Brother Doru

Last week at church we met a very sweet Romanian family. Brother Doru emailed us his testimony and I share it with his permission. What an amazing life story:

The testimony

of

Brother DORU

My mane is Doru. I was born on January 8 in the Moldavivan region of Romania, Romanesti village, Bacau County. It was about 11 o’clock in the morning, a harsh winter day when that happened. At birth I weighted 1.7 kg (about 4 pounds) and even after delivering me, my mother’s belly was still round; it was then, when the midwife realized she was having twins. The ambulance was called but the family was told that, because of heavy snowfall it couldn’t reach the village. After a full day of waiting nervously, my father yoked the cattle and, driving the sleigh, he took us to the hospital into the next village, Tescani. From there the ambulance transported us to Comanesti town. My mother was about to die because the babe was dead in her womb for two days. The twin babe was also a boy and they named him Ioan (John). I’m the third child of a family of five (my parents, Ioan and Eugenia and the children, starting with the eldest Liliana, Ionel, myself, Catalin and Cezar), a family where the love of the parents for their children, faith and the love of God were present. Because of the way we’ve been raised up, of our parents’ examples, our family is still united and we all look forward to family reunions, even though the little birds have left the nest a long time ago. A Romanian tradition says that every man has three main hardships in his live and if he is able to overcame them all, he will live long. With a sad smile on my face I can say that for me, my first hardship came with my birth; the second one happened during the fall of 1972 (by then I was almost 7). Then together with my family, we went to our vineyard to pick grapes. My father yoked the cattle, my family and I, together with my grandmothers, got into the waggon and off we went. On the way to our vineyard, we had to cross through Tazlau River, whose water level grew because of heavy rain, thus becoming whirling and muddy. Many people had told my father not to cross through the river because the waggon would be overturned, but he believed he would make it. Our waggon got into this excavation and did overturn. I was 7 but I still remember the shouts of my dear ones. Taken by the stream I was coming up out of the water noticing around me boards, buckets and other things that were in our waggon. Suddenly I grabbed a hold of a foot – it was my sister’s, Liliana. Though she was doing her best to save herself, I held on to her and so we got out of the water. My brother, Catalin who hadn’t turned 5 yet, grabbed my other brother’s foot, Ionel, and they as well got safely out. I then saw my father running to save his old mother. Trying to get through the water he was suddenly taken under it, but moments after he was at the surface again. He got to my grandmother and took her safely to the river’s bank. He then ran towards the upper part of the river where my mother (7 months pregnant with our youngest brother) was trying to save herself. We were all outside crying. We then nocited that there was someone missing – Maria, my mother’s mother. A few people that happened to witness almost everything said that they'd seen how the water took her, but nobody jumped in to help. My father ran to look for her but he didn't manage to find her. Soon, the people heard about the tragedy and our relatives came to find the person who was missing. We, the kids, were taken to somebody’s home so we could dry ourselves. In the evening one of our uncles took us to our house. Five days later our grandma Maria was found dead some 20 km further down the river. The third big hardship happened when I was about 8; we were playing on a frozen lake when the ice cracked and I fell under it. There were friends that said it was more than a minute until I came out though the same opening. So, this is how I overcame the three traditional hardships. Now I can hope for a longer life.

I was raised in the spirit of prayer, of regularly going to church, the Orthodox Church, and this is why I always felt close to sacred things. I spent my childhood in my native village where I graduated from secondary school during the comunist atheism. I mention this atheism because I want to bring here an unpleasant story that happened when I was in the 3rd grade. Before an inspection, we were given atheism materials and we were instructed into how foolish it is to go to church, how there is no God etc. After being prepared and taught into how to answer questions, the shool inspection group came. We were given some forms and told to fill them out. I was the only one in the classs that mentioned faith, the belief in God and how good it is to go to church. After the forms were checked, I was brought before the class and mocked. But there was joy in my heart because I kept my faith and I didn’t deny the existence of God.

Beginning with the 5th grade I wanted to pursue the military career and I started to learn more so I can make my dream come true. Before graduating secondary school, I went to the Military Committee to enroll into the Military Highschool and have the medical exams done. Two weeks after, I was asked to come back; there I was told that I passed the exams, my grades were good but that I was not accepted into the highschool because I had a brother attending the theology seminar to become a priest and that faith and atheism can’t be in the same family. It was my first disappointment and I wasn't too sure what to choose then.

My math teacher, Ms. Lupu suggested me to go to this industrial highschool in Bacau which I did. And this is how I left home, learning to take care of myself. I finished the 10^th grade and, in order to go on with high school, I had to take an exam. One month before the exam I joined the aircraft mechanics class.

This proved to be a mistake because I didn’t have time to get education in a different field, and so I failed the exam too.

