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Some 400 years ago, the Netherlands suffered through a prolonged and bitter war with Spain as it sought religious and political independence. At last, celebrating their triumph over oppression, the Dutch victors set their sentiments to a familiar folk melody. The opening words to that song were later translated into English as “We gather together to ask the Lord’s blessing.”1
We live in a day when more knowledge is literally at our fingertips than ever before. With the click of a button or the touch of a screen, we can learn about any topic imaginable. Millions of articles, instructional videos, and the latest breaking news seem to swirl around us. This explosion of information fills our brains and makes us wiser than ever before. Or does it?
The mere collection of facts does not necessarily lead to wise behavior. We all know people with brilliant minds who make unfortunate choices because they lack wisdom. The world has seen far too many tyrants who know how to fight a war but not how to avoid one.
The eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month. That moment in 1918 marked the end of World War I and the beginning of an annual tradition of remembrance. For the next several years, November 11 was known as Armistice Day, a day of gratitude for peace and for those who sacrificed so much to secure it in that “war to end all wars.” Of course, wars did not end, and more and more Americans were called into the service of their country. So, in the aftermath of World War II and the Korean War, November 11 was renamed Veterans Day in honor of all military veterans—today numbering 25 million and counting—who gave so much for the cause of freedom.
Long-distance runner John Stephen Akhwari represented Tanzania in the 1968 Summer Olympics in Mexico City with an unforgettable performance in the marathon. He did not set a new world record. He did not even earn a medal. In fact, by the time he crossed the finish line, the sun had set, the winner had been crowned over an hour earlier, and most of the fans had left the stadium. But Akhwari’s performance still inspires to this day.
For hundreds of years, men and women and even nations have been shaped by influential books. If it’s true that we are what we eat, then it’s equally true that we are what we read.
In both serious and delightful ways, good books expand our worldview and inform our thoughts and opinions. Good books also entertain and enlighten us. They help us see and understand others—and, ultimately, ourselves—in new ways. Anytime we read a good book, we make new discoveries that can stretch us, transport us, and teach us how to marvel.
About 45 years ago, the Watergate scandal led to the resignation of a United States president and shook the nation to its core. A young law clerk, fresh out of law school, saw the details of this tragedy unfold as he worked for the judge who presided over the Watergate trials. This law clerk, D. Todd Christofferson, recently shared his experience with the faculty and students at Oxford University.
“The life lesson I took away from this experience,” he said, “was that my hope for avoiding the possibility of a similar catastrophe in my own life lay in never making an exception—always and invariably submitting to the dictates of an ethical conscience. Putting one’s integrity on hold, even for seemingly small acts in seemingly small matters, places one in danger of losing the benefit and protection of conscience altogether.”1
Recently an older home was demolished to make room for a new house to be built on the same property. Over the decades, that home had been filled with laughter and memories, and now, almost in the blink of an eye, it was gone, and the slow work of rebuilding began. It was a reminder of the simple truth that it is always easier to destroy than to build.
In one of his legendary fables, Aesop, the master storyteller, tells of an encounter between an ant and a grasshopper. It was a sunny summer day, and the grasshopper was relaxing and making music. Then the ant came by, carrying a load of food to its nest. “Why not come and chat with me,” said the grasshopper, “instead of working so hard all day?”
Many decades ago, on quiet mornings before school and work, a sleepy young family used to gather in the living room of their modest home to read scriptures, pray, and talk about eternal things. Today the children, now well into middle age, vividly remember how their father would pull out a large, flattened cardboard box on which he had written some inspirational words of the Savior. During those early mornings, from this makeshift poster, the family would read and reflect on such life-changing truths as these:
We all want to feel appreciated—that our efforts are valued, that our contribution makes a difference. Hearing even a simple expression of gratitude can inspire us to do our best.
John James Audubon, a world-famous birdwatcher, naturalist, and painter, is credited with discovering 25 species of birds. He is perhaps best known for his masterful book titled The Birds of America, filled with colorful life-size illustrations of nearly 500 different birds. Almost 200 years later, it is still considered one of the finest picture books ever created.
Life was not meant to be an unending sequence of beautiful days. But beautiful things can happen even on ugly days, and often those beautiful things happen when we find a way to make someone smile.
Sometimes life’s most difficult problems can be solved in the most unexpected ways. In fact, even when a situation seems downright hopeless, a little resourcefulness and ingenuity can lead to surprising solutions.
How many times have we been told to go to sleep early and awake early in the morning? Centuries ago, the American statesman and scientist Benjamin Franklin famously said, “Early to bed and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.”1 And he was just echoing the even-older advice of Aristotle: “It is well to be up before day-break, for such a habit contributes to health, wealth and wisdom.”2
We each have a backstory—the experiences, events, and choices that helped shape us into the people we’ve become. One of the best ways to understand a person, even someone we might disagree with, is to learn his or her story. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow put it this way: “If we could read the secret history of our enemies, we should find in each man’s life sorrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility.”1 Though most of us don’t see each other as enemies, the sentiment is clear. It’s much harder to dislike a person whose story you understand.
