Spoken Word Messages - Page 16

There’s something undeniably special about Christmastime. It’s a season of beloved songs and stories, of treasured memories and traditions. People of all faiths and cultures can sense that something changes for the better at this time of year. In the most personal and intimate ways, Christmas brings people together.

Much of the joy of life comes from anticipation. Who has not looked forward to a weekend, a reunion, a trip, or a holiday? The anticipation can be just as exciting as the event itself. It gives us a sense of hope for the future, a reason to keep going when life gets us down. In the cold, stark winter, we dream of the warmth and life of spring. On hot summer days, we look forward to the brisk, refreshing weather of fall. And when the harvest season ends, we await what is perhaps the most anticipated season of all—the advent of Christmas

Long before the New England colonists held their now-legendary autumn feast nearly 400 years ago, and well before Thanksgiving was ever a holiday, giving thanks has been essential to the human soul. And that’s true not only in times of plenty. On good days and bad, through abundance and scarcity, we make life sweeter when we count our blessings.

Parenting has been called the most difficult job in the world. Most will attest that it sometimes seems easier to succeed in the workplace, move up the corporate ladder, and enjoy the praise of work associates and friends than to feel that you’re doing a good job as a parent. And with parenting, unlike most professions, the work is never done. Indeed, good parents never retire.

On November 11, 1918, at 11:00 in the morning, warring nations agreed to an armistice—a truce—and World War I came to an end. Bombing and gunfire ceased, soldiers returned to their families, and the war-scarred land rested and began to heal. Years later, the 11th day of the 11th month became a national day of remembrance—Veterans Day, a day “dedicated to the cause of world peace.”1 Yet it wasn’t long before, once again, the sounds of war would be heard and soldiers would be called upon to serve their country in defense of freedom.

Maynard Dixon, a prolific artist from the previous century, is best known for his vibrant paintings of the American West. He spent much of his life roaming the western United States, which he loved so much, capturing on canvas images of the peoples and places he saw. But during the Great Depression in the 1930s, Dixon’s artistic focus changed: he painted a series of images depicting striking and displaced workers. One of those paintings, Forgotten Man, captured the poignant feelings of so many people during that time

When things get rushed and hectic, as they often do, it’s easy to view life as little more than a series of practical demands to be met. But then we hear a beautiful song, we see an exquisite painting, or we read a stunning poem, and we are reminded that life, at its heart, is beautiful and brilliant, elevating and enriching. Yes, the world has its practical, methodical side, but life is just as much an art as it is a science.

During the American Civil War, Lieutenant Colonel William McCullough, fighting for the Union, died heroically trying to rally his troops during an ambush. He was one of thousands who perished in that deadliest of American wars, but President Abraham Lincoln had a personal connection to this soldier. He had become acquainted with the McCullough family during his days as an attorney in Illinois, and the two men had served together during the Black Hawk War.

An old proverb says, “The best time to plant a tree is 20 years ago. The second-best time is now.”1 It’s true for improving a landscape, and it’s true for improving our lives. Whether you want to read a novel or write one, take a walk or climb a mountain, the sooner you begin, the sooner you can become the person you want to be.

In the Chartres Cathedral in France, four stained-glass windows depict the four Evangelists: Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. It’s not unusual to find something like this in a medieval cathedral, but these particular images are unique because each of the Gospel writers is being carried on the shoulders of a revered Old Testament prophet: Jeremiah, Isaiah, Ezekiel, or Daniel. In beautiful art glass, these images capture what Bernard, the 12th-century chancellor of the School of Chartres, told his students: we stand on the shoulders of the giants who preceded us.

Sometimes, in order to move faster, we need to slow down. In order to see better, we need to close our eyes for a while. And in order to progress, we need to take an occasional step back. It seems counterintuitive, but some of the most successful people know that success doesn’t come just from relentless pushing—we actually do better if we have regular moments of rest.

More than 50 years ago, three women from Pennsylvania, two sisters and a friend, attended a performance by the Pittsburgh Symphony for the first time. Now, a half century later, they have attended nearly 600 performances.

There are few moments in life that better highlight the unconquerable human spirit than the moment when hearts and hands turn to the task of rebuilding. Although life is basically good, disasters happen—most of them minor, but some so devastating that we wonder how we will ever move forward and rebuild. And yet somehow we do. We have done it in the past, we are doing it now, and we will keep doing it in the future. If it’s true that to err is human, then it’s just as human to muster our strength, pick ourselves up, and carry on.

Everything good that has ever been accomplished in human history happened because of work—usually hard work. Sometimes our most enthusiastic efforts have been focused on finding ways to make work easier. But the work never completely goes away, does it? That’s because work is the engine of life. It gives us reason to get up in the morning and satisfaction when we take our rest in the evening. In many countries, there is even a day to honor the men and women who get things done—we call it Labor Day.

There’s something enchanting about butterflies. Even on our busy days, we almost can’t help but stop and watch when one flutters by. And most of us know the familiar green chrysalis from which a beautiful monarch butterfly will someday emerge.
But what’s happening inside that chrysalis may surprise you. Many of us think a caterpillar is simply hibernating in there, slowly growing wings. But what’s actually happening is even more miraculous. Once encased in a chrysalis, the caterpillar releases enzymes that turn its body into liquid. From this watery soup, the entire creature is rebuilt. The muscles, the nervous system, the heart—everything is completely re-created, and the lowly caterpillar transforms into a brilliant butterfly.1

Nobody’s life is worry free, but that doesn’t mean our worries need to run our lives. Learning how to manage our worries can make all the difference in our well-being. This is what a busy young father learned. He had a challenging career and was feeling overwhelmed with his many responsibilities. He would come home from work every night feeling anxious and even physically ill. He found it very difficult to sleep at night. He went to his physician for help; he prayed and pondered about what to do. The man soon realized that he needed to stop worrying so much. But how would he do that?

