",,,for unto you...."

This Christmas season is so different from those we have become accustom at home. The outside temp is 90 degrees during the day and 85 at nights. No one here has ever seen snow fall from the heavens. Pineapples are flourishing throughout the bush. We have seen no Christmas lights or windows decorated with chocolate displays. No “shopping days left before Christmas” signs or choirs of people singing carols. No gifts under a masterpiece of a Christmas tree, no ringing of a bell by the Salvation Army. No hustle and bustle of shoppers on the streets, no gathering for family dinners and parties, and no traffic snarls. Though we miss the common sights and sounds of the season, our reflections of Him who we celebrate have become more tender and meaningful. His birth was not heralded by stores or decorations or parties, but stable animals, a lone young couple, shepherds, angels, and a star. I’m sure Heavenly Father and Mother were tenderly there with their infinite love and warmth. We feel the exact same this year as we serve Him whose humble birth blesses all mankind. May we always have this years’ experience etched into our souls.

 Merry Christmas to all from

Africa!

Love, The Daltons

"...families are for ever..."

    “…Charles Ofori, take Charlotte Owusua by the right hand…” As I watched the scene unfolding before my eyes we all had tears of joy for the sealing power of the priesthood as a faithful and loving couple knelt across an altar dressed in white. The spirit was rejoicing for this celestial moment where angels witness vows that bind for eternity. I watched as they looked into each other’s eyes for just that quick glance reaffirming their love for each other. She was small in stature with straitened black hair tucked carefully behind a veil. He was dressed in a white shirt and a white tie with hands callused from years of toil and labor. The Sealer spoke of eternity and blessings promised with faithfulness to these most sacred covenants. Two witnesses from their branch and Sister Dalton and I were all that bathed in this glorious scene, yet we all could feel others in our presences as covenants were pronounced and acknowledged and a simple “eyu” was uttered. Simply and eloquently eternity became as one with two souls now as one, in purpose and loving care.

    The door opened and five of the most precious angels quietly and slowly walked into the room; two daughters, Christianna and Belinda, wearing white lace covered dresses that glowed with brightness, and purity. Then 3 sons followed their sisters wearing white shirts, white ties and white trousers with rolled up cuffs. Tears flowed from mother and father as they beheld their posterity clothed in heavenly attire. It was if we had parted the heavens and were witnessing angels attending to all of us in that most sacred room here on earth. I once again drank of the spirit that is only found in these granite walls. Visions of generations to come filled my mind’s eye as time seemed to pause for all of us who embraced this tender mercy granted to this wonderful family.  Mirrors of everlasting were filled with this little family who gently embraced by the altar.

    “…Charles Ofori, take Charlotte Owusua by the right hand…” Ernst then placed his hand on theirs, then Christianna, Johnson, Belinda and Andrew. Seven of Heavenly Fathers children gathered around an altar of the Lords, receiving an ordinance that surpasses time and matter. A wash of eternal loving kindness from Father in Heaven enriched our souls as choirs of angels sung throughout the halls of Heaven. I shall never forget the feeling and love that filled my whole being as I sat with celestial kindred on a Saturday afternoon in the Ghana Accra Temple, December 17^th, 2011.   

"...He is thy life, and knows the length of thy days..."

                When I shook his hand I noticed how his fingers where not firm and somehow seemed to flop as we warmly greeted each other. Glancing at our grasp, his fingers did indeed kind of flop without much grip. He was white haired, slightly built and a smile from ear to ear. He is a farmer with 4 farms that grow Cocoa, Plantain, and Cassava. In this part of the world, he is well known and recognized for his example of hard work and a complete dependency on the goodness of God. During the flood he lost all of his Cocoa seedlings he had raised in a small nursery he has next to his humble home. Not to complain, he tells the story of knelling after the water receded and thanking Heavenly Father for the small, small challenge he was experiencing and asked for the strength to replant this dedicated land he loves. His palms are callused and toughened by years of machete usage on the farm, yet his fingers were not too functional. “Why” I thought. What accident had happened in his younger years to cause both hands to have the same finger behavior? As we exchanged the warmth of brotherly love after our meeting, I gently put my arm around him and asked if we could talk together for just a minute. Graciously he accepted and we sat on a planter curb in front of the chapel.