My family encouraged me to turn the papers in for the „Neamt Monastery” Theological Seminary fall exam but, again, I failed the exam because of too many candidates. I decided to prepare better and try again the next year. Studying the Bible my desire to become God's priest became stronger and so I began praying this would happed. But even the second exam to become an orthodox priest was a failure; though I'd been well prepared, I heard that having 'connections' was what counted the most. I said to myself that God did not want me to be a priest, so there I was, turning eighteen, without education and without great hopes for the future.

My last option was to go to a vocational school for a year and a half in order to become a mechanic. After one year of attending school in Moinesti, I was transferred to Bacau where I was taking practical courses in a plant. While in Bacau I took some evening clases in order to graduate from highschool. With some delay, but better later than never, I graduated full of satisfaction from high school before I turned 23, thinking that in the future I would need to attend college. I could not postpone my military service, so I fulfilled it.

One month before finishing the military service, in December 1989, the Romanian revolution started, and I was sent home on January 18, 1990. A new age in the history of our people and in the lives of everyone of us was opening. I worked for one year in the country, but the rumours about better paid work in other countries had an echo in my mind so I started doing business and work in countries like Yugoslavia, Turkey, Poland and other former USSR countries. Getting to know more of the neighbouring nations enriched my life.

In May 1993 together with my brother Cezar I went to Italy where I stayed for several months after which I went by myself to Frace. I don't know exactly what I was looking for… probably a place where I could make more money and return richer into my country. But from up above God was preparing something better for me. It was quite difficult in Paris because I could not find any work to do and I started believing that I should return to Romania. I often heard others talking about the Romanians that they would lock themselves inside a container in order to cross the ocean and get into Canada or USA. And often there were rumours circulating about people who have died because of lack of air or other strange reasons so I said to myself I would never do that. Then, a man called Stefan who has gotten into America in a container, but who was caught and expelled, showed up. He spoke about the things that needed to be done in order to make it and still not risk your life. My desire to see the new world and gain new experience was influenced by the man’s story and I decided to take my chance in this kind of adventure. Pure madness, my dears... Isn’t it so ?

We were five of us that made up the team (2 Moldovans and 3 Olteanians) and started up the preparation getting clothing, food, water and diverse tools. We were in the french town called Le Havre. We would get into the harbour by night and using unorthodox methods (like verifying the merchandise’s shipping documents in order to find the destination) we were checking what was inside of the containers (making sure they didn’t transport any toxic substances such as rubber items, tires). On the 18^th of March 1994 the team I was part of, embarked on this adventurous ship, believing that its destination was Canada and that the stuff it contained (garden plastic chairs and tables) were not toxic. I don’t know what the members of my team thought of, but I thought of God, praying that He would help and protect us during our adventure, for we surely needed that. Saturday, the 19^th of March 1994 our container was loaded onto a small ship lead by a Polish crew. We left the harbour at 7 :00 in the morning and headed towards Felix Town, Great Britain where we got the next morning.

We were unloaded in the harbour and literally covered on the top and on the sides by other containers. It was the toughest part of our adventure, because we were like this for a day and a half; even though we’d drilled some small holes through the walls of the container with the help of an auger so the air could circulate inside andout, we were lacking oxygen and it became more and more difficult for us to breathe. Because of the heat during the day, there were water drops condensing on the ceiling. We learned to check how much oxygen was left by trying to use a lighter. Everyone had one in his pocket. And inside the container there came a time when none of them would ligh up. Our fear was great and we were all praying that our lives would not end in there. We also learned to make what we call cardboard fans and “make wind” in order to force the air circulate inside-out. To our delight we were again loaded up, this time on a much larger ship that left the English harbour on Monday, the 21st of March at 6 p.m.

We were placed on the margin of the ship, last row on the top, and just to have an idea of how big the ship was, we were as if on the last floor on a ten-storey block. Through the small 1 mm holes (made by us using the manual drilling tool) we could admire almost daily the beauty of a still and quiet ocean. I say this beacause for two days we went through a storm and our ship was creaking and swinging as if it was going to sink. The time difference caused us to sleep during the day and wake up at night. One at a time we would tell our life stories, dreams and goals for the future. We were watching the ocean from time to time looking for dry land so we could shout for joy LAND!... LAND ! Just like the Jaredites, Prophet Lehi's family, Christofor Columbus and others. I want to mention here that when I read in the Book of Mormon the chapters about the Jaredites voyage towards the promised land, in those eight airtight ships, I thought we travelled just like they did: The conditions were preety rough: no light, no place we could wash ourselves, instead of restrooms we used bottles and plastic bags, not enough space for five people etc. For food we only brought dry bread, dry salame, biscuits and 8 litres of water each.

From the stories we previously heard, we learned that crossing the ocean to get to Canada should take 8 days the most. We saw some seagulls and were happy because we thought the land is close, but we were wrong (I make a joke here: they were coming from the Romanian coast and were illegally emigrating to Canada too). Starting with the 28^th of March 2004 we probablly were looking through those holes every minute in order to live the great feeling of seeing the dry land, though it seemed to refuse to reveale itself to us. 29^th of March went by and still nothing. The big thing was that we were running out of food, and were only drinking one small lid of water each, three times a day. On the 30^th of March there was still no sign of dry land for the Romanian adventurers. That day, because there was nothing for our stomachs, we decided to break out and get on the ship. We were afraid that we might have mistakenlly read the destination of the container like other teams who, instead of getting to America, they returned into comunism, in Cuba...