The best remedy for the stresses and tensions of modern life is simpler than we might think: spend some time outside. When we interact with the natural world, we feel less stressed, more focused, more contented and happy. There’s something invigorating about the subtle yet pleasing stimulation of nature—the sound of a trickling brook, the sight of a bird taking flight, the fresh smell of earth right after a rainstorm. Nature has an undeniable, uplifting effect on us that’s hard to define but easy to feel.

It’s been said that “life does not determine winners. Winners determine life.”1 Most true winners have “lost” at some point in life. They have been hurt and disappointed; they have experienced setbacks and sorrow, but they do not let these difficulties determine their destiny or define their lives. Instead, they strive to rise above their challenges and keep moving forward one day at a time. In fact, it is very often the defeats, just as much as the victories, that bring out the greatness in a true champion.

A young woman from a disadvantaged background stood on the stage in cap and gown, proudly holding the university diploma she had just been awarded. With perseverance, she had achieved what many thought impossible. When asked how she had done it—how she had managed to pull herself out of such difficult circumstances—she replied, “I had hope! I just kept going and never lost hope.”

More than 150 years ago, thousands of stalwart pioneers fled their comfortable homes into the wilderness in search of freedom from religious persecution. A newspaper headline from 1914 summarized their remarkable westward trek in these words: “Strong Men, Brave Women and Sturdy Children Crossed the Wilderness Afoot.”1

Written by the people and for the people, folk music is appropriately named; it truly is the music of the folks—the common people, even the family. When people share their traditions and values through music, they create a powerful connection with other human beings. We come to associate the music with the feelings it inspires, and quite often, we want to share that music with others. And so folk music continues to thrive. One generation after another shares the songs that have chronicled their lives.

In 1872, United States President Ulysses S. Grant signed a bill designating Yellowstone as America’s first national park. In fact, it was the first national park in the world. More than that, it was the birth of a new idea—the preservation of a natural site of notable beauty and importance. The idea caught on, and over the next 44 years, another 34 national parks and monuments, along with an agency to maintain them, were created. Here at Yellowstone National Park, we mark the 100th anniversary of the founding of the National Park Service, and we celebrate what author and environmentalist Wallace Stegner called “the best idea [America] ever had.”

Irving Berlin, America’s most successful songwriter, was born in a small Russian village near the Siberian border. Threats of violence forced his family to flee Russia when he was only five years old, and they eventually found a home in the United States.

So perhaps it’s not surprising that when the well-known singer Kate Smith asked Irving Berlin to write a patriotic song for her, he wrote what he called “a ballad of home. It’s not a song about a flag, or liberty, or something like that,” he said. “It’s a song about home. Instead of the home being a little cottage, it’s America.”

The choices we make not only shape our lives but, in a way, show on our face. We all know people who seem to have a light in their eyes, people who seem to light up a room. In most cases, it’s not their charisma but their character that impresses us—not their personality but their purity. The goodness of their lives is reflected on their countenance. They project the kind of confidence that comes from living with honor and integrity.

A young father, noticing that his wife was not feeling well, made extra efforts to help out. He took care of things around the house, prepared a warm bath for her, and took the children for a walk so she could rest. “Don’t worry,” he told her. “I’ll take care of you.” Imagine the satisfaction he felt when, a few days later, he heard his three-year-old daughter use these same words when she acted kindly to her mother. The father felt grateful but also humbled. He realized how closely his daughter was observing his behavior. He determined to be more intentional about setting a good example for his daughter to follow.

This year marks the 100th anniversary of the founding of the National Park Service, entrusted with the care of America’s national parks. The first of those parks was Yellowstone, known today for its wildlife, its mountain forests, and especially its geothermal features—about half of the world’s geysers are in Yellowstone.

Arthur Wright was a simple preacher living in South Carolina during an era of deep racial tension. The future did not seem particularly bright for an African American family like his, but Arthur encouraged his children to rise to the greatness within them. His daughter Marian wrote of him: “I was fourteen years old the night my Daddy . . . passed away. He had holes in his shoes but two children out of college, one in college, another in divinity school, and a vision he had conveyed to me that I, a young Black girl, could be and do anything I wanted.”

Here at the historic West Point Cemetery at the United States Military Academy, we remember and reflect upon the service and sacrifice of those who have served our nation since its founding.
The cemetery is on a beautiful promontory overlooking the Hudson River as it flows endlessly into the Atlantic Ocean, reminding us that life, with all its bends and rapids, rolls on just as surely to our final resting place. It is calm and peaceful here today—a poignant contrast to the memories and images of war evoked by the names, gravestones, and monuments scattered throughout this cemetery.

There’s no question that we live in a beautiful world and that life is full of reasons to be grateful and joyful. But unfortunately, we still manage to find things to complain about. It may be the weather, traffic, current events, the people around us—or anything in between. Yes, life can be a challenge at times, but there are better ways to face life’s challenges than complaining about them.

People all over the world, in every culture and clime, pursue greatness. The desire to succeed and excel is as universal as it is natural. But what is true greatness? How do we know when we have achieved it? Some might say that greatness happens in rare, extraordinary moments when someone of unusual ability rises above his or her peers.