Gospel Story Finder

Let me tell you of an experience I had with one of our Area Presidents. We were in a land where, to our knowledge, there was not a member of the Church among the millions of that nation.
There was a man who knew of the Church and desired baptism. He had been a longtime student of the Bible. He belonged to a Christian church but was not satisfied. The thought came into his mind that he should belong to a church that carried the name of the Savior. In an old encyclopedia in a public library, he found listed The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints with headquarters in Salt Lake City. He wrote a letter of inquiry and received a response with literature. Other literature followed as he requested it.
When we met him he had read the Book of Mormon again and again. He had read the Doctrine and Covenants and other Church writings. With enthusiasm he had told his friends of his treasured find. He asked to be baptized.
We questioned him. He knew of the priesthood, its orders and its offices. He knew of the various ordinances and the procedures of our meetings.
Did he believe the Book of Mormon to be the word of God? Oh, yes, he knew it to be true. He had read it. He had prayed about it and pondered. He had no doubt of its truth.
Did he believe Joseph Smith to be a prophet of God? Most assuredly. Again, he had studied and prayed. He was convinced of the reality of that glorious vision when God the Eternal Father and His Beloved Son, the resurrected Lord, appeared to the boy Joseph to usher in a new and final dispensation of gospel truth.
The priesthood had been restored with all its gifts and powers. He knew that. Our friend asked for baptism and hoped for the priesthood that he might teach and act with proper authority.
“But,” we said, “if we baptize you and then leave, you will be left alone. While there are many Christians in your nation, and freedom of religion is guaranteed under its laws, there are severe restrictions concerning foreigners. There will be no one to teach you and help you. There will be no one on whom you can lean.”
He responded, “God will teach me and help me, and He will be my friend and support.”
I looked into the eyes of that good man and saw the light of faith. We baptized him under the authority of the holy priesthood. We confirmed him a member of the Church and bestowed upon him the Holy Ghost. We baptized his wife. We conferred upon him the Aaronic Priesthood and ordained him to the office of priest so that under proper direction they might have the sacrament.
We held a sacrament and testimony meeting with them. We embraced them and said good-bye to one another, and tears were in our eyes. They left to return to their home, and we left for responsibilities in other nations.
I shall never forget him. He is poor in the things of the world. But he is educated—a teacher by profession. I know little of his circumstances. But this I know—when we talked with him, the fire of faith burned in his heart, and our own faith was quickened also.
As we traveled from that scene and there was time to meditate, I wished that faith of his kind was found more widely, both among us and among others. His example has provided a text for me. It is found in the fifth verse of the seventeenth chapter of Luke. Jesus had been teaching his disciples by precept and parable. “And the apostles said unto the Lord, Increase our faith” (italics added).

When I was a young boy, my parents received a gift that became fascinating to my younger brother David and me. The gift was a miniature model of the golden plates the Prophet Joseph Smith received from the angel Moroni. As I recall, the model plates had 10 or so metal pages with words written on them. However, those pages weren’t what caught our attention.
We had been raised hearing the stories of the Restoration. We knew of and had sung in Primary about golden plates hidden deep in a mountainside and delivered by the angel Moroni to Joseph Smith.1 As the curiosity of our young minds stirred, there was one thing we really wanted to see: what was written on the small section of the model plates securely sealed with two small metal bands?
The plates sat on an end table for several days before our curiosity got the best of us. Although we clearly understood that these were not the actual plates Moroni had delivered, we wanted to view the sealed portion. So on several occasions, my brother and I tried using butter knives, old spoons, and anything else we could imagine to pry apart the sealed portion of the plates just enough to see what they contained—but not enough to break the small bands. We were at least smart enough not to leave a trace of our mischievous boyhood curiosity. To our disappointment and frustration, these attempts to “pry at the plates” were always unsuccessful.
I still don’t know what—if anything—was hidden under that sealed portion. But the embarrassing part of our story is that to this day, I have no idea what was written on the portion of the metal pages that was meant to be read. I can only imagine that these pages contained stories of the Restoration and testimonies of Joseph Smith and the Three and Eight Witnesses, who saw the actual plates Moroni delivered.
Knowing the diligent nature of my younger brother, I imagine it very likely that he read all the words written on the model plates in our parents’ home. I, however, ignored those plain and precious truths and instead exerted my effort searching for those things that were not meant to be revealed.