Lucky us, though, because on the 31^st of March, before noon, inside our ‘public transportation’, what do you think it was shouted?... Indeed... LAND!... LAND ! How wonderful it was to see the new world, of which we’d heard so many beautiful things. We got closer and our ship was anchored in the harbour. At around 6 in the evening we were taken down by some big cranes and then transported and placed on top of another container somewhere in the huge harbour unknown to us. A vehicle drove by us and had written on it CHARLESTON. We started to panic since we knew it was the same harbour in Florida USA, from which our buddy Stefan, from Paris, was caught by the American coast guards and expelled back to Romania with the same ship he'd reached the continent. When it got dark we started the noisy operation of breaking out from the container.

I forgot to mention that when we got in the container a person from another team locked us up, screwing a screw onto the sealed door handle after the general inspection and before bringing them on the ship. It was more difficult to come out though, because there was nobody at the destination to open the sealed door for us. So we were prepared with manual drilling machines, augers, a chisel and hammer in order to make in the container's iron plate a hole of considerable size, right by the door handle. We would reach out through the hole to open the door.

It took us a few hours and we finally set us free running towards the harbour’s fence. Even though we were quite dizzy because of so much sitting in the dark, we managed to sneek to the fence and jump over inspite of its height and the barbed wire that it was made of. There we were on the street, amongst americans… It was enough for me to look at others to realize how we looked: unshaved, pale and so slim that the wind could blow us down. After walking about a km we got into a store to buy some food, milk and, because we were smokers, cigarretts. Our bodies, not used with the food and milk caused us to have stomachaches because of what we call the "upset stomach" sindrom. This is how we welcomed the first sunrise on the so wished-for continent, on a very significant day for us — April 1^st. It was in our intention to leave the city area so we don’t get into something similar Stefan got. We headed towards the freeway to hitch-hike. This is how we spent the whole day but without any results. In the evening we came back into the city, deciding to go to the train or bus stations. But we learned that the price ticket for the train were too expensive and we concluded it was the same for buses.

We were having dinner by some railway tracks when we noticed that the goods’ trains were slowing down in our area and one of us said let's try take one of those. Suddenly a train showed up, it was already dark, and we started running after it. I yelled: It’s going to fast, we could slip and fall under its wheels an... One of the Moldovans, Mitica, and I stopped. The other three jumped in, taking their chances, and we never saw them again ever since. Later that night we got into a freight train as well but quickly got off from it because it was shunting back and forth and we were afraid it would take us south to Mexico. We gave up the idea of taking the freight train (the container yes, but not the freight train).

A little while after that we found a place to sleep and tried to do so. It was the long trailer of a truck and, before falling asleep, two cops showed up. They switched on their flash lights looking inside the trailer. They were looking for something, and did not see us as if God’s hand protected us so they left to search on in the area. We were scared and after they were at some distance from us, we decided to leave from that place. We walked a bit and found an old car park. That night we slept in a car. We decided to go to Montreal, Canada.

Next morning I went with Mitica to the bus station, bought tickets and left for New York at 10 a.m. It was in the same bus station where we entered a public toilet, washed and shaved for the first time in 3 weeks. Sunday morning, on the 3^rd of April, we arrived to New York, the city with the biggest buildings in the world. It was the Catholic Easter Day. We walked the whole day, admiring "The Twins", Empire State building, Fifth Avenue, parks and cathedrals etc. I regret we didn’t go in Manhatan to see the Statue of Liberty. That night we stayed in a commercial area, an old one, where it was a lot of humidity, and we got wetter more than rest.

Monday morning, on the 4th of April we got onto a bus to get to Philipsburg, a town close to the Canadian border, where we arrived the same day around 22:00. For the first couple of days in America it was very hot, there were plus 27°C; but in Philipsburg, there were bellow 10°C. It was terrible; to be outside, late in the evening, in a strange town, on a freezing cold. I said: Mitica! They are going to find us in the morning, froze to death. What are we going to do? We looked and found a minivan that was open and tried to sleep inside of it, covering ourselves with the rug on the floor. It was tough night... believe me! In the morning, half frozen, we decided to walk on the side of the road and hitchhike. Someone took us close to the border. Then we walked about 15 km (10 miles) through deep snow for a few hours. We were not walking on the road but through the woods, so the police would not see us. When hearing helicopters above us we would get on the ground and sit still. We saw from far way the American and Canadian check-points and after walking a few more kilometres Mitica and I decide to hitch—hike again. Somebody stopped and told us he can only take us a few more miles. We stepped in and were asked where we are going. We answered Montreal. He asked us if we have friends over there and we answered that we are Romanian emigrants. He then locked the doors, told us not to move and showed us the emblem on his sleeve that showed he was working for the Emigration service. Oh, no, not another problem! Mitica, what are they going to do with us? Send us home after so much trouble?...