At a recent high school graduation, the class valedictorian spoke of the most important thing he had learned in 13 years of public education. Among his many classes and extracurricular activities, one moment in particular stood out. His teacher had just divided the class into groups for a project that they would work on—and be graded on—as teams rather than individually. Sensing the students’ distaste for this approach, the teacher preempted their complaints by explaining, “Get used to working in groups because, in the end, life is a group project.”
Moonlight, with its soft, silver tones and the enchanting mood it casts, has captured our fancy for centuries. It has been the subject of countless poems, songs, serenades, and evening walks. We marvel at how bright a full moon can seem sometimes, even though we know it is merely reflecting the light it receives from the sun. In fact, our full moon, at its very brightest, only reflects about 12 percent of the light that reaches it.
It has been said that when you compare yourself to others, two things can happen—and both are harmful: you may decide you are better than other people, or you may conclude that other people are better than you, which will leave you feeling unsettled, dissatisfied, and discouraged. As one commentator observed: “For some people, the pleasure of having something good is drained as soon as they see someone else with something better.
In 1897, the Washington Post boldly announced, “It is a fact that man can’t fly.” Apparently, someone forgot to tell that to Wilbur and Orville Wright.
In 1900, Wilbur glided 300 feet over the dunes of Kitty Hawk on North Carolina’s Outer Banks in a glider he and his brother had designed. Three years and many attempts later, Orville flew in a powered plane for 12 seconds. It wasn’t long before they were in the air flying for miles, and the Wright brothers had become the unlikely inventors of the world’s first successful aircraft.
To many, the word pioneer conjures up images of covered wagons, dusty oxen, and hearty men and women seeking a new home in the American West. Or it may remind us of someone who makes important scientific discoveries. In reality, a pioneer can be anyone who moves bravely forward into the unknown—and doesn’t that pretty well describe all of us on the journey of life?
Some call it journaling. Others call it expressive writing or creating a personal mission statement. Whatever it’s called, something happens when we take time to seriously ponder our life and then write about who we are, what direction we want our life to take—what our goals and aspirations are for the future. Studies have shown that writing about our personal experiences can improve our mood and even our physical health.
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.
As inevitable aging began to take its toll, one good man questioned whether he had been the kind of father he had hoped to be. Mustering his courage, he called his three children together and, with his wife at his side, made this poignant request: “Tell me how you feel about me as your father. What did I do right, and what did I do wrong?” One by one, the children shared their very personal thoughts and feelings.
It’s human nature to want to improve, to progress—to overcome our weaknesses and build upon our strengths. Unfortunately, it’s also part of human nature to get distracted and give in to temptation. How many times, for example, have we set goals to exercise or improve our diet, only to find ourselves eating junk food again before long?
Successful New York Times columnist David Brooks once visited a group of 30 tutors, many of them elderly women, who taught English to immigrants. He was surprised by what he saw in these volunteers’ faces. “They just radiated a generosity of spirit,” he said. “They radiated a patience and most of all they radiated gratitude for life.” He thought to himself: “I’ve achieved career success in life, but I haven’t achieved that. What they have is that inner light that I do not have.”
When asked who has made a real difference in our lives, we often think of a teacher. No matter how many years pass, we never forget the person who first opened our eyes to the wonders of science, art, or good books. In fact, we learn very few—if any—of life’s valuable lessons on our own. We all need caring, experienced mentors to guide us through our learning experiences.
A family with teenage children has a cherished tradition that has served them for generations. Each time one of the children leaves home for a date or an activity with friends, the father always says, “Remember who you are and what you represent.” The teenagers have grown to expect this gentle reminder. It’s the same reminder their father heard his parents say to him a generation earlier.
Nobody seeks out suffering. And yet it is one of life’s great ironies that the moments that make us feel weakest often reveal our hidden strengths. We don’t really know what we can endure until we are forced to endure it. Yale University professor Steven Southwick believes that “most of us are a lot more resilient than we think.”1 He compares us to a green tree branch—it may not seem as strong as a more mature, rigid limb. But in a strong wind it’s the green branch that survives, bending but never breaking.
The year was 1918, the close of World War I. An American Red Cross nurse wrote a letter to the mother of a soldier who had died shortly after the armistice was signed. He had made it through the terrors of war without injury and then, sadly, succumbed in the hospital to pneumonia. Wanting the mother to have more than a brief message from the military about her son’s death, the nurse wrote of what she called the “little things that mean so much to a mother far away from her boy.”
If there is one common thread that runs through most of the world’s problems, it’s anger. Violence, abuse, and hatred all grow when fueled by anger’s empty fumes. We’ve all seen how anger damages relationships and destroys love and trust. What’s more, medical researchers have recently found that anger can lead to sleeping problems, excess eating, and long-term heart damage.1 No, nothing good comes from anger.