Just for the record, Jay Dee Bateman’s parents do have names. They are Karma and Brent. But anytime they go places with their oldest son, or when they meet anyone connected with Alta High School, where Jay Dee has been a student, they are introduced as Jay Dee’s parents. When they meet someone from the high school football team, or when they go into the fast-food restaurant where their son works, they hear only one thing. “Oh, you’re Jay Dee’s parents.”
“It’s fun to be related to somebody famous,” Karma says, smiling.
Jay Dee Bateman, 19, a priest in the Hidden Valley Second Ward in Sandy, Utah, is like many boys his age. His favorite class in school is weight lifting. He likes to hang out with the cheerleaders. He attends most of the school dances. Just about everybody at school and in his neighborhood knows him. He loves to play with his two younger brothers, and his three younger sisters can persuade him to help them with their chores. At church, when he gives the sacrament prayer, it brings a spiritual tone to the meeting.
Oh, and by the way, Jay Dee was born with Down’s syndrome.
As his parents point out, Jay Dee has never let his limitations keep him from trying new things. But perhaps his finest achievement is something he is able to teach by example. He knows how to make and keep good friends.
One of the biggest challenges most teens face, including LDS teens, is feeling accepted and confident enough to extend themselves and make friends with lots of different people. When the New Era first heard about Jay Dee, we intended to do an article about how a group of LDS kids were able to include a handicapped boy in their circle of friendship. However, when we talked with them about Jay Dee, they told us over and over that the credit was all Jay Dee’s. They said they hadn’t made the first moves or kept the friendships alive. Jay Dee had done it. The article idea changed. We started making a list of rules Jay Dee had taught them about making and keeping friends.
Give everybody a chance. “I met Jay Dee in the seventh grade,” says Jesse Bullock. “I was new in the school and needed a friend. I had him in choir class first period sitting right next to me. We had so much fun in that class. He doesn’t care who you are. He gives you a chance no matter what. That goes for everybody because I’ve been there.”
Call people by name. Jay Dee has a funny little habit of calling people by their whole names. His friends kind of like it. They especially like that he always remembers their names. “Jay Dee always calls you by your first and last name,” says Kendra Dana, student body president of Alta High School. “Often we are in such a hurry we just say hi. We don’t say names. I think that is admirable to be able to call people by name.”
Jared Colton says, “I knew who Jay Dee was, but he just recognized me from football. I gave him a ride one day, and he talked the whole time. When I let him out, he said, ‘Now what’s your name? My mom will want to thank you.’ He’s never forgotten my name.”
Be sociable. “I injured myself in football,” says Aaron Weaver, “and was out for the season. Jay Dee would come to every single practice because he was our team manager for football. We would sit on the bleachers and watch practice and just talk and have fun joking around. He wants to be your friend just as much as you want to be his.”
Don’t be pushy. “Lots of times I gave him a ride home from school,” says Matt Lawson. “He would never ask for a ride. He would be by my locker after last class. He’s not pushy. When I would walk out to the parking lot with him, I would be proud to be walking with him.”
Have a good attitude. “What sticks out most about Jay Dee is his basic attitude about life,” says Jesse. “I’ve never seen him down on himself or anybody else. No matter what troubles he has, he always gets through. A good attitude will invite more people to come to you.”
Be enthusiastic about the things you’re doing. “He was water boy for our football team,” says Jared. “He did that job 110 percent. When there was a timeout, he would sprint out. It wouldn’t matter what job he was given; he would do it all the way.”
