Garth and Sandy Rule the World: Leaving Tonga: Some things we'll miss....and some we won't

As Garth and I quickly approach the day we will leave Tonga and our mission, we have talked about things we will miss - and some things that we won't.

We will DEFINITELY miss the sunshine and warm weather as we contemplate moving to Rexburg, Idaho - or as Garth likes to call it...Hoth (you know, the cold, perpetual winter planet in Star Wars?). I, for one, am not looking forward to the windy, sub-zero winters of southeast Idaho. But, I am looking forward to being closer to family, and having warmer summers where I can grow TOMATOES!! and CORN ON THE COB!! and lots of other veggies we can't grow in Juneau. Leaving Juneau, however, is a story all on its own, and one I don't want to think about right now....and maybe won't even think about for a long, long time...until I have to get on a plane and actually leave. And maybe not even then.

Back to Tonga.....One thing I will NOT miss is the 100% humidity, 90+ degree, still, stifling, breezeless, need to take a shower five minutes after getting out of the shower because you're all drenched in sweat again days of summer. I'm more of a cool to semi-warm kinda girl. And the summer rain showers (or storms - summer IS cyclone season - another thing I won't miss...that is cyclones. I kind of really like the heavy rain storms that come thundering down the street towards you sounding like a great locomotive) only adds MORE humidity to the air. No...I will DEFINITELY NOT miss the summer heat and humidity.

One thing I will miss terribly is the ocean. I have lived near the ocean now for nearly 30 years. It is a part of me. When I'm feeling depressed, or upset, or like the world is too loud and my brain needs some quiet time away from all the noise, I find peace at the ocean. I'm not sure how I'm going to survive leaving it behind. And the warm waters of Tonga are a delight. I'm going to miss all the shell gathering (I don't think Garth will miss that - I have gathered BUCKETS of shells while in Tonga), the long, leisurely walks on the beach with the breeze keeping you cool and comfortable.

I will miss seeing my Dad every day. Serving with him has truly been a blessing and an experience I will always be grateful for. I loved watching him interact with the missionaries as he served them, unlocking doors of MQs where keys got locked in, fixing plumbing, buying curtains, buying cleaning supplies, driving missionaries to dentist and doctor appointments, driving them to the temple or to meetings, picking them up from all over the island of Tongatapu and driving them wherever they needed to go, sometimes in the wee hours of the morning, sometimes late at night, and always during the daylight hours. He never complained about the long hours he put in.

He was known all over the island as Hiki Nima (the waving man). When people saw his van they would wave or yell, "Elder Berger." He always had a smile, and often gave them chocolate kisses he carried around in his pocket.

Dad, Sister DeeAnn Mitchell, and Sister Marsha Aland

He was also known as the "banana man." He was always out buying bananas. He loved that you could buy an entire stalk of bananas for 10 pa'anga or less. He'd hang them on his back porch and then deliver them to everyone around him, including the mission office where the missionaries would scarf them down. If you found a bunch of bananas on your doorstep you knew Elder Berger had been there.

He has always been, and will continue to be, an example to me of someone who loves serving the Lord.

I will definitely miss the singing. Everyone in Tonga sings. And they sing anywhere and any time. The church choirs are amazing. They are not shy when it comes to singing. The sound of their voices can be heard at LEAST a block away. They sing with their whole heart. I will miss the quiet, but uninhibited, singing of the passerby as they slowly make their way along the sidewalk in front of our house. I will miss hearing the Hymns of Zion sung by families staying at Temple Housing who gather outside on a warm, quiet, summer evening.

I will NOT miss the sound of the ubiquitous crowing rooster, or the ever free-roaming snarling, fighting dogs, who decide to raise their voices at every hour throughout the night, each and EVERY night. Who knew roosters were such poor time keepers. Or, maybe it's just that they have poor eyesight, and can't actually see that at 2:00 a.m. it's very dark outside, and the early morning sun's pale golden rays have not yet begun to peek over the horizon.

I will miss seeing all those cute little roly-poly baby pigs running around all over Tonga. They are so darned cute. And I'll miss seeing the little baby chicks cheeping and following their mamas. There always seems to be an independent one among the group, however. Always trying to go off on his own and Mama having to cluck him back into the fold. You can almost make out her words, "You'd better get back here, Mister. Or your father will hear about this when he comes home."

And I'll miss the children, and they're wave and quick "Bye" as you approach....and again as you depart. I'll miss their angelic faces, their engaging smiles, and their beaming, large, dark brown eyes.

Most of all, however, we will miss the people of Tonga. Garth and I have long loved the Kingdom of Tonga and her people. There are many Tongans who live in our home of Juneau, Alaska, and many of them are dear friends. We will miss their generosity, their warmth, the genuine joy that radiates from their faces when they smile, their ability to find happiness in everything, their great faith, their beautiful brown skin.

The staff at the Niutoputapu hospital

Three of my favorite ladies - Sister Huni, Sister Va'enuku, and Sister Funaki

The Lino family from Niutopatapu

I have had many experiences with these wonderful people that have caused me to have such great love for them. But, two stand out as perfect examples. They truly live the commandment, “Love thy neighbor as thyself.”

In April 2010 my youngest sister came to Tonga as part of a group of nurses from BYU-Idaho. While sightseeing at Hufangalupe, their teacher, Sister Lee, fell to her death.

The arch at Hafangalupe

In the days following Sister Lee’s death, my sister, along with her fellow nursing students, experienced something amazing. As they worked to complete the commitments they had made at clinics around Tongatapu, the people of Tonga went out of your way to talk to them and ease their suffering. They hugged them, and cried with them. They fed them, housed them, and loved them.

There was a young man, newly married, who helped drive them when they went sightseeing. He was there with them at Hufangalupe. He spent his nights sleeping on the floor at the foot of Brother Lee’s

bed, so Brother Lee would not be alone.

They reached out to Brother Lee and these girls – total strangers – and made them one of them, treated them like family. Their love and generosity has changed these ladies forever. I will be forever grateful to them for taking care of my sister so well.

Three months later, in July 2010, our oldest son passed away. He lived in Sitka, a town not far from Juneau, but accessible only by plane or boat. A dear friend quickly flew us to Sitka so we could be with Jon’s wife and infant daughter. We returned to Juneau a few days later to plan Jon’s funeral. As we came out of the departure lounge at the airport we were met by an amazing sight. Over 50 of our Tongan friends, including President and Sister Tupou and many of President Tupou's family, were there to welcome us home, so we would not have to arrive home alone. Our tears flowed, and were mingled with theirs, as they hugged us and held us close.

Throughout the next week they lent us vehicles for our out of town family members. They visited us often.

The night before Jon’s funeral they held a feast for our family. There was a concern that they would not be able to get enough lu (taro leaves for making lupulu and lusipi) from California….at least enough of the BEST lu. So, one of the men who worked for Alaska Airlines was prepared to fly overnight to Hawaii and back to ensure we had enough lu. And, of course, there was lu to spare. There is always more than enough to eat at a Tongan feast.