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As we get older, we tend to look at ourselves, others, and the world around us quite differently than when we were younger. Hopefully, we’ve learned a few things, gained wisdom and friendships along the way, and done our part to contribute to the world. Sometimes we become more interested in things that before didn’t capture our attention.
Many of us are searching for ways to feel a little better—physically and emotionally. When aches and pains escalate, we feel thankful for modern medicines that can help restore our health. But there is another kind of treatment that some people are calling free medicine, or “a prescription you can’t fill in a pharmacy”: time spent in nature.
When the 2018 Nobel Prizes were awarded, an international trio of laser scientists shared the award in physics. Among them was 96-year-old Dr. Arthur Ashkin, believed to be the oldest person to ever receive a Nobel Prize. One might think that at his age, this achievement would be the ideal conclusion to a long career, a final exclamation point on a life of hard work. Dr. Ashkin doesn’t seem to think so. He “told Nobel officials that he might not be available for interviews about the award because he is very busy working on his next scientific paper.” 1
Each season of the year brings new weather, different challenges, and fresh opportunities for those who open their eyes and heart.
At the state funeral for former United States President George H. W. Bush in December 2018, former Canadian Prime Minister Brian Mulroney ended the eulogy of his dear friend with these words: “There are wooden ships, there are sailing ships, there are ships that sail the sea. But the best ships are friendships, and may they always be.”1
We’ve all experienced it: a family member, a coworker, or a perfect stranger says or does something to us that is downright rude. Maybe it was an impolite comment, an offensive joke, or some other sign of disrespect. Yes, we’ve all been on the receiving end of such incivility, and perhaps, from time to time, we’ve even been on the giving end.
According to popular legend, an officer in the Revolutionary War once directed his men to fell some trees and construct a much-needed bridge. As the soldiers struggled mightily with the task, an imposing-looking man rode up and, observing their work, said to the officer, “You don’t have enough men for the job, do you?”
To be human is to love. We become our best and truest selves only when we stop focusing on ourselves and start loving others. Love gives richness and beauty to life. People who love are able to keep going forward during difficulties and experience authentic joy.
Can your eyes be fooled? It actually happens every day. What looks like a leaf sometimes turns out to be a well-camouflaged insect. A shadow on the wall can make a harmless tree branch look like something much more menacing. And the objects in a rear-view mirror are often closer than they appear.
You don’t have to be a sailor or even a swimmer to know what it feels like to be thrown overboard into a stormy sea and struggle to keep your head above water. Life can feel that way sometimes. Fear and uncertainty crash and swirl all around us, and we feel that all we can do is hold on for dear life—if we could only find something to hold onto. To make matters worse, sometimes people and organizations we once trusted let us down. And so we wonder, where can we turn for peace? Where can we find safety and solace to our souls? Whom can we really trust?
Nelson Mandela spent nearly 27 years of his life in prison, from age 45 to age 71, for his efforts to end racial segregation in South Africa. Then, in what some people consider a modern miracle, Mandela became his country’s first black—and first democratically elected—president.1 But perhaps a greater miracle was his forgiveness of those who had imprisoned him. Nelson Mandela’s rare combination of courage and kindness made him one of the world’s most beloved leaders and citizens. But Mandela remained modest and unassuming, often reminding people, “I am not a saint—unless you think of a saint as a sinner who keeps on trying.” 2
Not long ago, a man ran into an old high school friend, one he had not seen for many decades. He remembered his classmate as a reckless teenager, but he was now well into his 60s, and he was noticeably different: certainly more responsible and mature, but also kinder and more caring. What a pleasure it was to get reacquainted with this new version of his long-lost friend. He couldn’t help but ponder what experiences must have influenced him over those many years. What heartache and happiness, what successes and sorrows had shaped him and made him into the person he had become?
Life is often compared to a pathway. And, as most of us know by experience, that pathway is rarely smooth and straight. Rather, it takes us on a journey of peaks and valleys, twists and turns. Some of these are expected: Childhood passes into youth. Youthful life evolves into adulthood and, eventually, into life’s twilight. We know these changes are coming, and we can prepare ourselves to transition from one stage to another.
As we close the calendars on one year, we open them to another. We reflect on days past and anticipate days ahead; we look back and we look forward every time we begin another year.