Be dependable. “I’d go pick him up from football,” says Brent Bateman, Jay Dee’s dad. “He would be the only kid in the office with all the coaches. During practices, the coaches would send Jay Dee to lunch with some of the rougher football players because they knew that Jay Dee would make sure they did what they were supposed to do. He would bring them back for the second half of practice.”
Give the right kind of affection. “I’ve given more high fives to Jay Dee than to anyone else,” says Jared. “If I say hi, he stops, comes over, and shakes my hand and puts his arm around me. It’s easy to love him.”
Just be yourself. “Jay Dee doesn’t put on a show,” says Jess Arbon. “That’s what has made him so widely accepted. He is just himself around everybody. He’s not fake. He’s just who he is.”
Be accepting of differences. One of Jay Dee’s friends he has known the longest is Suzanna Romney. She and her older sister Quinn got to know Jay Dee in their ward. Even though Jay Dee was a little shy then, these sisters could see his heart of gold. They went out of their way to say hello to him. They have even asked him to be their date at girls’-choice dances. Their example began to spread through their friends and other friends and throughout the school.
“Don’t be afraid to step outside of yourself,” says Suzy. “Maybe it is easier to accept those who have Down’s syndrome or mental disabilities. What about those who aren’t born with handicaps but are just different in their interests or background? We have to not worry about that and accept everyone for the good that is in them.”
It takes practice. “It does take practice to reach outside of yourself,” says Kendra, “but when you are accepting and learn to love, it becomes easier. Things spread. If you go, then your friends will follow. Instead of one person getting to know this person who might need some help, it’s a whole group. It snowballs.”
Jay Dee Bateman has learned the secret of being a good friend. Maybe it was something he just knew inside, but through his example, others are learning the formula for making friends. And they truly care about him.
“During one football game,” says Matt Lawson, “there was a sideline play, and Jay Dee got crushed. Everyone just stopped. We didn’t care what the score was or what was happening with the game. We all helped him up. Every single person came up and asked him how he was. But he just brushed it off.”
Is it worth getting to know Jay Dee, or someone like him? “It seems,” says Jared, “that with all of us who have tried to get to know him, it has been a blessing in our lives. We have all benefitted.”
And that’s why it’s worth knowing Jay Dee. He has uncovered the secret of being a good friend. He just may have to buy nametags for his mother and father to wear. It looks like they’ll be known as Jay Dee’s parents for quite some time.
Amber Baughman, 17, of the Rock Springs (Wyoming) Fourth Ward, has a reputation similar to Jay Dee’s. Like Jay Dee, Amber was born with Down’s syndrome. And like Jay Dee, she’s figured out some ways to make and keep especially close friends.
Include everyone. At girls’ camp, Amber was a bundle of enthusiasm, and she brought a spirit of unity. “Other years, said Tambree Knight, “sometimes one or two girls used to go off for a while on their own, or maybe some would only hang out with their closest friend. But Amber needed everybody. She loved everybody and kept us together. It was really cool.”
Pray for your friends. “Amber zeroes in on feelings,” said Cami Smith. “She has a way of dealing with her friends’ distress that works every time. She prays for them. When Amber prays, she prays for us individually. She asks Heavenly Father to help us be happy again. And while she’s praying, she touches the person she’s praying for, tapping her on the head or on the shoulder. Sometimes she ends her prayers with a hug.”
Really care. Mindy, Amber’s older sister, gets emotional when she talks about going to college and leaving Amber behind. “I just can’t imagine my everyday life without my sister,” she said. But looking after her parents, her sister, and her friends has been Amber’s goal in life, one she does with enthusiasm and great care.
The girls in her ward are quick to agree—it’s nice having a friend like Amber.

