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If it’s true, as Shakespeare wrote, that “parting is such sweet sorrow,”1 then perhaps we could say that reuniting is the sweetest joy. While saying goodbye can be heart-wrenching at times, reconnecting with loved ones we haven’t seen in a while can be among life’s greatest moments.
A wise ship captain keeps his vessel in constant repair. He knows that a small leak today can grow into a sizeable hole tomorrow and sink the boat.
One thing this world needs more of is kindness. Our daily interactions provide limitless opportunities for more patience, thoughtfulness, forgiveness, and compassion: in other words, more kindness
When a young family moved into their first home, they decided to build a playhouse for the kids in the backyard. The parents and children threw their hearts into the project, carefully selecting the wood, the shingles, and all the supplies.
We all know that food, water, and shelter are essential to sustain life. But there’s another basic need that is too often overlooked—the need to love and be loved. Gentle touches, soft words, sweet smiles, and adoring looks nurture our soul in a way that nothing else can. No matter how old or young, we all need love.
The sometimes tragic experiences of the early American pioneers are more than just interesting history lessons. Though they took place over a century and a half ago, they can serve as an inspiration to us today. Such is the case with the story of James and Sarah Ferguson McDonald.
John Trebonius was a humble schoolteacher in Germany many years ago. He was known for the unusually respectful attitude he showed toward the young people in his classroom. Even when they seemed a little unruly, he would treat them well. “Who knows?” he would say. “There may be among my pupils a great poet, a great preacher, a great philosopher!”1 Although it was the Germanic custom of the day for professors to keep their hats on when entering the schoolroom, John Trebonius always removed his, explaining, “I do not know but that there sits among [these students] one who will change the destiny of mankind. I take off my hat in deference to what they may become.”2
Happiness and gratitude are linked together inseparably. Those who are grateful tend to be happier, and those who are happy tend to be more grateful. Happiness and gratitude simply go together. Scholars and scientists, poets and philosophers have connected them for generations.
In an elementary school classroom filled with energetic children, the teacher asks the students to respond to two questions. The first question is “What do you like most about living in America?” The answers come quickly: the beautiful land and scenery, the lakes and mountains, the many things to do and see, the freedom, the people, and on and on. After the children finish their responses, the teacher asks a second and more important question: “So what can you do to make America better?”
At times, every father wonders, “Where did the time go?” Children who just yesterday were so small, so dependent on us, so eager to spend time with us, suddenly become so grown up, so independent, and so anxious to find their own place in the world. The years speed on, and they seem to go […]
Actor John Rhys-Davies sometimes speaks to young people about overcoming shyness. He says that it is quite natural to feel shy, to be uncomfortable in a room of strangers. His advice? “Turn it the other way around and think, ‘I’m walking into a room full of very shy people, and my job is to make […]
Much of the joy we experience in life comes from our interaction with other people. For the most part, our associations are pleasant and cause little or no distress, but every now and then the actions of others can offend or even hurt us. It seems to be a natural part of the human experience […]
A sweet older woman recently shared her perspective on life, developed over many years of navigating all its ups and downs. She said, “My health is not the best, but it could be worse. My money situation is not the best, but it could be worse. My life right now may not be the best, but it could be worse.” Her words revealed none of the despair nor the pride of comparing herself to others but the happiness and peace that comes of perspective, of remembering that things can always get better—and in the meantime, faith and hope can carry us through.
On February 3, 1943, the U.S. Army troopship Dorchester, part of a naval convoy, steamed steadily across the icy waters of the North Atlantic Ocean en route to World War II’s European front. On board were 900 soldiers. The seas were rough, and the stretch was treacherous; German submarines were known to lurk below in what was called “torpedo alley.”
When children are small, they thank their mothers all day long—and not always with words. Their delighted squeals express gratitude when their mothers push them on the swings. Their eyes sparkle with appreciation when their mothers feed them. They whisper thanks as they snuggle close when their mothers read them bedtime stories. Though sometimes unspoken, their gratitude feels natural and spontaneous—almost involuntary. It is simply part of their countenance and disposition.
Our common lot is to be born into an imperfect world, filled with disappointment and unanswered questions. It is natural, in these circumstances, to worry about the future. We wonder if things will work out for us—and for our loved ones.