He took us to the Canadian border put us under guard and then they started to ask us questions in order to fill in forms for official emigration. They provided a Romanian translator over the phone that asked us questions and translated to the clerk who, in turn, was registering what was said. We asked the translator if they were sending us back home and he said that that was not even the case. So we calmed down. Late in the evening they took us by car to a building where the windows had bars on them and gave us a room with two beds and a bath. Imagine how unforgetable the bath we took that evening is... really unforgetable. The next morning they took us again to the border check-point, gave us a kind of an ID and the address of Montreal hotel where we were to stay and receive instructions regarding our stay in Canada. As you could figure out already, I travelled a bit, but I’ve never been treated like this country treated me. I could say it is the most special country ever known to me. After living two weeks in a hotel on government expense we reaceived a check and that was enough to pay the rent for an apartment and food. We then received the right to work and everything got back to normal. I was feeling very good... I was saying to myself that it was a worthwhile sacrifice.

From here on I will tell you the story of my spiritual discoveries in the new world. It started with meeting a person by the name of Danielle Boudrias. We met on a Friday evening on September the 16^th 1994, in one of the night clubs in Montreal. She told me she rarely gets into night clubs, but that night she felt she should do it, when a family of friends asked her to come. We exchanged phone numbers and bid us good night. We became friends and she started to talk frequently about her beliefs, telling me she belonged to a so-called mormon church. She would talk all day long about the Church and invite me to attend the service. I would not even want to consider such a thing. I then considered that if I accepted her invitation I would have stepped on the sacred bones of my Orthodox ancestors. Her friendship started to bore me and at the beginning of December 1994 I told her I wanted our relationship to come to an end. Realizing my attitude she mailed me a copy of the Book of Mormon in French. I was with a friend when I received the book; he asked what is with that crapy book... throw it away now. For a moment I was tempted to do so, but I remembered how she was telling me it is sacred, and I said to myself I can’t throw it. Like every one of us, I had done things in my life that I was not proud of. Sins that my conscience was telling me they don’t please God. Though I always considered myself being a sinner, I always wanted to come with all of my being unto God. I remember that because this very wish, present in all of my prayers, I was asking the God of heaven and earth to help me find the way that leads to Him. Once the Book of Mormon entered my home a felt a greater invitation to change my life accordingly with God’s sacred commandments. A greater desire to repent and forget sins overwhelmed me. Interesting in my situation is that I had had before this desire to change but I never found enough strength to overcome my weaknesses once and for all. I had some problems with alcohol and when I heard that the members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints had the Word of Wisdom, I thought it was good they had such a thing in their Church.

I didn’t have a Bible in my home so I started to read the Book of Mormon and its words caused tears to stream down my face and made me desire even more to change my life. In the same time I believed, though, that I could change my life without having to change my religion. On the 19^th of March 1995 I decided never to smoke again and two weeks before I had stopped drinking alcohol. I had a great feeling in my heart... it was as if I will never touch those things again. I started to go to an Orthodox church every Sunday and became very active. The priest of the Orthodox Church in Montreal immediately noticed me and especially my voice and told me he had been looking for a long time for a novice (singer) to have in the Church to help him with the services, baptisms, weddings etc. He told me he would help me in all aspects of my life, even marry me if I wanted. This gave me hope then, believing that the only way I could maintain my change is to stick with the Church. On the other hand, I resumed my relationship with Danielle, sharing our beliefs with each other. Since Danielle was always inviting me to the Church of Jesus Christ, I made a deal with her, that if she would come once to the Orthodox Church I would come to hers. Therefore, I went to a fireside and she came to a service the church holds to commemorate the last week of the Savior’s life. I wasn’t impressed at all with the visit I made because we saw a film and I judged this like ‘Jesus never used television in order to preach’ so I marked my friend's church with one black dot. Danielle was amazed seeing every Romanian soul passing under a table three times, then kneelling and kissing the wooden legs of a statue that represented Jesus hanging on a big cross in the middle of the Orthodox church. On the 21^st of April 1995, on a Friday which the Orthodox call the Great Friday (the Friday when Jesus was crucified) my desire to repent determined me to go to the Orthodox priest to confess all of my sins, and the very same priest gave me the sacrament next Sunday on Easter.