While I was president of the mission in Atlanta, Georgia, I went to the study of Dr. Peter Marshall. He was the pastor of the Presbyterian Church there and we spent an hour or two together. When he died he was the chaplain of the United States Senate. You may have read his book, A Man Called Peter, or may have seen the movie depicting his life. Many of the things he stood for he learned from us down in Atlanta. He used to send over to the mission office to get the MIA books and other Church material for his young people because he felt we were stealing them all away from him.

As I sat in his study with him, I asked him what was the attitude of his church with respect to the principle of eternal marriage, and the eternal duration of the marriage covenant. He said, “Well, Mr. Richards, we are not allowed to teach that in our church, but in my mind I have some stubborn objections.” He went on, “When you take the kitten away from the cat, in a few days the cat has forgotten all about the kitten; when you take a calf away from the cow, in a few days the cow has forgotten all about the calf; but when you take the child away from its mother’s bosom, though she live to be a hundred years old, she never forgets the child of her bosom.” He added, “I find it difficult to believe that God created love like that to perish in the grave.” Thank God we know that he didn’t create love like that to perish in the grave. Love is eternal.

One of the Twelve recently shared a story that illustrates this principle. As a priest in high school, he was hanging out with his friends. After they got something to eat, they were driving around when someone suggested they should go to a certain movie. The problem was he knew it was a movie he shouldn’t see. Although he immediately felt pressure and anxiety about the situation, he had planned for this. This was a page straight out of his priesthood playbook.

Taking a deep breath and summoning his courage, he announced, “I’m not interested in that movie. Just drop me off at my house,” which they did. A simple play leading to a victory! Years later, one of the friends with him that night described how this example proved to be a great strength for him to courageously face similar circumstances in his own life.

In a high school not far from here, a young mentally handicapped student we will call Frank wanted so much to be accepted by the popular crowd. He would follow them around, always on the outside looking in, hoping to be included but never achieving it.
One day in the cafeteria, some of the more popular boys and girls encouraged Frank to get up on the table and dance. Thinking he would please them, he did it. In his awkward way, he twisted and twirled. The group yelled, clapped their hands, and laughed. They were laughing at him, and Frank thought they were laughing with him.
A few tables away, Dave was eating lunch with a friend and watching it all. He courageously leaped up, faced that crowd of tormentors, and through clenched teeth said, “I’ve had as much of this as I can stand!” He helped Frank down and said, “Frank, you come and have lunch with us.”
The Savior is counting on you to be a champion of those who need you, and they are all around you—in your school, in your neighborhood, in your family.

It had all begun under the stars and the moon one night in Wyoming in a mad flight of spinning wheels and flying shadows known forever after as the “midnight ride of the Orem 15th.” The quorum was on a camping trip and a few priests brought along their motorcycles. One night about bedtime their adviser, Dave Anderson, jumped into the saddle, called his cohorts to horse, and they flew away over mountains and moonlit meadows like so many Paul Reveres. The night seemed to be alive. More animals than they had ever seen stood watching them pass as if hypnotized by the string of moving lights.
They got back to camp about 2:00 A.M., feeling that they were much more than just a few people assigned to the same quorum. They were friends.
Fired by the enthusiasm of the midnight riders, the whole quorum joined in, and in the weeks that followed they framed a lot of territory between handlebars.

Colin opened an auto mechanic garage called Clark’s Garage and drove the local school bus. When Clark’s Garage became busy, Colin could not spare the time to drive the school bus, so Phyllis stepped up to help. She continued to drive the school bus for the next 40 years.
Phyllis said, “The children have become an addition to my own family. I would see them every day, until they completed grade six and went onto high school. They called me ‘Auntie Phyl’. I still keep in touch with some of them today.”

Katie, a Primary-age girl, taught us as we saw her influence on her family. She attended Primary and was drawn to the teachings of the gospel. With growing faith and testimony, Katie left a note on her parents’ pillow. She wrote that the gospel truths had found a “home in her heart.” She shared her longing to be close to her Heavenly Father, to be obedient to His commandments, and to have their family sealed in the temple. The simple testimony of their sweet daughter touched her parents’ hearts in a powerful way. Katie and her family did receive sacred temple ordinances that bound their family together forever. Katie’s believing heart and example of faith helped bring eternal blessings to her family. Could her sincere testimony and desire to follow the Lord’s plan lead us to see more clearly what really matters most?

I remember the job opportunity that finally came after months of searching during the depression. Unfortunately the work was in an amusement park, and beset with moral hazards. The final decision was mine, but how careful the bishop was to alert me to the problems and obstacles ahead. For the nearly two years I was employed there it was a job requirement to carry a package of cigarettes in my pocket for the convenience of the customers. But not once did I ever forget my bishop’s advice or my parental teaching about the Word of Wisdom. Neither were any of the other temptations able to overpower me.

Dana Miller was approaching his twelfth birthday, looking forward to becoming a deacon. One evening, just prior to his birthday, the front doorbell rang. Dana’s father, a high councilor in the stake, answered the door to find three young men on the porch. “We are the deacons presidency and have come to call on your son, Dana.” Admitting these quorum leaders, Brother Miller retired to another room while the presidency sat down with Dana and outlined his duties and responsibilities as a priesthood holder. That visit had more impact on a boy’s life than hours of counseling from an adult could have. Today Dana is president of the deacons quorum. What kind of a president do you think he is with that kind of an introduction to the priesthood and example from his leaders?

