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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.
On the second Sunday in May 1908, Anna Jarvis honored her late mother, Ann Reeves Jarvis, by organizing America’s first-ever Mother’s Day services. In 1914 President Woodrow Wilson made it a national holiday, but by then this official action was mostly a technicality. Anna Jarvis had already persuaded most states in the union to observe Mother’s Day. Now the tradition of a special day to honor mothers has spread around the world.
A high school student learned a valuable lesson as he took a college entrance exam a few months ago. The night before the test, he read through the instructions he had received. He verified the time the exam would start. He sharpened his pencils. He put his calculator in his backpack. He felt ready for the early-morning test
Have you ever observed a child who finds an injured bird on the ground? Almost instinctively, she wants to take it in, feed it, and make sure it doesn’t die. It’s the same impulse that leads a sailor to spend hours helping a dolphin get untangled from a fishing line. It’s what inspires a gardener to tend a withering plant, hoping to restore it to health again. It’s what causes an entire community to rally to the rescue when someone—even a stranger—is lost in the mountains or stranded in a mine.
An experienced and now retired pilot and flight instructor learned valuable lessons about life while flying airplanes around the world. He learned that even though pilots control massive, powerful flying machines, there are some things they cannot control: they can’t change the direction of the wind, stop the rain or the snow, or smooth out the turbulence jolting the airplane.
For the most part, every day on the calendar is like every other—each starts with sunrise and ends with a sunset, with lots of busyness in between. But there are certain days that we set apart. National holidays, for example, help us remember our past and inspire our future. Religious holidays turn our hearts toward things of the soul. And then we have personal days of remembrance—such as birthdays and anniversaries—to commemorate the milestones in our own lives and the lives of those we love.
Sometimes, we come to know what something is by understanding what it is not. We learn of integrity, for example, by confronting dishonesty. We learn of courage as we encounter fear. And we can learn of love as we consider its counterfeits. Love is not overbearing or controlling; love is not jealous or unkind; love is not neglectful, impatient, or fickle.
Why is it that the most significant, beautiful moments in life so often come just after periods of darkness and sorrow? The birth of a new child is always preceded by a mother’s pain and travail. The joyful colors of spring are most inspiring because they come on the heels of a dreary winter. And glorious sunrises would be meaningless if they didn’t follow the darkness of night
We were created to grow. Life is an adventure in learning and progress, becoming a little wiser and better each day. In this sense, without some kind of growth or improvement, we cease to live. And this life, where we are surrounded by fellow learners, is the best setting for learning.
In a scene that plays out often in snowy weather, a young driver was in a hurry to meet a friend and hit an icy patch on the road. Before she could react, the car slid off the road and wedged tightly into a snowbank. The snow cushioned the impact, but the car was stuck. Soon the young woman was able to signal to a kind passerby who helped her free the car, and she was on her way.
Every year, as winter finally gives way to spring, the warmer weather and sunnier days draw us outside, inviting us put our hands in the soil and plant something. Nothing quite compares to the satisfaction of watching something grow: tomatoes or peas, a pine tree or an apple tree, or whatever seeds we may plant. Nurturing a garden takes time, resourcefulness, and commitment. As every good gardener knows, consistent care is the only way to get anything to grow.
Before Viktor Frankl became a renowned psychologist; before he survived a Nazi concentration camp; and before he wrote Man’s Search for Meaning, a bestselling book about his experiences; he was a high school student who thought deeply about life—more deeply than perhaps most teenagers do. One day his science teacher declared to the class, “Life is nothing more than a combustion process, a process of oxidation.” Young Viktor leaped from his chair and countered, “Sir, if this is so, then what can be the meaning of life?”1
We live in a time of great division. Advances in technology have, in many ways, made our world smaller, but instead of coming together, we seem at times to be growing farther apart. Many of us wish for a way to bridge the cultural divides around us. We see people of other faiths or other nationalities, and we wonder how we might befriend those who seem so different from us.