                “I was born July 19, 1949 to very poor, poor parents. They were farmers until they passed over 15 years ago. Being the 5^th child to a poor family meant I would work on the farm all of my life to help supply food for the family. My grandmother knew of my family’s poor conditions and this un-welcomed burden on the family, and offered to take care of me while mother could work on the farm the day after my birth.” His eyes dropped from my gaze and his smile turned to a serious look of concern as he continued. “Grandmother placed me in a water bowery (a pool of water dug into the side of a river bank) with the thought of my drowning would be a relief to mother and father who were so destitute. Mother came home totally exhausted from a long day of labor on the farm and asked where her baby was? Grandmother said she did not know and the family was better off without another mouth. Mother collapsed with exhaustion and heart ache for her baby. It was father who found me submerged in the water bowery, lifeless and cold. I have been told by my older sister that I was in the bowery for over 4 hours in hopes life would be gone from my little body. My father held me close to his breast to warm my lifeless body and rubbed my body with his tears. My brother and 3 sisters remembered the prayers to God father cried for hours as he held me close doing all he could to bring life back into this baby. Mother was attended to by my sisters who fed her soup for 2 weeks so she could regain her strength. For those two weeks, father did all that he could to strengthen mother and me. He did not go to the farm but sent my 9 year old brother and my 6 year old sister each day to the farm to harvest food for them to eat. I had no suck for 2 weeks and only droplets of water father would place on my tiny lips. We lived far away from any help or village so he made do with what they had. Grandmother was never heard of again up to this day, he said with a whisper.” I was not prepared for this man’s life story yet beckoned him to continue as he once again smiled. “God Almighty has saved my life and I am happy with a family that is raised in the Church” he said. “My hands are a product of me being in that watery grave for 4 hours, but God has not limited me of my love for life and my farming. He has taught me to be thankful for all that I have for all is a gift of God.” I marveled as he continued to share his conversion story to the Church. “Master Stephen Abu shared with me on my farm that shares a common boundary, the wonderful news of his loving God, and I did join within a few days. I hold the Priesthood and have tried to be faithful with all of my doings for Jesus. I owe my life to Him who knows when even a bird falls.”  Yes, Brother Aboagye, He knows all and blesses all with His endless kindness and love.    

"...that they may be as one..."

As I sat on the stand, I leaned over to the councilor and whispered “who is that woman who has just come into the chapel with those 4 girls?” He looked and whispered “Sister Elizabeth Sika”. “Where is her husband” I asked. “He is a member but doesn’t come” was his reply. I pondered those too common but sad words, “he is a member yet doesn’t come”, as I listened to the testimony of a faithful pioneer shared with love. Why would a husband who must dearly love and cherish his wife and family not come to church with them each Sunday? At one time he had a flame of the Spirit that burned within his breast for the love of his Savior. He must have wanted to be united with his wife in her love of the gospel because he searched his soul for the truth and found the comforting gentle whispering of the Holy Ghost say, “you are home” during his baptism. And his little girls, they longed to walk with daddy to Sunday School. How could this be, I thought as I bowed my head and offered a silent prayer. It was then my understanding was opened and I beheld a man kneeling at an altar with his wife and 4 little girls, dressed in white, all holding hands. It was but a glimpse of those things to come. Just as calm and softly as the scene had come to my mind’s eye, I was taught what I must do. I leaned over to the councilor and whispered, “Do you know where they live”? “Yes”, he said. “Then we will take Sister Sika and visit their home right after this meeting is concluded” I whispered.

The drive was brief yet a fair distance to walk each Sunday morning to be on time. Sister Sika was quiet and I’m sure a bit confused as to why we needed to see her husband right then. Almost embarrassed she seemed, but was obedient to my request. John Awudi was even more surprised as he saw me coming down the trail to their home. I prayed fervently that Father would guide me in our conversation and that I was His to handle through the Spirit. I stepped forward and extended my hand in fellowship and John took me by the hand and welcomed me to their humble home. The councilor retrieved an old wooden bench and placed it under a shade tree. Sister Sika gently placed her wrap on the bench for us to set on. John brought a very short stool, normally used for the making of Fufu, and placed it alongside the bench and sat down. I motioned to he and his wife to set on the perfectly prepared bench, side by side, and I then took the small stool and placed it in front of them and sat down. Through the councilors Twi, I asked of his farm and of their reason for making Nkurakan their home. I was searching for the Spirit to guide me in my sayings and then the most beautiful feeling came to 4 people setting under a shade tree on a Sunday morning. I shared with Brother Awudi that the Lord had great design on his future in His church and the blessings of his family depended upon his faithfulness. I looked directly at Sister Sika and asked if John was a good honest man, and she knew how much he loved her? She whispered, “Yes” and offered this insight, “I love him and so do our girls with all of our hearts”. Turning to John, in the spirit of love and brotherhood, I spoke in Twi a few words of Heavenly Fathers love for him and his family. I challenged John to prepare for God’s entire temple blessing afforded to all worthy saints in His church. I expressed the privilege it would be for Sister Dalton and me to teach them the Temple lessons over the next several weeks.

I have witnessed the spirit in meetings, in the tender moments before a child slips back to Heavenly Fathers arms, and have felt the healing wash to a repentant soul; but today we all felt and witnessed the uniting love Father in Heaven has offered all of his sons and daughters. Tears streamed down our faces, father, mother, councilor and me, we nodded a sincere commitment to prepare for eternal blessings. We stood and embraced as if we had loved and known each other before; four souls as one, in fellowship and in vision. As we parted and John escorted us back down the trail, I turned and shook his hand again and asked if he had a white shirt and tie for next Sunday, “shirt yes, tie no”. I took my tie off and handed it to him and said, “I will be to your home on Saturday afternoon to teach you how to tie the necktie”. As I drove back to the chapel, Sister Sika sobbed softly and said “Meda ase p, Meda ase p.” And in broken English, “God bless you, Elder Dalton”. Oh, how I have echoed those very words to my Father in Heaven, “Thank you, thank you, Father, for the blessing I received this day.”  

"...come and claim the blessings...."