At a certain time, I began to feel that the members of the Church of Jesus Christ were closer and more honest in their relationship with Heavenly Father. I was prompted to pray to God, in the name of Christ and ask Him if the Book of Mormon was true, if the vision of Joseph Smith was true etc. I began to think: Does God answer these kind of questions… doesn’t this mean to tempt Him? I thought about it over and over, then I remembered that at times, in my life, I was tempted to believe that God doesn't exist. And I realized that a confirmation about the truth could be the source of a perfect faith for me. Yes, but I didn’t want to change my religion, even though I began to desire, more than anything, for a confirmation from the Father, a sign from Him. The Orthodox Church must be the true one... it must be so... I started to plead with him, shedding a lot of tears that He would confirm and tell me how to serve Him, what to do for Him, how to manifest my love for Him. What did He want from me? To become a singer for the orthodox people from Montreal, go on the top of a mountain and live in a cave or become a monk... It started to be the most precious and looked for thing of my life. I felt like I wasn't able to go on at all, without having a solid confirmation from my Heavenly Father. I started to pray very often and cry in order to soften His heart and get an answer. From my biblical knowledge, I thought that the answer to my prayers should come through some dream or even an angel. I didn't know any other ways of communication from heaven. Two weeks had gone by and there was still no answer to prayers. I thought it is impossible not to represent anything to God, I knew He would find time to answer me. Then I decided not to set any terms... an answer, however that would be... I could not live like that. Lord, is the Church of Jesus Christ true?... Is the Book of Mormon true, Joseph Smith’s vision?... Is there another true Church?... please, tell me the truth… whatever that would be. But there was still one more test for me…

When I entered Canada, I filled in a file in which I declared we've been persecuted in Romania and that living there was life threatening for us, asking for legal emigration rights in this new country. They gave us a dead line to write down the story of our lives that would explain the persecution. We also had the right of receiving the services of a lawyer free of charge. Talking with other Romanians, I found out that there were profesionists who, for 40 dollars could provide so called perfect stories, in order to be able to pass the committee and be accepted to live in Canada. I contacted as well one of these so called specialists and made up a story of how my mother was Hungarian and my father Romanian and that, because my semi-Hungarian ancestry, I often got beat up by the police and other citizens bla, bla, bla... I gave this story to one lawyer and asked her to help me with the interview, then I turned in my file to the Emigration Service. This happened before having that deep desire to change my life. Then I received an invitation to support in front of a committee, accompanied by the lawyer, the history of my persecution in Romania. I was talking with other Romanians about the way these interviews would go on. Some were saying that if you wanted to soften their hearts and allow you to live in Canada, you would have to cry in front of them so they will not send you back to Romania because they will kill you. I started as well to prepare to act my part well. The letter with the invitation arrived on May, the 11th 1995 at 8 in the morning. Everybody was praying for me, including the Mormons, promising they’ll have their finger crossed, knowing how important it was for me to stay in their beautiful country. A few days before they actually even asked me if I wanted to get a blessing from the priesthood of their Church. Before this time I’d met Michel Mehana, a guy from Lebanom who had had the same emigration experience. I told Michel and Danielle that I appreciate their support and I agreed to receive the priesthood blessing, hoping that, if it would be from God, it will do me some good. And it was indeed going to be so…

On the 10^th of May at 6 in the evening, I went to Legau family, where, for the first time, I received a blessing by the laying on of hands and through the priesthood of the Church of Jesus Christ. Nothing spectacular, so far... I thanked them and went home in order to prepare my play for the next morning. Once arrived home I started to read to get deep into a life story I never lived. Then, for the first time since everything written in here occured, my heart started talking to me. You fervently ask the Lord to answer your prayers and tell you which way to go and tomorrow you're going to lie and even cry to prove your lies as being true. How ingrate for you to use such noble a feeling for unrighteous purposes. I should never lie... Other thoughts came to my mind... Lie one more time tomorrow, or, what, do you want to confess to a whole committee that everything was a lie, that you lied… they will laugh at you… forget it.

I didn’t know what to do. I called Michel the Lebanese and he told me that before becoming a mormon he went through the interview, that he lied and afterwards he sent a letter confessing his sin. He told me: Doru! Get down on your knees and ask God what to do... He will tell you. I put down the phone and started to pray with all my might and strength. After the prayer, I felt a power within myself and a great determination not no lie even if that could have meant to be sent home to Romania. It was already late so I went to bed, but inside myself there still was the fight to overcome the spirit of all lies.

I don't know how the time went by, but there I was in a room at 8 in the morning, with four judges in front of me, a lawyer to my right and an interpreter to my left, plus a coulpe of representatives from a human rights' organization. On top of all, before me on a table there was the BIBLE, waiting to put my hand on it and swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth. I felt small, but eager to face the challenge. Before the President of the committee opened the meeting, I raised my hand and asked to speak in French, on my own, without an interpreter. They allowed me to do so and I, with tears in my eyes, I said: I apologize for making you to waste your time with my case and a story that is not true. All that I wrote in there is a story I made up, that is not true. My lawyer who, previously, received 300 dollars from me in order to help me better, stood up, crying, saying that no one has done anything like this to her before, upset that I didn’t tell her before. I personally asked for forgiveness and told her that I had taken this decision just one night before and that the only thing I did ever since was to maintain it. Then the Presidend asked me a question that put me to the wall: What made you do this thing? It was a deep silence for at least 30 seconds. I wasn't ready to give such an answer. I searched inside myself and found it: ”J’ai decouvert Jesus Christ et je veux le suivre…” (I found Jesus Christ and I want to follow Him). Then silence followed again. We were told we’ll take a 30 minute break. On the hall the lawyer congratulated me for supporting the cause of truth and wished me good luck. After the break I was informed that in 30 days I had to submit the real story of my life and the reason I came to Canada. The storm was now gone. I went home having a wonderful feeling and the joy of directly facing the father of all lies.

