asunción were. Carlos was a polite, good-looking young man with wavy black hair, a good education, and a promising career. María was a pretty blonde of European descent. They were a perfect match. Carlos would drive her to church in his car and would come back afterward to take her home.

After they were married in 1970 and started their family, María remained active in the Church, serving as teacher and president in the ward and stake auxiliaries. “Carlos continued to take us to church and pick us up afterward,” María says. “People would see him and tell me, `Your husband will be a member of the Church someday.’ But he never attended any meetings.”

From the very first of their marriage, María tried to get him interested in the gospel. “Every night, I read Church books to him while he was lying in bed,” she says. “The gospel was so interesting and important to me that I wanted to share it with him. I wanted him to know the things I knew.”

Without realizing it, Carlos started to believe some of the things he was hearing. “I had read so much to him,” she says, “that when we talked about religion with friends, Carlos didn’t know he was giving LDS doctrine; he thought he was talking about his religion.”

But he adamantly resisted the idea of changing religions. Occasionally, because of María’s pleading, he would listen to the missionaries. But nothing would come of it. “I often cried about it when I was alone,” María says, “and we argued continually about it.”

Fortunately, Carlos returned home two days after leaving in that fit of anger. And soon afterward, something happened that changed María’s heart—and her feelings toward her husband.

“We got our first patriarch in Paraguay, and I asked for my patriarchal blessing,” she remembers. “In it, the Lord assured me that if I magnified my callings as wife, mother, and daughter of God—along with my other callings in the Church—everything would be all right. The Lord promised me that He would touch my husband’s heart, and that we would go to the temple and be sealed. I was told to cry no more about it. (How could the patriarch have known that I had spent the entire previous day crying about it?)”

When she told Carlos about her blessing, he scoffed, telling her those things would never happen. “But I had great faith and hope in my patriarchal blessing,” she says. “From that moment, I never again pleaded with him about the Church. Instead, I began to do what my patriarchal blessing told me to do.”

She made her home a lovely, happy place, trying to be a good example of what she believed. She kept the Sabbath day holy, fulfilled her Church callings, and took the children with her to the meetings and activities. “I fasted and prayed for Carlos,” she says. “The children and I held family home evenings, always inviting him to join us. In family prayer, we prayed that someday he would accept the gospel. But when it was Carlos’s turn to pray, he would ask the Lord to never let him lose his own faith or stray from his own church!”

María was also preparing Carlos for the day when he would begin to pay his tithing. “I asked him to give me 10 percent of his extra income. Then I paid my tithing with it. I was helping him get used to living without the 10 percent.”

One Thursday morning, while preparing breakfast, María had a strong feeling that she should fast and pray that Carlos would listen to the missionaries again. “At that very moment, I began my fast,” she says.

Amazingly, two missionaries dropped in for a visit that afternoon. “It had been a long time since missionaries had come to our home,” she says. “I told them I was fasting that very day for Carlos. They said, ‘Sister, we will fast with you. And we are going to baptize your husband! When can we come back?’”

María asked them to return the following Monday evening, because that was the only day Carlos didn’t go to one of his clubs after work. On Monday, she and the two missionaries began another fast. She hadn’t told Carlos anything about the appointment she had made.

When Carlos came home from work that day, he announced that he was going to the club to play tennis. “I felt so disillusioned?” says María. “He never played tennis on Mondays. And I was sure he wouldn’t return until very late. I didn’t know how to ask him to stay. So he went.”

At 6:30 P.M., the missionaries came. Crying with embarrassment and disappointment, María explained that Carlos wasn’t home. “We are fasting for him!” she said. “How could it have turned out this way?”

Meanwhile, the person Carlos had arranged to play tennis with didn’t show up. And neither did anybody else! “There was nobody to play with,” he remembers. “It was very strange. So I went home.”

The missionaries were still there—and, for some reason, Carlos felt like talking to them. That started six months of serious studying.

It was a difficult six months. “When the missionaries were teaching him,” María says, “the Spirit was there. But when they left, the Spirit seemed to leave—and Carlos was left to himself. I fasted for him often.”

“A Uruguayan elder who taught me had a character just like mine,” says Carlos. “We had lots of discussions. I would ask hard questions, he would answer me, and I would try to refute him. I enjoyed discussing the gospel like that. I wanted the direct message, and he helped clarify lots of things.

“Then I decided to do my part and see what would happen,” he says. “I stopped smoking—I used to smoke two packs of cigarettes a day. I stopped drinking. I bought some Catholic books, studied them all, and talked with my uncle who was a Catholic priest. Then I got a book about LDS Church history.” He took some time off work, hoping to find a quiet place to study and meditate.

Then, as if on cue, a relative called and offered the Roigs the use of her house for two weeks—a quiet place in the country. It was just the retreat he needed. “I sat down and read and prayed,” says Carlos. “I read the history and the doctrine. By that time, I had already accepted the fact that this must be true. I just needed to make the decision.

“But there was something within me that was keeping me from it. I wondered what the problem was. One night in my bedroom, I had the Bible and Book of Mormon open. And I found a scripture that says that if we want to come to the Lord, we must ask forgiveness from those we’ve offended. (See 3 Ne. 12:23–24.) That scripture really made me think. Whom had I offended?”