Sister Dalton has been asked to further the Family History work here in the district. She follows Elder and Sister Terry, the previous couple missionaries who served so well. This is an assignment that has enlightened Sister Dalton as to the meaning of “perfecting of the saints”. Much progress was accomplished by Sister Terry and her diligence to fulfill her assignment as well as for the blessing bestowed on the saints who participated. It is a divine work that all of us have stewardship, yet most fellow citizens would not realize the challenge these faithful families have to extract and prepare their ancestors for temple blessings.

I start by saying with the help of Elder and Sister Borden of the Area Office, this sacred work is blooming throughout our entire district. Elder and Sister Borden have been so supportive and have made wonderful suggestions that have helped with the Family History spirit. They will be going home soon so we wish them well. Under their gentle suggestions, truly the hearts of the children began to turn to their fathers for the saints here in Abomosu. The power of the temple ordnances, now give substance and eternal permanence for both the living and the dead with each member who performs a service for a beloved ancestor. It is marvelous to witness the spiritual experiences of members in our district who bear testimony of this truth. Yesterday as we attended the Asunafo Branch meetings, we truly felt the spirit of Family History service. Our speaker in Sacrament meeting was prepared and had recently attended a temple session for a family name. Brother Frempong has worked with Sister Dalton for a number of months and now has the vision of this most important work. He is a farmer who works very hard at his farm along with his wife, Adoma. They have raised 7 children with only 2 left at home now. I remember one evening as Sister Dalton and I were driving home, how she could not keep the family members straite in her mind because of their lack of sir name pattern. Kwaku Charles Frempong- father, Adoma Janet Darkoa- mother, Johnson Frempong Adomako- eldest son, Afua Josephine Owusuaa- daughter, Yaa Mollis Marfoa- daughter, Thurker Elizabeth Boaduwa- daughter, Dora Owusuaa- daughter and Rockson Quesi Owusu- son. They are all from the same father and mother, Kwaku and Adoma. The sir name is not used most of the time here in Africa and you now can see the challenge facing a Family History consultant from Provo and the  family member trying to fill out group sheets. At one time, we took Adoma to a neighboring village to speak to her Auntie to be clear on the name and spelling of her grandmother on her mother’s side. It was fascinating to listen as they conversed about family names and dates. Most of the records here in the bush of Ghana are passed down from generation to generation by word of mouth so families are very free with the stories of “family members gone home to God” as they say.  The experiences of one family member are spoken of by generations because it was used as a link for children to understand their traditions and culture. I understood Sister Dalton’s frustration in trying to fill out a family history sheet with Brother Frempong, they do not follow sir names as we do in most of the world. Each name is very carefully chosen for the son or daughter. It is an honor to name your child after someone who has been influential in the father or mothers life. It may be a family member or even a missionary as was Elder Terry who had a baby named after him in Sankubenase Branch. Yet the spirit of Brother Frempong to do the temple work of his ancestors pumped through his veins. He fulfilled his goal of sealing his father and mother in the Accra Temple two weeks ago. He was so pleased and his spirit shown with brightness as he bore testimony of his sweet experience. We were all touched and especially Sister Dalton who had worked so hard with his family.

We have also implemented a very successful practice with the newly baptized members of our district. Sister Dalton has asked the branch Family History consultants to visit with the newly baptized member and help them to fill out a 4 generation group sheet. The success of this simple activity has strengthened these new members with the spirit of Elijah and the desire to attend the temple with their own family names. The goal of all of the branch and district leaders is to retain these “tender plants” in the fold and if they “feast of the Spirit” within the walls of the temple, within two months, to do baptisms for family members, they feel the spirit of the temple and the love Father has for all of His children. They are then asked to fully participate in the great family history work of the church. It is wonderful to attend with these new members and see their eyes as they perform an eternal ordinance for their own loved one. On December 17th, we are attending the temple as a whole district with 200 members and 26 newly baptized members and their own extracted family names. No work is more of a protection to these young “tender plants” than the temple work and the family history work which supports it. No work we do gives us more power to unlock the path for other who cannot unlock the gate for themselves. Our labor in the walls of the temple covers us with a shield and a protection, both individually and as a people. I testify to the wonderful plan of redemption for all of Fathers children, even those families here in Ghana with different family names. The Shepard will gather all of his sheep to his side and encompass them in His abundant love, with Brother Frempong leading the Asunafo Branch.

"...thanksgiving shall be found in Zion..."

This is a special time of the year for those of us who love America. We are some 10,000 miles from home yet the meaning of Thanksgiving has pierced my very soul this past week. We are truly a blessed nation, government, people and families. We are all aware of the covenant Father in Heaven awarded the Americas “…if people keep my commandments, they will prosper in the land of promise….” And while the Savior visited the Nephites on the Americas, he reminded those faithful saints “…Father will remember the covenant to his people of this land of promise…” I have felt this covenant more reverently over the past weeks as we prepare for a Thanksgiving day celebration in the bush of Africa. We are a truly blessed couple with roots in the history of building an America we love today even more. We are standing on shoulders of those who fought for freedoms anchored in a strong belief of God’s grace on the land from sea to shining sea. We are so thankful for the land of promise we have claim that is so many miles away during this season.

