She is a middle aged woman who is full of life and her spirit radiates the Saviors love. Setting in an old wooden chair in front of her mud block home, she greets me with her extended hand, “Akwabaa, Akwabaa” repeated with a smile. She is setting at an angle on her right side with bare feet that are twisted and bent without strength. Her legs are small and spindly. Her dress is a flower print pattern that is a cheerful reminder to her and her neighbors of her love of life. Two other women are talking with her as they set in front of their homes within the compound; they are chatting with friendly voices. But when I come they all buzz with activity, sweeping the dirt area around where they share conversation. A plastic chair is brought to me and I set down next to Elizabeth. We share our greetings as I hold her hand in both of mine hands. Her fingers are bent and stiff; her nails are yellowish orange from years of rubbing them together while her fingernails are clean and trimmed regularly. Her arms are strong with muscles defined from constant use; a simple and complete spirit who is surrounded in a broken body.
We share deep feelings of how six years earlier she was a strait and tall standing woman, mother of two sons, and wife of an honorable farmer. Life was grand and the future bright for her family. Then one day an accident occurred while at the farm, changing her countenance forever. Her husband has never returned after traveling shortly after the accident. Her two sons have moved and have not visited for over 3 years. Mother and Father have long passed away and no brothers or sisters live in the region. Alone, she began her life of pain and agony within her tender soul. Then one day 14 months ago, two missionaries came into her living compound and shared a book that caused her heart to leap within her being. Though she could not read, she held that book until a month later a neighbor child began to read to her each day after school. The words were familiar to her soul and she continued through this most precious gift until completed June 11, 2011. Beginning January 2011, she would dress herself and with the strength and support of angels, she wheeled her wheelchair down the dusty back roads of Asamankese to the chapel each and every Sunday. Most times arriving before the services began. Relief Society sisters began to befriend her and she folded into the fabric of the branch. Soon a calling was extended in the Relief Society and for the last 5 months she has taught on the third Sunday of each month. She attended literacy classes and now speaks English small small but enough with exactness we both feel comfortable in our conversation.
Our exchange was of heart to heart, tender to the both of us as tears welled up in our eyes at times. She spoke of her love for the Book of Mormon and though the cover was missing, she held it close to her breast with reverence. She shared of new found friends who will visit occasionally and help her with some immediate needs. She softly speaks of the Saviors blessings and love she has felt in her life. Tears roll upon her cheeks as she tells how she misses her sons. A mother’s love is eternal and I witnessed that through her story. We sat for over an hour conversing in a most intimate way of deep feelings for the missionaries now long gone and the gospel of Christ that has pierced her very soul. It was beautiful indeed and forever printed in my heart.
The date was confirmed and the time set for our return to the Asamankese chapel. We would meet again; this time dressed in white, and fully prepared to be baptized with authority. Elder Boateng and I were asked to baptize this wonderful daughter of Father. Oh, how my heart pounded as she kissed my hand as we departed that sunny morning.
Gently and carefully Elder Boateng and I carried her into the water filled font. Over 40 branch members were present for this most joyous occasion. Elder Boateng held most of her body weight as I raised my arm to the square and repeated those most sacred words as did John in Jordan, “Elizabeth Kwakyi, having been commissioned…” I gazed into her eyes, they now glassine with the cleansing and eternal power of baptism. Her broad smile filled my soul as her hand softly touched my cheek and she uttered the words so softly, “thank you, thank you, thank you”.
(the picture above is Elizabeth Kwakyi)
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