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 5th 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.
No comments:
Post a Comment