                We have made preparation for a gathering here in Abomosu on Thanksgiving Day. We will have a feast of fellowship, duty, songs, words and prayer for our beloved forefathers who carved out a life so many years ago. We will also feast upon a fully prepared turkey that was strutting his stuff just a day ago. Our missionaries have not had this privilege to eat turkey since they have come to Ghana so their mouths are watering with anticipation. Turkeys are not very common here so to find and dress a large tom was a feat. I searched for over 2 months and right outside our home one morning I heard a familiar gobble. To find the owner has been a real adventure and at one time even convinced myself that the taste of a poached turkey was the same as a purchased turkey. I just couldn’t live with myself if the Devil had won that battle. After some miracles of finding the owner, the negotiations lasted for 3 full weeks and finally a handshake was shared by both of us. Today we went to market in Nkawkaw for the last of the traditional “fixings”. There are only a few things that will not be on our table this year, cranberries, pumpkin pie, celery in the stuffing, pickles, egg- nog, cool whip and candied yams. We just figure Mr. Turkey was the most important guest at the table anyway. We did find 12 potatoes for mashed potatoes, green apples for apple pie and fresh peas and carrots. We have also added a favorite of all the village people here, Red Red. It is a bean and Plantain dish with peppi to light your fire. We even brought home a plastic bag filled with Ghana’s version of ice cream. It will be a grand day we hope our good Elders will forever remember. Doc Fife and the Medicine Woman will be up from the Area Office as our special guest along with Stephen and Margaret Abu, and several others from the branch. Two widows will participate for the first time in their lives, in all of the festivities. We look forward to a humble home filled with joy and love. Only a couple of hours for a handful of Americans who have given so much for the eternal truths these wonderful Ghanaian people thirst for. Ghana also is a blessed land, a temple of the Lord basks in the beautiful sunlight of Accra. It beckons to all African people to enter worthily and partake of the sweetest fruit offered to man.

                Sister Dalton and I offer our testimony of the truths we are so blessed with in these latter days. We know Father knows our names and faces and we continually recognize His hand in our lives. We serve a living God who knows each of his children whether in America or here in a humble home in the bush of Africa. May your Thanksgiving Day remind your families of the covenants we live for as a blessed nation and people.  

Happy Thanksgiving to all!                                                                                          

"...sweet is the soul of the humble..."

In every village there is a character that stands out as the village unusual. Even here in Ghana this seems to be a reality too. We serve 17 villages in the Abomosu District with 5 being the main church branches. As we have visited the saints and community members of most of these small villages, we have picked out the town unusual, as it were. I would like to share some of their characteristics for our blog this week. I will be gentle as to not poke fun disrespectful but just enlighten inquiring minds. Remember most of these people have lived in their village for most of their live and those that have moved here are humble as the natives.

Obomso is a small village south of Abomosu towards Asuom. There is a fellow, who lives there, probably in his mid 5o’s that has lived in the town for years. Originally he came from the “north” country of Ghana. He is a farmer and raises Cassava and Plantain. He is always in town in the evenings at his little shop. He never married and I don’t know why. I have asked him yet just couldn’t understand completely. We pass through the town usually once or twice a week, and most times have seen him there along the road sporting his NBA official basketball jerseys. We have never seen him in any other attire other that a NBA jersey. He is known for a collection of NBA jerseys. 95% of all the clothes people wear during the week are donated clothing to the nation’s people from some European country’s or America. The clothing is distributed to the Ghana citizens through small venders that will distribute those clothes to smaller street venders who will sell the clothing to the people here in the bush. A full size dress may cost 15 cents and so on. There are venders who will specialize in the latest “hip hop” fashion or those that specialize in children’s clothing. The main distributors that go through the truck load of donated clothing to pick out those items they specialize in. Then others will come for those articles of their choice and so on until the load is dispersed to all of the venders. This fellow only collects and sells NBA jerseys. He does have a great collection and some of the young boys in the area wanting a special jersey to swoon a young girl, will go to Obomso for that special NBA jersey sold by this fellow. The interesting thing is that I have never spoken to a young man or adult who has been wearing a NBA jersey who knows what team the shirt represents- it is just a very colorful, sleeveless shirt. Even this fellow who sells the jerseys has no idea what they represent in America. I shared with him while looking at his collection that the red one hanging in the corner of his small wooden shop represented the Chicago Bulls and they were a great basketball team in their day. He asked me most sincerely what was basketball? I remember seeing one old basketball a few months back in Abomosu, but it was being used as a soccer ball on a school field. How do you explain NBA basketball to someone when they are kicking the ball with their feet? Obomso has a great collection of jerseys though.