I remember as a child looking at my grandmother’s wrinkled cheeks. Lines creased the corners of her eyes, and tiny lines graced her upper lip. I asked her how I could keep from getting wrinkles.
“Don’t smile,” she said. “And don’t cry.”
I followed her advice—for one day. Then I gave up. How could anyone live without smiling or crying? I decided I’d rather have a face that shows the lines of laughter and tears.

But while Pedro’s academic curiosity and craftsmanship would have made him stand out in any community, one other quality made him unique. There have been few characters in the course of written history with whom faith and fact were synonymous. Pedro was one of these.
Even for those of us who use the term daily, faith is a paradox. Conspicuously absent in many who bear its robes, it sometimes finds a more congenial soil under homespun wool and leather thongs.
At any rate Pedro’s faith was both simple and factual. We had bought a diesel engine that generated electricity for our school and church building. A film arrived from Church headquarters depicting the struggles of early pioneers in southern Utah. President Lorenzo Snow, president of the Church at that time, promised the pioneers that a devastating drought would end if they would pay their tithing.
That year Pedro’s village was experiencing a drought. Potatoes and corn were drooping in despair at the rainy season’s slow arrival.
Pedro arrived the morning after the film was shown to pay ten soles (less than 50 cents) in tithing. He then went home and sat on his porch to wait for the rain.
It rained.

Although Adam likes to have fun, he can be very responsible. Once when Adam, Mandy, and their one-year-old brother, Thomas, were staying with their grandmother, she got very sick and had to lie down on the couch. Adam brought her a glass of water, as he’d seen his mother do. Then he knelt down beside the couch and said a prayer, asking Heavenly Father for help.
When he was finished, he knew just what to do. He brought his grandmother a pillow so that she would be comfortable and gave Thomas and Mandy some toys so that they wouldn’t cry. Then he called his mother, who was working at a nearby hospital. “Grandma doesn’t feel well,” he said. “Could you please come and help?”
Adam tried to keep his brother and sister occupied until his mother came to help. Then he said another prayer of thanks to Heavenly Father.
His grandmother felt much better by the time his mother arrived, but Adam wasn’t surprised. “I knew that Heavenly Father would hear and answer my prayer,” he said.

After World War II on a cold night in a train station in southern Japan, I heard a tap on the train window. There stood a boy wearing the same ragged shirt, a rag tied about a swollen jaw, his head covered with scabies. He held a rusty tin can and a spoon, the symbol of an orphan beggar. As I struggled to open the door to give him money, the train pulled out. I will never forget that hungry little boy standing in the cold, holding up his empty tin can.

Recently, I read a fictional story about two brothers who lived on adjoining farms and fell into conflict. After having shared machinery, goods, and land for decades, their collaboration fell apart. It started with a small misunderstanding which grew into major differences, anger, and weeks of silence.
One morning, a carpenter who was looking for a few days of work knocked on the older brother’s door. “Is there anything I could help you with?” asked the carpenter with his toolbox under his arm.
The older brother said, “Yes! Look across the creek at that farm. That belongs to my younger brother. Last week he dug a wider passage for water and ended up creating a very wide creek between our farms. Please build me something so we don’t have to look at each other’s face from across the creek.”
The carpenter said “I think I understand the situation. I can help you.” With that, the carpenter went to work and spent all day measuring, sawing, and nailing.
At sunset, the elder brother returned to the creek as the carpenter had just finished his task. The brother never could have imagined what he saw. It was a bridge stretching from one side of the creek to the other! It looked beautiful! To his surprise, his younger brother crossed the bridge to meet him with a big smile and his arms wide open to hug him.
“You are really humble and kind, my brother. After all I have done and said to you, you still show that our relationship can never be broken! I am very sorry for my behavior,” the younger brother said as he hugged him.
They turned to see the carpenter hoist his toolbox onto his shoulder. “No, wait! Stay a few days. I have lots of other projects for you,” said the older brother.
“I’d love to stay,” the carpenter said, “but I have many other bridges to build!”