Saturday, the 13^th of May 1995, one of my old friends from Paris, Stefan Toma (in fact, he’s the same person we earlier met in the story and who taught us the technique of sailing inside the container) asked me to give him a ride to a neighbouring town of Montreal to take care of some business. Stefan was a believer; in fact, before coming to Canada he’d been a monk in a Romanian monastery. Under this circumstances, while driving, I felt like never before, the power of God in my bosom. A still voice was talking to my heart. You should never bow down to any man who ever lived on this earth, or to any thing made by the hand of man of by any other hand. I could see right before my eyes the first biblical verses from Exodus chapter 20: "I am the Lord thy God... Thou shalt have no other gods except Me… Thou shalt not make any engraven image... Up to that moment, I was still crossing myself, praying to the Saint patron of my name, to Virgin Mary and other icons. All my life I heard from other confessions that the icon is an engraven image and that worshiping the saints was wrong.

I always condemned that kind of attitude and never accepted it, even though Exodus says it so clearly. What I could not understand in a life time, the Lord helped me understand in a fraction of a second. With Stefan right next to me and while I was driving I told everything I felt. I told my friend that God was speaking in my chest, in the same time making the promise that I will never worship and adore anybody else but Him, my Lord and my God and that I will do so in the name of Jesus Christ. After receiving this sacred teaching by the Spirit, I received the confirmation that all that I’d been taught abouth the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was true and it was all from God. For me, the first vision was real, the Book of Mormon was indeed the sacred word of God for the last days, and the great man, Joseph Smith, was the restorer of the Lord's Church. The Lord God told me that this Church was the way to Him, that way I tried all my life to find. I was so overwhelmed by feelings of inside warmth, love, peace, divine presence and other sacred feelings, all summed up in an unique feeling I had never felt before in my life. I knew, in that moment, without a shadow of a doubt, that God lives and speaks to us when we seak, opens when we knock and gives us when we ask with real intent. Everything that I was feeling I was transmitting to Stefan, who was just amazed at my words and agreed with me. The next day, Sunday morning, contrary to my habits I’d had for the last 4-5 months to go to the Orthodox Church, I went to the chapel of the Church of Jesus Christ in Laval-Montreal. I saw an elderly sister looking at me with tears in her eyes and at the beginning I could not understand why. Later, Danielle told me that in the same day, together with some sisters, she was fasting that I would receive a testimony from God.

I told her that I found the truth abouth the Lord’s Church and asked to be baptized. I was told that I had to meet some nice missionaries who will teach me the gospel and tell me what I'll have to do next. I started to take the six missionary discussions. They were a real delight. I was so thrilled and willing to become a member and start the real service. I was reading a lot from the scriptures. They told me a lot about the feelings one would have when the Holy Ghost is present.

Because of my enthusiasm and, in the same time, the lack of knowledge I got caught in a trap the devil can set. I started to feel a foolish pride, considering myself to be a chosen one by God, above all others, called to call people to repentance, that I would posess the gift to see other’s sins, work miracles and healings etc. With these thoughts in mind I started, without any reason, to get into people's lives, aquaintances, friends and members. I even had ‘revelations’ of how different individuals would break the law of chastity and I was going to them, saying the Lord commands them to repent. I was asking the blind and the laim that were living on my street if they had faith in Christ, telling them that if they did I could make them see and walk. I hope that you realize, if you know me well enough, what was going on with me... unfortunately I didn't. The more I did things that were unrighteous and by which I was judging, the more I could feel unknown and strange motions in my chest. I didn’t know what to believe… some would tell me to follow the spirit I felt within myself… others would get upset because of the way I was treating them. I thought that the feelings I had came from God, and I was always praying to God to confirm to me whether I was doing good. It was a strange thing to me that when I was not doing anything bad, that feeling was gone, and when I was judging people, that real power was present. On Sunday, May 28^th 1995, my second time at church, during Sunday school I knelt down next to my chair and asked aloud why everybody doesn’t do the same to show humility before God. Everything happend in one week, just after I received my testimony, and finished with a visit, in the same Sunday, to a family of members, an old couple, where Danielle and Michel Mehana accompanied me. The host, sister Cosette used to come rarely to church because for the past eight years she was in a wheel chair. When we entered their home, sister Cosette told me I could make her walk again. This completly bewildered me. I told her that if she had faith in Christ everything was possible. Michel said I didn’t hold the Priesthood to do that. We sat at the table and, while the blessing on the food was pronounced, I was saying my own prayer asking God for the miracle. After the amin, I told sister Cosette that she could stand up and walk. Danielle said ‘let’s eat first’. I stood up and insisted the the old lady would stand too. She stood up, walked a couple of steps, showed us that she is happy she can do that, and that was all of the miracle.