In the town of Kwabeng, there is an older woman who is a member and is the Primary President. She will be somewhere around 60 +. She has a heart of gold and loves the children. Her husband was shot years ago in the hip by a hunter who missed a Grass Cutter (big gofer) and due to infection died shortly afterwards. That was over 20 years ago. She has raised 6 children who still live in the surrounding areas. The missionaries taught her and she saw the truth through the eyes of the primary children and has served in that capacity for over 8 years. She dresses well with beautiful African color dresses and designs, and always wears a golf hat. Yes, a golf hat. We have visited her at her humble home and she is always wearing a golf hat. She has a great collection of golf hats she has collected over the year’s maybe over 20 years I don’t know but a great collection indeed. Every Sunday she wears a different golf hat to church; a beautiful Sunday dress and a golf hat. This last Sunday she sported a lovely peach colored, lacy traditional dress and a black and white checkered golf hat. She conducted the primary program beautifully with all of the children preforming well, while sporting that golf hat all the while. Sister Dalton just couldn’t look at her because she would begin to giggle. I would have to poke her in the ribs to get her to straighten up as we were setting on the stand. Oh. What a picture I have in my mind forever now after that meeting. Bob Hope would be proud!

In Abomosu there is a down-syndrome young man. I’m sure he has been the brunt of some unkind actions and words over the years, but he has weathered the storm. He is in his mid- teens and is just a part of the flavor of our village. We always shake his hand and he bows to us like we were celebrity. Over the years he has associated the missionaries with kindness and a few cents has blessed his life, I’m sure. Usually at night when the town is filled with young people on the streets, they are listening to music someone has “jerry rigged” through a big loud speaker. It is really fun to just watch the folks as we eat a Fan Ice. (ice milk in a bag) This fellow is well known by all who live here because of his rhythm, I mean, he is truly filled with rhythm for the music of Africa. He will usually begin to dance in the middle of the road and a crowd soon surrounds him and is cheering him on. He is great and the moves he performs are precision and the crowd loves him. It is always different moves each time we have seen him and he is truly a sight to watch. It is a God given gift I’m sure and what a gift it is. Others have tried copied his moves but he is the one with the precision and “soul felt” rhythm that is unmistakable his gift only.

What a wonderful world we live in and the people we meet and get to know make life colorful. Oh how Father loves us all and even those just a bit different than the norm.

     

"...we will walk in his path..."

This past week I walked a path with an elderly brother of the Kwabeng branch to his small Cocoa farm. It was lush and the trees where old and full of Cocoa pods. I was taught how to harvest the cocoa bean and prepare the beans for market. All Cocoa is sold to the government and then exported for refinement for the wonderful chocolate we all love. This man is just one of many generations who have worked this farm and harvested of their labor. As I was following him on this well beaten path, I marveled at the number of humble feet who have walked this way to the rich life-giving earth they have tilled for generations. I asked my friend “how long have people used this path to reach their farms?” As we walked in silence for a short distance, he stopped and turned around and took me by the hand and said “my family has walked this exact path to our farm for over 1000 years”. We stood for that split second as his words sank in. We began again to walk the path as generations have before. For the next 20 minutes, as I followed this brother carrying a bunch of Plantain on his head and I carrying a bunch of Plantain on my back, not much was said. I saw in my mind’s eye a long line of Africans walking this path along my side. They were all carrying vegetables, fruits, cassava, plantain, and firewood on their heads. I saw children following behind also carrying food stuffs on their little heads. I love the scene as it unfolded and revealed to me the truthfulness of this humble brother who was leading Sister Dalton and me. What a lesson of tradition, honor, and humility was granted me that day.

                What paths of life are we walking that have been walked by others for 1000 years? I can think of one in my own life that I believe will qualify. I have a heritage of ancestors who have always feared and loved God. Many during the middle ages fought for the right to praise God. I know that has been a contributing factor for my sound trust in God. They were hard workers who carved out an earthly living tilling the ground. They loved the earth and the bounteous goodness of the grace of God. As a young boy, not a member of the Church, we said “grace” over our food. Why, because it was a path my parents had walked with their parents and so on down the generations of time. Do our minds ponder these glimpses that we all have on the path we walk?

                “…come follow me..” the Savior said as he beckoned those that looked upon a simple man. Some of our traveled paths are worn with humble feet that feel the beckoning words of the Shepard. Some path travelers carry their little ones on their back wrapped tightly with care. Other followers of the path are carrying the nourishing food for the strength to till the earth; and a few still follow because of family tradition, but without heart. One thousand years to follow a path that is not dear to one’s heart is a drudgery to say the least, yet sometimes we find ourselves exactly there for no reason. I testify as we have lived here in the bush region of Ghana, we have witnessed those paths tread by many who have come to the words of the Good Shepard; they even are carrying their brother on their shoulders and are an example of Godly love for all sons and daughters of Heavenly Father. I pray your 1000 year old path will be as enlighten by the love of God as I walked a 1000 year old footpath to a small Cocoa farm in Kwabeng, Africa this past week.    

Yeboah Family

"...neither is the man without the woman in the Lord..."

“I’m a farmer and don’t know much of God. My wife lives in the Northern Region and she is not here. I know small, small English and I go to my farm to work”. These were the words of Atta Yeboah to Elders Dominic and Edwards as they contacted him. Yet they felt as if the Father had prepared this man to hear the words of Christ. The missionaries went to the farm with him one day and planted Peppi along his side. They gently loved this man into the fullness of the gospel they are here to preach. The lessons were long and sometimes slow but the Light of Christ was again fanned with the whisperings of the Holy Spirit testifying of their words. He reads slowly in the Book of Mormon and yet feels the love promised to all that will open their hearts. Dressed in white, he entered the font and received the words of salvation from one who holds the power to unlock the heavens for he and his family. Tenderly he was immersed in the waters of repentance and raised up as one ready for the cleansing of the Holy Ghost to enter his life. That following Sunday he traveled to the Northern Region to bring his wife and son back to his home in Abomosu. He testified of his newly found “pearl of great price” to his now reunited family. On July 3^rd he received the Gift of the Holy Ghost and the cleansing wash promised to us all.

