Dieter F. Uchtdorf - Sister Eternal

To my beloved grandchildren: Daniel, Patrick, Eric, Jasmin, and Robin

Dieter F. Uchtdorf

For my wife, Connie, with love. Thank you.

Ben Sowards

W hen I think of the people who have shaped my life, I am deeply grateful for the wonderful influence of faithful daughters of God. An experience in my early childhood with one such woman put our family on a course that will have eternal consequences.

T oward the end of World War II, my father was drafted into the German army and sent to the western front of the war, leaving my mother alone to care for our family. As the fighting moved from Russia toward our town in Czechoslovakia, we heard rumors about terrible things being suffered by those in the way of the advancing armies. My mother decided we should flee to Germany, where her parents were living.

W e were on one of the last refugee trains heading westward, and the journey, which normally would have taken one or two days, took us almost two weeks. During that time, we were cold and hungry and afraid. We were in a war zone, and the train was often stopped due to attacking aircraft or blocked railroad tracks.

A long the way, kind people brought food and other supplies to the stations where we stopped. One night my mother stepped out of the passenger car to try to find some food for her four children. When she returned, to her great horror, the train with her children on it was gone!

F rantic with worry, she prayed on the deserted track for heavenly help. After praying, she felt to search all around the large train station. Finally, to her relief, she found our train, which had been moved to another track after she stepped out to gather food for us. We were grateful to have felt Gods protection and guidance to keep our family together when so many others were separated from their loved ones.

U nder the determined leadership of my mother, we reached her hometown and were reunited with her parents in Zwickau, East Germany. There were frequent nighttime air raids at the time, and I recall going to a bomb shelter on a hill, some distance from our home. Those hurried walks were often illuminated by what we children called Christmas Treesglowing bombs dropped in advance of the attackers to help them see their targets. We always felt joy when we returned after a raid to find our house still standing.

D uring those dark and dangerous times it was a constant challenge to find basic needs such as food, clothing, and shelter. Standing in long lines, waiting for food or coal, was part of everyday life. Whenever we heard that something might be available, a member of the family would get in line as a placeholder, not knowing for certain what kind of goods might be offered.

O ne day, my grandmother, Auguste Opelt, was standing in such a line, and as usual she was talking with the person next to her. That day, that person was a friendly, elderly, white-haired lady who invited my grandmother to come with her to her church services on Sunday.

M y grandmother was a Lutheran, but she had always been interested in religion and had even explored some other churches. She immediately liked this kindly woman who identified herself as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and who spoke so openly and confidently about her religion.