The promise of Christmas is a promise of love. Consider all the love that is shared at Christmastime: in the giving of heartfelt gifts, in a visit or phone call from a loved one, even in a simple “Merry Christmas” from a stranger passing on the street.
Some years ago, a group of friends were eating dinner together at Christmastime, bemoaning the busyness of the season. With exasperation and perhaps a little resentment, they spoke of hectic schedules and heavy burdens. After listening patiently, one wise, seasoned woman humbly offered her opinion. “I love Christmas,” she said. “It is the most joyful of all seasons. I love seeing the eyes of little children light up on Christmas morning. I love giving gifts. I love being with my family. We just need to simplify and remember what we are celebrating.” 1
This season of special holidays is all about giving. Young children are often most excited about what they might receive, but over time, we discover that real joy comes from giving—especially when we give with no thought of receiving anything in return. In fact, it might be said that such giving is the source of true happiness and captures the real spirit of the Christmas season.
What does Christmas mean to you? One couple learned something about the meaning of this special season several years ago when, the day after Christmas, their infant son passed away. Each year since that tragic event, they have placed a Christmas stocking by the fireplace in his memory.
This season of the year is a time of joyful anticipation. As summer’s heat gives way to fall’s vibrant colors, as planting and tending become reaping and harvesting, the season of thanks flows quite naturally into a season of generous giving.
Thanksgiving is a time of gathering. We gather together to enjoy a meal, to connect with loved ones, and to recognize and celebrate the good things in our lives. “We gather together to ask the Lord’s blessing.”1
At dawn on the morning of November 11, 1918, two railroad cars arrived in a remote forest outside Compiègne, France. One carried German military officers; the other, Allied commanders. They were gathering for a meeting that would make history. It was here that leaders of these two military forces signed an armistice—an agreement to end years of deadly conflict. At the 11th hour on the 11th day of the 11th month, World War I was over.
Recent events remind us that bad things happen to good people. Too often, senseless tragedies wrench our souls—whether the victims live in our own community or on the other side of the world.
Everyone has a gift. Some are blessed with athletic ability, empathy, problem-solving skills, artistic talent, a high IQ—the list goes on and on. And some people seem to have more than a few of these gifts.
Do you ever feel as if the world is spinning out of control? Hearing about tragedies and perils near and far can cause us to worry about how things will turn out. While there is solace in accepting things we cannot control, we also need to feel that there are some things we can control—that we determine, at least to some degree, the direction of our lives.
During one of the earliest performances of Peter Pan, the much-loved fantasy play for children, a small boy was invited to watch the production from the balcony. Afterwards he was asked what he liked best about the play. The pirates? The crocodile? Peter Pan flying through the air? The child’s response was surprising: “What I think I liked best was tearing up the program and dropping the bits on people’s heads.”
Too many people feel alone, figuratively wandering in the night. They search for purpose, meaning, and connection. They long to love and be loved, to help and be helped. Often their wandering is more desperate because they feel they don’t deserve love or help. Perhaps they’ve made poor choices or haven’t lived up to expectations—their own or others’.
Thomas Watson Sr. served for many years as the CEO of IBM and built the company into an international success. The story is told that during a business meeting in 1911, Watson became frustrated by the lack of good ideas being generated. “The trouble with every one of us is that we don’t think enough,” he declared. “Knowledge is the result of thought, and thought is the keynote of success in this business or any business.” Today, the word think adorns the walls of IBM buildings everywhere and remains at the heart of the company’s identity.
We’ve all heard the expression “light at the end of the tunnel.” But to anyone who has ever been completely engulfed in darkness, it’s more than just a nice saying. To them, a light at the end of the tunnel is a lifeline, a cherished spark of hope.
Not long ago, a middle-aged father took a vacation with his family. They toured historic sites and visited stunning natural wonders. Anxious to capture every moment of the trip, the father designated himself as the family photographer. Throughout the vacation he was consumed with taking photos. Later, as he looked at the photos and talked with his family, he was surprised to discover that he had actually missed many important moments of the trip. He had taken pictures of everything, but he had taken part in much less. Somehow his preoccupation with recording every moment prevented him from enjoying those moments—they had passed by him as he focused his lens elsewhere.
We all have our share of difficulty and tragedy in life. Some of us, in fact, seem to have more than our share. And then there are people who somehow, against all odds, survive multiple seemingly impossible situations.