Timid but faithful to his commitments, he attended Church. Members wrapped their arms around him and taught him of brotherly love for all of Heavenly Fathers children. It was that week the flood came to this area and Atta’s entire farm was lost. His livelihood and food supply was wasted in just a matter of hours. For over 3 weeks he could not see the soil of his heritage or feed his family from his labors. The Church members came to his house within one day of the flooding, and checked on the family’s well-being and delivered corn donated by others that had plenty. His wife was so impressed that members sought them out and shared their small, small food portions. Atta commented to me one day months later, of his deep rooted testimony of the truthfulness of this gospel by the acts of kindness offered during those trying times. Though he needed help himself, he harvested Cassava alongside his priesthood quorum members, to be given to members in need. When he came home after that service, there was fresh corn and 2 large Cassava at his door step. The Lord knew his family and blessed them for their faith. “…and are willing to bear one another’s burdens…” was perfectly planted in Atta’s heart and actions.

The Elders continued to nurture the family with the good word of God and both Patricia and their son Prince were prepared for baptism. This would be a joyous time for all of the missionaries as well as the branch, for you see, very, very seldom do whole families come into the Church together, even within a few years, here in Africa. But this was a choice family the Lord had prepared before the world was. Atta was conferred the Aaronic Priesthood and now could take his beloved wife and son into the same waters of repentance that he had entered a few weeks before. A date was set and preparations were made and his wife, 3 days before the date, shared a miracle with Atta, “we are having a baby.” Excitement filled his heart and the home that night as they had not had a child since their son some 16 years ago. The decision was made to postpone her baptism until she felt comfortable and farther along in the pregnancy. On the set date, Sept 23rd, Atta took his son into the font and with his right arm to the square, he pronounced the words that would unlock Prince’s future with Father in Heaven. It was an occasion we shall never forget.

This past Friday Oct. 28, 2011 at 5:24PM, missionaries, presidents, high councilmen, priesthood brothers, and a numbers of sisters from the Abomosu Branch, with tears in our eyes, gathered around an open air font. Atta Yeboah dressed in sacred whites, raised his arm squarely and spoke the words of salvation. “Patricia Boakyewaa, having authority of Jesus Christ, I baptize you in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost. Amen” So reverently, gently, and full of love for his companion, she was laid in the water so clear and raised again to a new life. Today the Holy Ghost was conferred, and her transgressions of old were swept away through the Atoner who loves us all. Atta Yeboah’s family is now on the path and holding fast to the Iron Rod, faithfully pressing forward to Oct. 30, 2012 where they will kneel, still holding fast to the Rod of Iron, and humbling partake of the fruit of the Tree of Life. Sister Dalton and I will witness yet another miracle that sacred day.

(The picture above is this family at Patricia’s baptism)

...for I know that ye shall have my words....

We apologize for the delay of our blog entry this week. It is the rainy season now and over the last few days it has rained every day and night. Some rivers have over flowed again but not like we experienced in June. We have been without power most days and nights and clean water has been scares due to no power for so long. We have only heard of one couple who were stranded at their farm and they are to be recused today. It is a common time of the year to experience these continued rains with minor flooding. On top of that, our computer failed us and we were unable to have it repaired until today. Oh the wonders of technology in the bush! We have heard of some severe flooding in the Ho region (5 hours to the east) and we have been in contact with the Lyons, who serve there, about their challenges. They have been troopers for the first month of their mission with all kinds of new things to experience. We hope our prayers and sharing some of our experiences have helped them with their flooding issue.