The appropriately named Dead Sea is one of the saltiest bodies of water on earth. As a result, it cannot support life. Neither plants nor fish or other animals can receive any nourishment from its salty waters.
For more than 250 years, millions of people all over the world have marveled at the sound and majesty of George Frideric Handel’s sacred oratorio Messiah. Composed in a burst of inspiration in only 23 days, it was first performed as an Easter offering in the spring of 1742 in Dublin, Ireland. Since then, it has been performed thousands of times in every corner of the world, becoming one of the most popular pieces of music ever created.
The prophet Moses is one of the great leaders in history. He is honored and revered in multiple faith traditions worldwide. Raised as a prince in Pharaoh’s court, Moses grew up with every advantage. He was educated and powerful; as the scripture records, he “was mighty in words and in deeds.”1
When we think of good teamwork, we often think of championship sports teams who work together to accomplish great things. But a community can also be a team, each citizen joining in common causes for the betterment of society. A workplace is a team, each worker contributing to the success of the company or organization. And then there’s the ultimate “home team”—the family, with each member helping the others to achieve more than they could ever do alone. In all aspects of life, we need each other. We need people doing their best and giving their best for the benefit and progress of the whole.
We can’t do everything for everyone, but that shouldn’t stop us from doing something for someone. Noted author and religious leader Neal A. Maxwell was a very compassionate but busy man. He had on his office wall a useful reminder of this reality of life by Anne Morrow Lindbergh: “My life cannot implement in action the demands of all the people to whom my heart responds.”1 That’s not so much an excuse to ignore the needs of others as it is a perceptive statement about pace and wisely doing what we can.2
To one degree or another, we all experience loss. And the loss we feel most deeply is the loss of loved ones whom we miss so much. Out of this collective mourning comes a shared understanding—the unity of those who sorrow that transcends words but cannot escape our hearts.
A long time ago, noted preacher Dwight Moody told his congregation a story about a boat, helplessly rocking and plunging on a stormy, starless night near the Cleveland harbor. The mariners on board could see the lighthouse, but they needed to find their way through the narrow passage in the treacherous rocks that surrounded the harbor. Normally a light on the shore, aligned with the lighthouse, marked the passage to safety. But on this night, the lower lights had gone out.
“If you were arrested for kindness, would there be enough evidence to convict you?” commentator Michael Josephson once asked. He then noted something we have all experienced: “Some people cheer up a room by entering it, others by leaving it. What do you bring to your interactions with workmates, friends, and family? Is it encouragement, optimism, or kind words? Or is it pessimism, criticism, or cynicism?”1
Life, with its ups and downs and twists and turns, has sometimes been compared to a roller coaster. It can be exciting and fun one moment, just as it can be frightening and exhausting the next. Even as we stand in line and wait for our turn on the ride, we are never fully prepared for what lies ahead.
It’s been said that everyone has a story. And the older we get, the more stories we have. Truly, our “seasoned citizens” are treasure chests of experience and wisdom—and with each passing year, they become more valuable. But do we value and cherish their knowledge? Do we take the time to get to know them?
This historic Tabernacle on Temple Square—built with the ingenuity and grit of 19th-century pioneers—has hosted many major civic events since its dedication in 1875. In particular, several presidents of the United States have stood at the podium. The list includes Ulysses S. Grant, Theodore Roosevelt, Woodrow Wilson, Franklin D. Roosevelt, Harry S. Truman, Dwight D. Eisenhower, John F. Kennedy, Lyndon B. Johnson, Richard M. Nixon, Gerald R. Ford, Jimmy Carter, and George H. W. Bush. Records show that thousands—sometimes more than twice the normal capacity—crowded into the Tabernacle to hear them speak.
Every love story is different. Whether it’s fictional or real, from our family history or our own lives, each story includes its share of heartaches and joys. Many are characterized by moving, poetic declarations of love and devotion. But the stories that stand the test of time are those that chronicle love in action: lived affection and demonstrated caring.
We never know the whole story of anyone’s life. We might know bits and pieces, parts of a person’s background or circumstances, but never the whole story.
One of the remarkable things about humans is that we care about others—those we know personally and even those we don’t. With a few rare exceptions, most of us genuinely care about the well-being of others, and we do our best to help and not harm. And yet in our technology-filled world, we sometimes don’t even notice others or their needs, and so our good intentions go unfulfilled.