My friends at church saw that something was happening with me, so Danielle called the bishop and he sent the missionaries to my place to read Moroni 7. So on Monday evening, at about 21:30, the missionaries came to my door. Hi! What are you doing? You should already be inside at this hour... They told me they were in the area and thought to stop by and read together a chapter from the Book of Mormon before going to bed. We took turns in reading Moroni 7, expressed our feelings about the pure love of Christ and, at around 22 :30, they left. At around 23:00 I received a phone call from Danielle who asked me how I was doing. I told her I received a surprise visit of the missionaries, even if it was late, that we read from the scriptures about God’s pure love etc. Then she asked me: How about you, Doru, can you say that you show love to your neighbours? Do you know how much you hurt me and others, telling us offensive words and bringing false accusations? In that moment, inside my chest, instead of that strange motion, I had a feeling that told me that everything I’d done was through Satan’s inspiration. I could not speak, it was as if someone was pouring hot oil down my throat. I finally was able to ask for forgivenes for what I’d done and hang up. I was asking myself how could I have become the victim of such a deception. I remembered that the devil deceived me by misinterpreting some passages from the scriptures and one night I even thought I saw his shadow in one of the corners in my room. I got scared thinking how foolishly I was deceived. Satan wanted me to offend the people in the Church and then, upon realizing my mistake, to provoke the shame that would keep me away from the Church. Yet, my fear of him, instead of making me to stay away from the Church, drew me closer to it, like under a shelter. That night and the next day were terrible. I was scared to read the scriptures, to think, afraid that Satan would attack again. The next day, Tuesday on the 30^th of May, after work, somebody asked me if I had problems with my eye sight because he could see how my eyes could not focus on one place, as if a curtain was placed on them. When I realized that my inner pain was visible on the outside I got scared that something bad might happen. For a long time I'd wanted to cry, but I had no tears. Then I called my friend Michel, who told me to come to him right away.

I sat down on a chair, he placed his hands on my head and gave me a blessing, the second one in my life. While the blessing was pronounced, tears came out, strimming down my face, the fear left my soul and was replaced by a warm feeling, as if I entered a land of peace and protection. No one has ever helped me before, like my brother Michel did that day. I talked to him for more than two hours. In fact I was the one listening; it seemed that every word Michel said was registering in my emptied mind and soul because of my sad experience. My dear friends, Satan is a real being and I thank God He provided me with this opportunity to meet and understand this way the adversary works in, and understand his power, but I'm most thankful that the Lord released me from his power.

For the days that followed my only priority was to finish the discussions in order to receive the ordinances of the holy baptism and receiving the Holy Ghost. I received in the same time from Michel the Gospel Principles manual, and at the end of the 19^th chapter called ‘The gifts of the Spirit’ I read how the Devil can imitate all of God’s gifts. I also found out how the Holy Ghost can testify to one of the truth, and also that he abides with a person only if that person receives the baptism and the gift of the Holy Ghost by the laying on of hands.

I still don't know why I had to go through experiencing these imitations, but I hope to be able to help others not to have the same.

On Sunday morning, on the 4th of June 1995, at around 7 I met my dear missionaries to get the last discussion and prepare the program for my baptism which was to take place after the Sunday meeting.

At 12:30 the ceremony started and I was baptized by Michel Mehana and right after that Elder Lawson confirmed me as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and said "receive the Holy Ghost". I can not fully express what that day meant for me. Starting from the day of my baptism I always longed for the noble feelings the Holy Ghost gives us. No other joy that can be felt in this life can be compared with the one we feel when the Spirit of the Lord dwells within our hearts. Through the gate of the baptism I entered the Kingdom of God and this has become one of the most special days of my life. From there on all my decisions were to be connected to and beautifully influenced by this wonderful Church.

Two weeks after my baptism, on a Sunday, the 18th of June, after the the regular meetings, the bishop of the Laval ward of the Montreal, bishop Bourget conffered me the Aaronic Prieshood. About ten years before I was praying to the Lord to help me pass an exam in order to become a priest. How grateful I am for answering those prayers.

At this time, contrary to my plans of remaining in Canada for good, in my heart I felt that God has given me a great treasure and that it would be nice of me to go back to my country where I was born and share it with my people. But my mind didn’t want to change plans. Life seemed much nicer in Canada than in Romania. But the feelings of my heart started to get stronger and stronger. I was, again, facing with a mountain. What was to be done? I decided to fast and pray to know God's will. While I was fasting, the Holy Ghost confirmed to me that what I had felt in my heart related to my returning home was the will of the Lord. Since that day, in mind plans changed. I began praparing to return to Romania. At church I starter to tell people about my decision and they congratulated me for my faith and courage, but when my Romanian friends heard of this, they said I am crazy... every Romanian wants to come to Canada and Doru, from Canada, goes back to Romania. With all the different opinions the time was going by…

On March the 17th, 1996, during the Priesthood session of the Montreal Stake Conference, I gave I talk in which I told my brothers that God is asking me to serve in my native country and that I was determined to leave that fall. That Sunday, brother Serge Lemonge conffered upon me the Melchizedek Priestood.