We have received a number of new Elders to the North Zone over the last 4 weeks; 3 “greenies”, 1 new Zone Leader, a new District leader and three new trainers. It has occurred to me of the similarities and differences of serving a full time mission as a 19 year old. When I served in 1968, our mode of communication was strictly by hand written letter. We had no cell phones or computers. It usually reached anywhere in America within 7 to 10 days. Sister Dalton has written to our grandchildren and mailed them 4 weeks ago from Abomosu, and they still have not been received them. The missionaries in this mission are expected to write home on their P-day (Mondays) using an internet café or the church computer. We have 4 Elders that use the Church computer or our computer when the power is down. We have an Elder who has been out for 4 weeks, one 9 months, 19months and one 20 months. I have observed their writing habits on P-days over the months. Those that are “long in the tooth” usually take on average between 30- 45 minutes each. You know, the letter to home “all is well” and not much more just to keep mother happy. They also very seldom receive any handwritten letters from the states, if so, it is from Aunt Mabel who always brings Fruit Cake to the Christmas party. I also see that they are writing quick letters to some of their friends serving missions in some other part of the world. They have shared some of the testimonies these other missionaries have written and they beam with excitement that they have struggles just like we do here, yet they are staying true and faithful to the work. Then there are those that have not been out over a year and they take 1 ½ hours to write to home and these letters tend to be much more informative of their plight here in the bush and the challenges of companions and a sprinkling of a family they may be working with. They also receive handwritten mail more frequently so they make sure Sister Dalton and bring the mail from the mission home when we travel there. I have seen even a letter or two from some young lady who is attending BYU or Uof U. Then there are those that have been out for less than 6 months. They are on the computers for 2 plus hours writing all things to mother and pleading for candies, special recipes, baby powder, new belt and ties or other clothing items. This group is far more likely to still be receiving handwritten mail from the states. They even still handwrite some letters and have us take them when we travel to the mission home for the pouch service. This group has many letters and packages! We are always on their radar when we are traveling to Accra and when we return. Some have even asked us to call them when we pick up a package from the Mission home so they will know about what time we will be arriving. I see that they have many letters from young ladies who write faithfully between dates, or on Sunday nights after a fireside. They still speak of events at home and usually know the scores of the BYU and UofU games. Those missionaries from Africa who are serving in our mission only use the computer. VERY seldom have we delivered a handwritten letter to any of them. They are more connected with family and friends in their ward or branch from where they are from. None of them have girlfriends at home.

Now, I love teasing all of the missionaries about girlfriends, and when a “Dear John” is received, it is known throughout the zone in minutes. I would like to share one such experience that was shared with me. This Elder had served for several months. He took some ribbing from a number of us about his girlfriend back home. One time as Elder and Sister Baker picked up the mail, he noticed 7 letters, from one young lady attending BYU, were sent on the same day. He commented to Sister Baker that this would be a “special delivery” to this Elder. The elder even called the Bakers on the way home to ask about mail. Elder Baker dutifully delivered them on their way home that night and he was truly excited. None of the other Elders had mail so he was top of the heap. Elder Baker spoke to him the next day as they were waiting for an appointment and he shared his tale of woe. He opened the first envelope, each had a number (he didn’t pick up on that at all), and was thrilled with what was in that letter. He went through each letter and was tantalizing the missionaries in his apartment with extracted tid-bits. Finally the last was opened with great anticipation by all. All juices were flowing by then and then it happened, “I have found a wonderful returned missionary who has asked me to marry……..” Now this Elder was in the dumps for a week or so and all was well after that, but don’t we enjoy these lessons of life? 

"...and bear testimony of the truth in all places..."

As he occupied the pulpit, I marveled at his fervent testimony of prayer. Raised in the Pentecostal Church, his only exposure to personal prayer was through the minister and his praises to their God. “I struggled to feel the spirit” he said and continued in his Twi language as he told the story of his conversion. “As an active member of this villages governing council, and by virtue of my position as the presiding bishop of the districts Pentecostal Church, I was looked up to as a man of God; though I was not one of those described by Alma in the Book of Mormon, “First the rich and the learned, the wise and the noble….” I was rich with many farms of Cocoa. I was learned in the ways of the world and in speaking to convince the people of my beliefs. I was wise in that I knew who my enemies were and how to conceal my true intentions, and I was noble with rich tribunal heritage who were tyrants to the people.” There is not a soul in this village that has not been touched by this man directly or indirectly in some way, either for good or for evil, over the years. “I was proud of my filthy wealth and showed that often in riotous living and fine dress. I mocked the people of other churches and social status. I took advantage of my neighbor and robbed the poor.” Could this be the same man bearing testimony of how prayer changed his life? He continued with soft tender feels of thankfulness expressed in his native tongue. “I one day looked into my soul as if not to be in my body. I was a wretched man and had no feeling towards God. I would preach at the top of my voice and sing louder than the congregation just to drown out my emptiness and demons within. I had only known of memorized prayers to offer, yet to whom, I did not know.” His speaking stopped as he bowed his head. There was that several seconds that all was quite in the chapel. I watched with intensity to the scene that unfolded, of a humble man who was just sustained by over 490 faithful saints at our District Conference, as the first High Councilor, ever, in the Abomosu District. “ I am not a pioneer of this faith, I am not a wealthy man as before, I am not a influential man as I once was, and I am not a proud man of my past. Yet I welcome your show of hands in a sustaining sign that God has forgiven me and caused me to be who I am today. He answered my humble prayer 7 years ago when I fell to my knees and sobbed for relief of this life I had lead and to know the true God.” He continued, “He knows me, and I now know him, and his joyous ways of love. I have learned to hold fast to the Iron Rod even when partaking of the sweet fruit or the love of God. We must always holdfast to that word of God called the Iron Rod, for as we do, we are washed by the atoning sacrifice of our brother Jesus Christ.” With tears of joy on his and our cheeks, he continued. “I submit myself to this grand work of the Lord. It will bring salvation, it will bring family unity, it will bring peace to your troubled mind, it will bring direction for your life, and most important is it will bring you to your previous knowledge of the love God has for his sons and daughters. I pray your individual suppers with the Lord be as filling and ever flowing as mine have been over these last 7 years. I humbly bear my testimony of the Savior’s atonement and the cleansing power that lies within his love. In the name of Jesus Christ, my brother, Amen.” There was a silence as he stepped from the stand and took his seat in the rear of the building. President Oppong, who was conducting, even waited until the moment passed that we had all witnessed, before rising to the pulpit and proceeding with the remaining program.

