",,,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.”