Starting with the 24th of May 1996, on a Friday, I began to take lessons for temple preparation and the next day, on Saturday, the 25th of May 1996, I received my patriarhal blessing from the patriarch Luc Salm. It is obvious that the Lord was watching over me and was spiritually preparing me. Saturday, the 8^th of June 1996, one year and four days after my baptism, I received the holy ordinances in Toronto Temple.

I was frequently participating at young single adults activities and some sisters have even asked if I was interested in a serious relationship that could turn into marriage. I told them that I was sorry to disappoint them, but my wife was somewhere in Romania and that she was waiting only for me and I could not let her down.

In August 1996, at the middle of the month, there was a member that came from Bucharest to settle into Canada for good and got me scared, telling me that things don’t go very well in Romania and that it would be good to change my plans so I don’t starve to death over there. How true Jesus was – the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. I did some math and said to myself that I am not financially prepared, so it would be better if I postpone my departure until I get two jobs and save more money in case I would face some difficult days.

But, even though I wanted to stay at least one more year in Canada, God reminded me that when I received the Melchizedek Priesthood I commited before the brethren, during the conference that, in the fall I would leave. Even though, several months before, the Canadian Government had extended my work permit for two more years, on Octomber the 20th I received a letter from the Emigration Service in which I was informed that I should leave Canada before the 24th of November, 2006, the latest. Reading the letter, I said: "Lord, that’s it! I promise I will leave... nobody will change my mind". When I told that to my boss, he called his lawyer who told me that in two days he could help me to get married with a Canadian woman and that in three years I would receive Canadian citizenship. Of course, the Romanian friends I had, tried to change my mind and stay. They didn’t stop trying until I showed them my plane ticket. Even there was kind of a fear in mind, there was peace in my heart. The voice of God seemed to speak to me: “Fear not!... Only believe!... I will blees you and you will lack nothing...”

On Saturday, November 23, 1996, at 21:00, I left that sacred land and my dear friends in the presence of whom I changed my life. Iorgu and Dobric families, Danielle Boudrias, Michel and Christine Mehana and their children, Jocelin Vaillancourt, Eric Valee, Pierre Anthian and Madaleine Banville, took me to the airoport.

Sunday, the 24th of November, 1996 at 14:30, I landed in the waste and gloomy Bucharest. After seeing all of my family and my relatives, I went back to Bucharest and started my service in the Church in Romania. My family did not accept my religious conversion, but today, after some years, their attitude towards me has changed for the better.

Since I came back to Romania, the Lord overwhelms me with blessings. On June 18, 1998, I met my beautiful Ana-Maria who got baptized and became my wife on November 14, 1998. We were sealed in Freiberg Temple, on April 12, 2000. We have two beautiful daughters, Evelina-Maria, born on August 12, 1999 and Diana-Eugenia, born on June 19, 2001.

In 1997 I started university (college) and in July 2002, after graduation I became licenced in law. But since 1998 I've been working in the insurance business and this is really my carieer. Since Octomber 2003, after instructing myself sufficiently, I managed to open my own business in this beautiful field. This brings extra security in for the future of my dear family.

My relationship with the Church is, still, my great reservoir of joy. An immense joy is filling my heart, seeing the growth of the restored Kingdom of the Lord on Romanian land, both in its membership and in quality. In the dedicatory prayer of Romania, in February 1990, God told us through His servant that this country is rich with the blood of Israel. I pray that I and all the Romanian members together with the missionaries gather in the House of Israel all the heaven’s chosen ones. I anxiously look forward for the day when the first stake of Zion will be formed here, in this sacred Romanian land and when the first temple for the endowment of the members and the redeeming ordinances of our dead will be build.

I bear solemn testimony: of all activities and labors undertaken in this world, none is like the one done by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Nothing from what we do in this life compares with what we do to build God's Kingdom on earth. All things will have an end, but the work of God will last forever. Our great Heavenly Father lives and knows us all, He loves us all, and calls us all unto Him. His Son Jesus Christ broke the chains of death and is alive; He prepares a place for us that where He is, we also may be. The Holy Ghost speaks to us and testifies of the truth. Joseph Smith is the great prophet of the restoration. The Book of Mormon is scripture, the word of the Lord for the last days that gets us closer to Him more than any other book. Jesus Christ leads the destiny of His Church through the living prophet and apostles. IN THE HOLY NAME OF JESUS CHRIST. AMIN !

April 2004 Brother DORU