And thus we see “that by small means the Lord can bring about great things”. Our greatest blessing in life is the knowledge, power, and fully immersing ourselves in the wonders of the atonement. Offered to all men who will freely sup with Him, with His arms extended open to bond or free, rich or poor, learned or uneducated. I testify of the love that only He can afford us all and the mighty miracles that change men’s lives for the Shepard’s work - even Alex Agyei, the first Abomosu District High Councilor.  

                

Since we have arrived here in Ghana on our mission, we have shared a Family Home Evening with several families in the District. They have been wonderful and a bonding experience for Sister Dalton and me with these families. We have left some of these sharing times with tears of happiness and sometimes tears of sadness with the stories we have heard of family trials. But each and every time we are truly buoyed up with the Spirit testifying of the truthfulness of this inspired program. The Family Night program was introduced in September of 1961 but re-emphasized and designated as a Monday night Church wide program in the October General Conference 1964.

We see Satan’s determination, ever since, to pull the family down and destroy the family unit. It will be his influence that caused Monday Night Football on TV’s which began in 1969; even here in Ghana, Monday night is the night for most Football (soccer) matches local or national. This is by design I’m sure, and we have seen the devastated effects of this counterfeit. There is betting on these matches and Monday is the day for that practice. Though we do not have many TV’s here in the bush, there are a few at the Chop Bars and the liquor palaces.  We see a number of people gathered around a small set watching with intent the match that is playing; yelling when goals are scored and grumbling when there are missed goals. Gambled money is exchange at the end of these matches and we have witnessed some of our members involved with this practice. It hurts our hearts to see families suffer because of a counterfeit “gathering for Family Night”. Yet there are families who embrace the evening with their family and gather them close to be spiritually fed and cords of love tightly knit together. It is rewarding and of most important in this day and age of heightened effort of the deceiver and his host.

This week Sister Dalton and I shared a Family Home Evening with the Seth and Sandra Amoh family in Kwabeng. It was one of those Family Home Evenings we drove away with tears of gladness and thanksgiving for our experience. They have four sons,Manfred-14, Kingsley- 9, Kenneth-4, and Seth-2. We have always brought the lesson and the treats on each occasion. This was a time that Brother and Sister Amoh were especially excited to share a special review of a previously held Family Home Evening. At a Sacrament meeting in Kwabeng three weeks earlier, I had challenged the members to step up their referrals for the missionaries and witnessed of their importance to our missionary work. I had also mentioned that Sister Dalton and I had planned for 40 years to serve together on this mission. We even had a date set, and though changed a time or two over the 40 years, we were always true to our covenant with the Lord to serve a fulltime mission. I mentioned, that as a family during a Family Night setting, a prayerfully considered commitment from father and mother announced to the children and then a sign stating that set date to enter into the service, posted on the wall, would cement that fact to the whole family. Children would feel father and mother’s commitment to the Lord and would want to emulate their commitment in their own lives when 19 or 21. Sister Dalton and I were escorted into their small gathering room by the children who carried our bags and all of the treats. Carefully we were seated in plastic chairs across from the family picture wall. Kenneth and Seth were most interested in the treats we had brought as most young boys are, so Sister Dalton kept a tight hold on the Ghana Chocolate Cake. Brother Amoh conducted and Sister Amoh said the opening prayer. Kingsley led the singing and Manfred set next to Sister Dalton keeping a watchful eye on the treats. Brother Amoh then unveiled a special hand crafted picture to be placed on the family picture wall. It was a computer made statement on regular sized white paper surrounded by a handmade frame. It read, “Seth and Sandra Amoh will prepare and commit to serve a fulltime mission September 2031”. It was then carefully mounted above all the family pictures on the wall.   I was so overtaken with emotion I arose and hugged each of them for their faithfulness to the Lords call. Tears flowed freely and I don’t recall a time I tried so hard to compose myself. These humble folks were ready and willing to follow the Prophets counsel to prepare and serve a mission wherever called. They have very little, but what they do have they committed it all to the building of the kingdom of God. I have reflected upon that evening several times this week as we have visited other homes and recommitted less- actives to come back to the feast offered to us all.

My lesson went well with the family; Seth’s little fingers would occasionally creep under the tinfoil and bring out a morsel of cake; mother would try to keep the little ones quite or still most of the evening; Sister Dalton and I sang a duet of two Primary songs while Kenneth stood next to us with a songbook, upside down, singing along; and father setting as if all is well. Can we all relate to such an evening? Long after the Monday night roar of crowds and the spectacular physical feats witnessed during a football game, will be a humble lesson taught to Sister Dalton and I, when a sign was raised on a wall in a humble home in Kwabeng Ghana, committing their all to the Lord. We witness to the importance of this wonderful work and the blessings that come to those that covenant to serve with all of their might, mind and strength. May each of us be more committed in whatever part of the Lord’s vineyard we are assigned, is our prayer.