I grew up in Norway. The nearest temple was in Stockholm, Sweden, an 8- to 10-hour drive away. Needless to say, any trip to the temple took careful planning and deliberation. Our stake planned two visits to the temple for the youth each year; several wards would rent a bus and go to the temple for a weekend. It was fun to go with other youth, but my family and I wanted to go to the temple together sometime.

So one year we decided to go to Stockholm during our summer vacation. It was a great experience, and it soon became a pattern for our summers. We would camp at a campground close to the temple. Each morning we would get up early for a baptismal session with other families from Norway who had come to the temple. Afterward we would play football and go swimming at the campground.

These summers are sacred memories for me now. Although we didn’t live close enough to the temple to go there each month, it was always a special occasion when we could go. And even though the car ride was long and tedious, the Lord blessed us for our sacrifice. The spiritual experiences I had at the temple helped me develop my love for the temple and its ordinances. They also brought us closer together as a family.

Gandía, a tiny town in southern Spain, lies nestled against an inlet of the Mediterranean Sea. It is a picturesque village of orange groves, fishing boats, and tourist shops. As a full-time missionary in the Spain Barcelona Mission, I was transferred there in December 1993.
A few months later as Easter approached, I was charmed to see Gandía blossom into spring. The clouds lifted, the skies lightened, and the streets filled with women stopping to chat on their way to and from market. Local festivities included marching bands, parades, and special masses at the little cathedral. And at dusk the air was saturated with the scent of orange blossoms.
My companion and I had become good friends with one of the members in the Gandía Branch, a woman named Doris Kessler. One day she said with a smile, “I gave a Book of Mormon to my neighbor Concha, and she wants to meet you.”
After arranging to visit, we knocked on Concha’s door. A weak voice invited us in. The tiny rooms were dark; windows and shutters were shut tight to retain the inadequate warmth of a small gas heater. A gooseneck lamp illuminated the face of a woman who lay in pain, shivering with cold.
Many years earlier, Concha had suffered a bad fall, breaking bones in both legs. The doctors put screws in her ankles to strengthen them, but additional falls had forced her to accept permanent bed rest. “If you fall again,” the doctors warned, “we will have to amputate.” So except for trips to the grocery store on the ground floor of her building, Concha stayed in bed. She grew discouraged as she gained weight and lost strength.
Like the vast majority of the people of Spain, Concha Femenía Martí was born a Catholic. But in her mature life she had begun to explore other religions. She had enthusiastically accepted a Book of Mormon from Sister Kessler, and now my companion and I began to share the doctrines of the gospel of Jesus Christ with her. Light literally replaced darkness in the little apartment as the words of the discussions touched her heart. Her body relaxed, and her face began to shine.
Concha studied the scriptures, prayed humbly and fervently, and accepted truth upon truth. A member of the branch agreed to stop by for her on Sunday mornings so she could attend Church meetings. She accepted the invitation to be baptized and began saving coins in a little plastic container to make a trip to the temple.
Unfortunately, the Sunday before her baptism, the person who had agreed to pick her up was so busy with other responsibilities he forgot to go after her. We hurriedly found someone else with a car to go, but he did not get far. There in the parking lot stood Concha, gasping and perspiring and leaning heavily on her crutches. She smiled as we ran up to greet her. “I knew something must have happened,” she said. “But I wanted so much to partake of the blessings of the gospel—I wasn’t going to let anything stop me!”
She was not the only person to benefit from her attendance that day. As the members bore their testimonies, many of them expressed gratitude for Concha’s conversion and commitment and rededicated themselves to the Lord.
Three months after her baptism, Concha was sustained as the branch Relief Society president. She continues to prepare for her trip to the temple and shares her testimony with others whenever she can.
When I think about springtime, the Atonement of Jesus Christ, and new beginnings, I always think of Concha and the day she stood on the sidewalk beaming with testimony. I also remember how she looked on a later day—the day she joyfully rose from the waters of baptism, having partaken of that very sacred symbol of rebirth.

