CHARACTER

I had to say goodbye to two wonderful friends this week.  The longer I stay here, the harder it is to say goodbye.  And this goodbye was particularly difficult because this couple returned to their home in Melbourne, Australia, and it’s very likely I will never see them again.  Elder and Sister F. spent only six months here, but in that time they won my heart with their plain speaking, their patience, and their love. He is a 78-year old retired woodworking teacher who has the patience of Job, and she is a 75-year old plain-speaking Scottish descendant who has more skill with children than most professional teachers.  

You don’t know these two.  I understand that.  But you know their type.  A Scottish poet by the name of Robert William Service (how terrific would it be to carry THAT family name?) described them in a poem written long before these two were born:

A Character 

How often do I wish I were

What people call a character;

A ripe and cherubic old chappie

Who lives to make his fellows happy;

With in his eyes a merry twinkle,

And round his lips a laughing wrinkle;

Who radiating hope and cheer

Grows kindlier with every year.

For this ideal let me strive,

And keep the lad in me alive;

Nor argument nor anger know,

But my own way serenely go;

The woes of men to understand,

Yet walk with humour hand in hand;

To love each day and wonder why

Folks are not so jocund as I.

So be you simple, decent, kind,

With gentle heart and quiet mind;

And if to righteous anger stung,

Restrain your temper and your tongue.

Let thought for others be your guide,

And patience triumph over pride . . .

With charity for those who err,

Live life so folks may say you were--

God bless your heart! --A Character

Fair winds and following seas, Elder and Sister F.  I love you.  Thank you for being Characters in my life.  When I grow up, I want to be a Character.  

THE FAITH OF A CHILD

Now and then a Primary child speaks in church here in Tonga.  Recently little 9-year old ‘Ofa (means “love”) spoke about the power of prayer.  I offer her story in her own words (edited with her mother):

When I was six, I found out how important prayer is.  My family van was broken, and my mom was sick.  It was raining very hard, and the wind was very strong.  I had no raincoat, I had no umbrella.  My family had no telephone to call a taxi to take me to school.    It was very important for me to go to school that day, because I had a test to take.  But this was a hard day, because there was no help for me. I didn't want to get wet on the way to school and have to spend the whole day in wet clothes - I might get sick.

My dad had already left to go to work, and I was very sad.  I stood beside my mom and cried.  But then I got a very strong feeling that I should say a prayer.  I looked at my mom.  She told me we needed to kneel down and say a prayer together. Even though I was still crying, I said the prayer.  I asked Heavenly Father, “Please help me go to school today.”  

Even before I finished my prayer, I could hear that the rain had stopped.  I said “Amen” and looked out the window.  The wind was still blowing very hard.  The sky was still dark,  but there was no rain.  My brother, my mom and I stood in the doorway and said another prayer, this time thanking Heavenly Father for stopping the rain.  My brother and I ran all the way to school.

As soon as  I entered my classroom, the heavy rains began again, and continued all morning.  Because of this experience, my faith grew.  I knew after that day that I have a loving Heavenly Father who hears and answers my prayers.   My mom told me that President Kimball used to compare prayer to an umbrella or raincoat to protect us from danger.  On that day when I was six, I found out that I didn’t need an umbrella or a raincoat, as long as I remembered to pray, and exercise my faith.

I testify that Heavenly Father answers prayers.  I know the power of prayer.  I am now working on my Faith in God program, and because of prayer, I feel I am closer to my Father in Heaven, and I can feel that he really loves me. 

This little message brings me peace, because it makes me remember that God knows each one of us by name.  We are truly his children, and because he is a loving Father, he knows our names, he knows what we need (and not just what we want), and he knows how and when to help us.  Thank heaven for little girls who teach me such wonderful things.  

LET YOUR LIGHT SHINE

This is a poem by Marianne Williamson, called "Our Greatest Fear."  I have had it posted on my bulletin board in my office for months now.  

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our own darkness, that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, "Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and famous?"

Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.
Your playing small does not serve the world.
There's nothing enlightened about shrinking 
      so that other people won't feel insecure around you.

We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It is not just in some of us, it's in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give 
     other people permission to do the same.

As we are liberated from our own fear,
Our presence automatically liberates others.

LAND OF LIGHT

Living in the tropics where days do not shorten and lengthen as much as they do in more temperate latitudes, I have come to rely on the rhythms of the sun to measure my day.  If I wake up and the sun is above the trees, I know I’ve overslept.  But if the sky is just beginning to brighten, then I know I have time to get ready for the day without rushing. 

Sunrise in my back yard.  Yeah, it's a hardship assignment here.

The other night we ate dinner with friends at a restaurant, watching storm clouds approach the northern shore of the island.  Their dark, heavy appearance made us willing to hurry through our dinner and get back into the car, to get home so we could be safe.  We knew that the clouds would bring only rain, not high winds, but the foreboding nature of the clouds was enough to make us concerned.  We had no care to stay and experience the coming rains, as announced by the clouds.  So, we hurried back to enjoy the storm from the safety of our little home, turning on electrical lights to fend off the darkness of the clouds and rain.  As I sat and pondered in our home, some very loosely connected thoughts came to me:

1.  I have heard darkness defined as “the absence of light”.  That definition is used in black and white photography, but I also see it as a metaphor for my life.  The light of knowledge, the light of truth, the light of understanding – my purpose is to seek for light, and then use it to guide my decisions.  I know the standard of light - the quality of light I want to develop in myself.  I must guard myself against absenting myself from the light, and make my choices based upon the quality of light each alternative will provide.  

