The war ended in 1945, but postwar life was hard. We were German, so we were expelled from Czechoslovakia and sent to Germany, where cities lay in ruins and many people were destitute. Sometimes my aunts would stand in line all night just to get a little food. On other occasions, we would go to the forest to pick blackberries and mushrooms, which we could swap for bread. Food was so severely rationed that pets would disappear—people would steal them to feed themselves. Often, we went to bed hungry.

 My grandparents were practicing Catholics, but we did not have a Bible. The local priest refused to sell one to my grandfather, saying that parishioners needed only to listen to Mass. That left my grandfather with many unanswered questions about God.

 I was seven years old when two of Jehovah’s Witnesses came to our home. Using the Bible, they answered my grandfather’s questions about such subjects as the Trinity, hellfire, and the condition of the dead. My grandfather found the Bible’s answers to be clear and satisfying. He was convinced that he had found the truth. Our entire family thereafter accepted a regular Bible study with a Witness couple.

 Even when I was a little girl, love for Jehovah grew in my heart. I enjoyed reading articles about missionaries who served Jehovah in remote lands. I wondered, ‘How do they live? What is it like to preach to people who have never heard Jehovah’s name?’

 At 12 years of age, I decided that I wanted to become a missionary, and I started working toward that goal. First, I strove to become a zealous minister of the good news. Then, on December 12, 1954, I was baptized, and in time I became a pioneer. I was getting closer to realizing my goal!

 I knew that I would need to speak English to attend Gilead School for missionaries, so I worked hard at learning the language. I thought that I could practice with the American soldiers who were in Germany at the time. One day I approached a soldier and said to him, “I am Christ.” He looked at me and answered kindly, “I think you mean to say ‘I am a Christian.’” I was not as proficient in English as I thought I was!

 When I was in my early 20’s, I moved to England, where I worked in the mornings with a Witness family as a babysitter. In the afternoons, I shared in the door-to-door ministry, which gave me an excellent opportunity to practice my English. After a year in England, my language skills had improved significantly.

 I returned to Germany, and in October 1966, I was invited to serve as a special pioneer in Mechernich. But the people in that territory turned out to be as cold to our message as the weather was. They never invited us in, even when the temperature dropped below freezing. I often begged Jehovah in prayer, “If one day you allow me to serve as a missionary, please send me to a warm land.”

 After serving as a special pioneer for just a couple of months, Jehovah granted me the desire of my heart! I received an invitation to attend the 44th class of Gilead School for missionaries, which graduated on September 10, 1967. Where was I assigned to go? To the beautiful tropical country of Nicaragua, in Central America! The missionaries who were already there greeted me and my three companions with open arms. I felt like the apostle Paul, who “thanked God and took courage” when the brothers came to meet him.—Acts 28:15.

 I was assigned to the peaceful town of León, where I resolved to learn Spanish as quickly as possible. I struggled with the language, even though for two months I studied it 11 hours a day!

 I remember that one day a householder offered me a fresco, as Nicaraguans call a fruit drink. I thought I replied that I could drink only “filtered water.” But the woman looked puzzled. Some days later I found out that in my broken Spanish, I had told her that I could drink only “holy water”! Thankfully, my Spanish improved with time.

 Often, I would study the Bible with entire families. Since I felt safe in León, I loved conducting Bible studies in the evenings, sometimes until 10:00 p.m. I knew almost everyone in the town by name. On my way home, I would greet and chat with the friendly neighbors who were enjoying the evening breeze, sitting in their rocking chairs outside their homes.

 I helped several people learn the truth in León. One was Nubia, the mother of eight little boys. Our study continued until I was assigned to Managua in 1976. I lost contact with Nubia and her children for 18 years, until I returned to León to attend a convention. During the intermission, I was surrounded by a group of young men—Nubia’s children! I was thrilled to see that Nubia had succeeded in raising her sons in the truth.

 In the late 1970’s, Nicaragua began to experience widespread social and political upheaval. We continued preaching as best we could. In my assigned territory—Masaya, to the south of the capital—we often encountered loud protests and armed riots. One night, while at a meeting, we had to lie down on the Kingdom Hall floor, as cross fire broke out between Sandinista fighters and government guards. a

 Another day, while I was in the ministry, I came across a masked Sandinista firing at a guard. I tried to flee, but more masked men appeared. I ran around the corner, but there was no escape. Bullets began to rain down from government helicopters. Suddenly, a man opened the door of his house and pulled me inside. I felt that Jehovah had rescued me!

 I served in Masaya until March 20, 1982, a day I will never forget. Early that day, five missionary companions and I were about to have breakfast when we saw a group of Sandinista soldiers with machine guns marching into the backyard of the missionary home. They burst into the dining room, and one of them sternly ordered: “You have an hour to pack one suitcase each and come with us.”

 The soldiers took us to a farm, where we were detained for several hours. Then they took four of us in a small bus to the border of Costa Rica, and we were expelled from the country. In time, a total of 21 missionaries were deported.

 The brothers from Costa Rica took us in, and the next day we arrived at the branch office in San José. We did not stay there long. About ten days later, eight of us were on our way to our new missionary assignment in Honduras.

 In Honduras, I was assigned to Tegucigalpa. During the 33 years I served in that city, one congregation grew into eight. Sadly, over the years violent crime rose in Tegucigalpa. There were many thieves, and I was held up several times. There were also gang members who would ask me for money, or “war tax,” as it was called. I would tell them, “I have something much more valuable than money,” and I would hand them a tract or a magazine. They always let me go!

 Most of the people in Tegucigalpa were peaceable and kind, and I helped some of them to learn the truth. For example, I remember Betty, a Bible student who seemed to progress well until one day when she told me that she was going to join an evangelical church. My disappointment vanished two years later when Betty left the church and resumed her Bible study with me. Why did she return? Betty missed the genuine love that she felt in the congregation. (John 13:34, 35) She told me: “You warmly welcome all to your meetings, whether they are rich or poor. You are different.” In time, Betty got baptized.

 The missionary home in Tegucigalpa was closed in 2014, after which I was reassigned to Panama. I now live in a missionary home along with four other longtime missionaries.

 I have now spent some 55 years in missionary service. Lately, I have had to slow down a little because of health problems. Jehovah has helped me to remain active in teaching others about him.

 Could I have devoted myself to some other pursuit in life? Yes, of course. But I would have missed out on so many blessings! I have more than 50 spiritual sons and daughters whom I have helped to learn the truth and many other friends. In addition to this “large family,” I have the love and support of my dear Aunt Steffi, who lives in Germany.

 Although I never married, I have never felt alone. Jehovah has been with me. I have also made wonderful friends, such as Marguerite Foster, who was my missionary partner for 17 years. We enjoyed many experiences together, and we have remained close friends down to this day.—Proverbs 18:24.

 My greatest satisfaction is knowing that I have used my life in the best possible way—serving Jehovah to the full. I fulfilled my childhood dream, and I have had many exciting experiences along the way! I have been genuinely happy, and I look forward to serving Jehovah for all eternity.