When he came to Ghana, his closest friends, family and even his mother thought he was going insane. They asked, “Why would you abandon your studies and come back to Ghana simply because you have met the Church?” He explained that he was taught the gospel of Jesus Christ and he wanted everyone to join. They didn’t understand and many spoke ill about him.
The family lived in Mankessim, in the central region about 1 ½ hour’s drive from Cape Coast. Alison said, “Later we moved to Yamoransa because my daddy had learned that the Church was there, and our family could go to church every Sunday.” The family stayed there for 1 year and Abraham got a job teaching geography at Adisadal College, a secondary school in Cape Coast.
While there, the Abura Branch was formed, and he was made the branch president. The children were all baptized in a river in Mankessim. His next idea was to get his mother and siblings to join the Church. He left Cape Coast and moved to Assin Fosu which is on the Cape Coast Kumasi Highway and is closer to their hometown. “My father went to his hometown almost every day trying to teach them. He wanted them to join so badly,” she said and added “at first, things didn’t go so well. They were heavily involved in their churches. His brothers were in the choir and without them the church would not be as nice. His mother was the treasurer of the women’s group.”
He would fast almost every week for his family. Eventually, his mother, then brothers, then aunts joined the church until about 95 percent of all his family members were part of the Church.
His next goal was to set up an orphanage and school. He adopted 78 of the children and about 40 of them went on missions. Alison and her sisters also served missions.
Alison has a strong admiration for her father. “He is very generous, honest, forgiving and spiritual”, she says, “He was a district president while he served as a parliamentarian. He would drive 4-5 hours each weekend so that he could be back for church”.
She also relates this story about her father:
“One time when I was at home, a man came to the door asking for my father. He was not around. The man gave me an envelope and asked me to give it to him. I thought it was a letter, so I took it and put it under his pillow, which is what we always did with anything that came for him. When he got home and found that envelope, he was very upset, and I heard him screaming from the bedroom. He said, ‘Who put this under my pillow?’
“I told him I had done it. He said, ‘You are my first born and I would expect you to know better’.
“I did not understand what I had done. He said, ‘Take this and give it back to the owner, he is not going to take care of me and my family’.”
“I still did not understand and asked him to explain. He told me it contains money. The man had a problem with his land and my father was trying to help him. The following morning the man came and asked me if I had given my father the money. I told him that if he had told me yesterday that it was a bribe he wanted to give to my father I would have warned him against doing that. I told him that my father was very angry and did not ever want him to enter his office again. If he was the rightful owner of the land, my father would help him without accepting money.”
“When it was time for me to go back to the town where I taught. I asked him if I could use one of his office cars to take me there since he was the district chief executive. He said, ‘the cars at my office are not for family use, they are government cars. I will help you pay for a taxi if you don’t have enough money.’”
Alison shared more thing about her father. “Because he would not be dishonest, some people wanted him out of office. One morning we woke up and there was a can of petrol in front of our house with matches on it. A week later a guy came on his knees apologizing. He said he was hired to burn our house. He had come one night, and it looked like our whole house was sparkling and it scared him, so he ran away. I believe it was an angel of the Lord that stopped him from burning our house down.”
In October 2019, Abraham returned to the United States. One Sunday, he was teaching a lesson at church. There was a man in the class that got up and went out. Unknown to Abraham, this man was a doctor and had called an ambulance. He recognized that Abraham was exhibiting signs of a stroke. The family is so grateful their father went to church that day and that the doctor was there too. Even though he is currently down with a stroke and uses a wheelchair, he still sees himself as blessed and he’s forever grateful to Heavenly Father.
Many people joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints because of Abraham Kwaku Fokuo. His legacy runs deep within the Church and in the communities in which he has lived.

In the town of Drammen, a few miles from Lier, there is a beautiful new branch chapel, and in spite of the busy schedule at school, Bonnie was able to attend Church meetings and participate in branch activities. “When Mr. Gurholt from the school drove me from Oslo to Lier, I thought to myself, ‘Oh, there aren’t any Mormons way out here.’ But there were! And I found that I knew the mission president too. The missionaries lent me their Norwegian books from the Language Training Mission and the sisters invited me to go tracting. I really enjoyed that. Several of my friends at school even agreed to have the missionary lessons, and one family was baptized shortly after I left Norway.”