The other day I was working with some of the leaders of the boys' dorm, and we talked about the word "praiseworthy."  We talked about making decisions based on the praiseworthiness of each choice - which of two good things would you rather be congratulated on?  Which of two (or more) good things would you want your parents, or your leaders, or the Savior, to see you doing?  That is the praiseworthy test.  

One teacher doing a presentation in one of the
classes I teach after school.

2.  The light of education has been easy for me to seek. I have a deep love for the light of learning.  I appreciate the new understandings I gain when I search, and for the new understandings I can impart to others as I teach.  As I work with teachers here in Tonga, I love to watch the light in their faces as they master a new skill, or comprehend a new concept.  But there is so much more for them, and me, to learn.  May we have enough light to understand how to accomplish our worthy goals.

My "tall sister" and her daughter - I am the short sister!

3.  Light is within us all.  I need to remember that.  As I work together with others, I need to remember to bask in the light of others, and absorb the light of understanding - exemplified by the woman in this photo, who asks me almost
as many questions as I ask of her;  the light of patience, exemplified by a teacher who sat there with me for eight hours while we tried to get the computer to cooperate (eight hours - seriously????); the light of love, exemplified by Lehua (at lower left), one of the dorm girls who I have been blessed to know.  When I allow myself time to absorb light from others, I can do more than reflect the light of others – I can become a stronger source of light for others. 

Whether I seek physical sunlight, or the light of education, or the light of love and understanding, or even the light of Jesus Christ, the benefits are the same: increased happiness and capacity.  And isn’t that what we all want in life?

TINY STORIES

Just a crazy quilt today of pictures and thoughts.  No special connections, no "moral of the story" - just a hodgepodge.

This is a picture of a semi-traditional Tongan home.  It's probably about 12 feet wide by 6-7 feet deep.  Most of the more traditional homes have only two rooms - parents' sleeping room and a common room. All the cooking is done outdoors, on an open fire, and bathroom needs are met by hand-dug latrines and buckets of water.  The shutters, closed against the rain in this picture, can be propped open to allow for ventilation.


This house is more indicative of how most people live in Tonga:  a simple, concrete structure with four or five rooms (common room, parent bedrooms, boy's bedroom and girls' bedroom, perhaps a room for extended family).  The corrugated metal fencing around the yard is to keep the pigs out of the yard, so it's called a pig fence.  This house even has a catchwater system, to store rainwater for household use in the big cement cistern to the right.  The smaller green cistern to the left holds treated water, delivered to the house, for drinking and cooking.  

This is a picture of a missionary, standing beside a child who in my book is an expert fisherman - he caught this small leopard shark with his bare hands.  Not bad for a 9-year  old boy, eh?  "Hey, mom, I got dinner for all of us!"  Families are often seen wading through the waters at low tide to harvest shellfish and urchins to eat - and my goal is to get a picture of a pig in the water, rooting for urchins!!!







This is a typical scene on the road.  You can see whole truckloads of students being delivered to the school here each morning - people find a place to sit, on the corners of the truck bed walls, or standing and holding on to the frame behind the cab window, or just lying down in the bed of the truck.  Don't panic, though, most of the time they're holding on very well, and the trucks rarely go more than 30 mph!

This is John (in Tongan, Sione = say See-OH-nay), one of our security guards here at Liahona.  Our school colors are green and white, so someone found these shirts and bought them for the security guards.  I have to smile when I read the pocket tabs, though:  Homeland Security.  Without going into detail, let me assure you that security at Liahona is much more relaxed than any security system I've ever seen anywhere else.  But we don't need a lot, either.

This is the fire station here.  And by "the fire station", I mean THE fire station.  There's only one in Tonga.  They stay busy!  They have a couple of small tank trucks and a pumper.  Does anyone know a multi-millionaire who would be willing to donate a couple million dollars to build and equip a second station on an island of 70,000 people?

The next picture is just so you know we aren't deadly serious all the time.  This was a mock trial at our recent principals' conference - English powdered wigs and all - charging principals with (shock and horror) making improvements to their educational programs!!!  Turns out they were all guilty, and each was sentenced to eating a 24-ounce chocolate bar at one sitting!

This last picture shows the dais built for the King of Tonga when he came to hand out diplomas at graduation.  This temporary structure was built out from the stage in the school gym/auditorium, and then covered in traditionally woven and painted mats.  The different weaves, patterns and styles of decorating reflect the different clans on this and some of the other islands in Tonga.  But the thing that amazed me most about the whole graduation ceremony was that students climbed up the steps at the right, received their diploma from the king, and then BACKED DOWN the steps again, because it is disrespectful to turn your back on the king!  


Life in Tonga is simple, unstressful, and slow.  And I am learning to appreciate that.