Suddenly, he knew what he had to do. “There was something in my life that I needed to confess and repent of. But because of my fear of losing my family and losing everything, I had kept it to myself. Now I knew that I would have to repent completely and sincerely. I believed in Christ, and at that moment I was illuminated with the truth that I hadn’t accepted before—that Joseph Smith was a prophet. And I was also illuminated with all that had to do with the gospel. At that moment, my heart broke.

“So I went to my wife and said, `You’re going to cry. And it’s going to be hard.’ I knew in my heart that I could lose everything, including my family. But I couldn’t keep quiet. It was hard, but María accepted my repentance.

“Her understanding, love, and faithfulness have changed everything in me,” he says. “I remembered Saul of Tarsus, who changed totally after the Lord came to him. That’s how it has been with me—a 180-degree change.”

Carlos was baptized soon afterwards, on 14 February 1984. A year later, he and María and their children were sealed in the São Paulo Temple. “My wife’s patriarchal blessing has been fulfilled,” he says.

Another promise was also fulfilled. Years earlier, when Verónica was born, María took her to Church to be blessed. “A missionary told me, ‘When this baby is eight years old, your husband will baptize her.’” Verónica was seven when her dad joined the Church; he baptized her the following year.

Right after his baptism, Carlos was called as a counselor in the Sunday School presidency. Six months later, he became elders quorum president. A year after baptism, he was called to the high council. After another six months, he became bishop. Four years after being baptized, he became president of the Asunción Paraguay Stake. Continuing to serve in that calling, Carlos has now spent more than half of his time in the Church as stake president.

Church membership has brought some sacrifices. “When I was baptized, my father—a military officer—said, `You’re not my son anymore.’ I spoke to him with love and bore my testimony of the Church. But he rejected me and treated me as if I had betrayed my family. And my brothers and sisters distanced themselves from me.”

Carlos’s mother had studied the gospel privately, long before Carlos was baptized. She was converted and had set a baptismal date. “But my father wouldn’t permit it. He told her, ‘If you get baptized, you will never come back.’ So she wasn’t baptized before she died.”

Years later, his father became seriously ill, and Carlos spent many days and nights with him. “Before my father died, a Catholic priest came to do the last rites. But my father said, `I don’t want it. I’m with my son.’ The priest objected, ‘We need to do the prayer.’ But my father said, ‘No, I’m going to do it with Carlos.’ His last words before dying were, ‘Carlos, if I live, my life will change.’ When he said that, I realized that we should do the temple work for him and my mother. And we have done so.”

Carlos and María have five daughters and a son. Carolina is twenty-one and has married Gabriel Cella in the temple. Nathalia is seventeen, Verónica is fourteen, Marcelo is twelve, Sandra is six, and Andrea is four. “I remember those experiences when Dad wasn’t a member of the Church,” says Carolina. “Now, when I see my father, I often get very emotional. I thank my Heavenly Father.”

Nathalia agrees. “When Dad left home angry that day, we cried bitterly. I thought he would never return. We had always had a close family, and mother had always told us we could have an eternal family. So it was hard. But now I see him at the pulpit and giving counsel. It’s a miracle.”

After Sandra was born, the doctor advised María not to have more children. “But we prayed,” says President Roig, “and we both felt that our Father was saying, ‘You can have more.’ When María became pregnant, the doctor said she would lose the baby. But I gave her several priesthood blessings and fasted for her. Andrea was born without any problems. The doctor couldn’t believe it.”

The blessings have continued to multiply. “Every time on of our children was born,” he says, “I received more work in my profession, and my wages increased. My patriarchal blessing says that whatever goods I have, I should use them for the Lord. And the Lord blesses me with much.”

A year after Carlos joined the Church, he and María decided their house was too small for their growing family. So Carlos designed and built a new, larger home. It is beautiful and spacious—with lots of room for children and friends. Nathalia is practicing the piano in the living room. Verónica is doing homework at the dining room table. Marcelo is outside playing with Alfie, their cocker spaniel. And Sandra and Andrea are giving their dolls a party. Guests are treated like family here. A barbecue, a covered patio, a trampoline, and a swimming pool are out back. The garden is full of vegetables, pineapples, and sugar cane. And the trees are heavy with fruit: bananas, oranges, guavas, avocados, and mangos.

Carlos dedicated their home when it was finished. “A spirit of love and happiness reigns here,” he says. “We’re trying to comply with what the Lord wants. And all these things have been added to us, just as the scriptures say.

“These are really unimaginable blessings,” he says. He shudders when he realizes how close he came to losing—or giving up—everything. “I have no time for my social clubs now. Instead, we have our family gatherings. And I give most of my time to the Lord. While I’m driving, I’m thinking about the members of the stake and their problems. There’s lots to do. I wasted forty years of my life. Now I need to give Him my time.”

“Carlos is the best member of the Church I know,” says Sister Roig. “He magnifies his callings, he loves the gospel, and he’s the greatest defender I know of Jesus Christ and Joseph Smith.”