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.
Paul Harvey, the famous radio commentator, put it this way after visiting the campus of a religious university known for its high moral standards. "Each... young face," he said, "mirrored a sort of... sublime assurance. These days many young eyes are prematurely old from countless compromises with con science. But [these young people] have that enviable head start which derives from discipline, dedication, and consecration.”1
Several years ago, a student was traveling abroad when her connecting plane was unexpectedly delayed overnight. Even though the airline made accommodations for the passengers’ overnight stay, the young woman felt frightened, alone, and unprepared. She looked around at the other passengers and noticed a young mother who seemed to radiate peace and confidence in spite of the stressful situation. The student approached her and asked for some guidance. They ate dinner together, and the young mother calmed her fears. The next morning when they boarded the plane at the same time, the student thanked the young mother for her kindness. The student explained, “Somehow I knew you would help me.”
We have all been blessed by people who radiate goodness, and we can be that person for someone else. Of course, none of us is perfect, but if we are honestly striving to live in a positive way, it will show in our face, in our eyes, and in our countenance. And thus we can be a source of light to those around us.
1. In James E. Faust, "The Light in Their Eyes," Ensign or Liahona, Nov. 2005, 20.

Continue reading

Have you ever bumped into someone you knew years ago, surprised to find how much he or she had changed for the better? Life is full of little miracles, but this is perhaps the greatest miracle of all-to see people change, grow, and improve, day by day and little by little.”

Imagine how different life would be if we saw people not for who they are right now, but for who they could become. Think of how we might respond differently to a child if we looked past his failed and messy attempts to make something and into his productive, positive future. Consider the boss, spouse, teenager, or neighbor whose occasional annoying behaviors sometimes put us at odds. What if we could see them as the better person they might become? This may be the most important way we can change-in our ability to believe in and nurture change in others.

Clinton Duffy was a prison warden in the United States during the 1940s and 50s. He was well known for his efforts to rehabilitate the men in his prison. One critic who was skeptical of these efforts said to the warden, "You should know that leopards don't change their spots!" But Duffy replied, with the wisdom and perspective that comes of experience: "You should know I don't work with leopards. I work with men, and men change every day."1

It's not always easy to see others as they can become, and it very often takes patience and faith. Too often we give ourselves and others a reputation, a perception that makes change difficult. But people can surprise us, even inspire us, with how they can and often will change for the better.

1. In Thomas S. Monson, "See Others as They May Become," Ensign, Nov. 2012, 69.

Continue reading

Part of what makes Christmastime so delightful are simple carols like this one, an old nursery rhyme set to a traditional melody:

Christmas is coming,
The geese are getting fat,
Please . . . put a penny
In the old man’s hat.
If you haven’t got a penny,
A ha’penny will do,
If you haven’t got a ha’penny,
Then God bless you.

One of the surest signs that Christmas is coming—besides the whimsical songs about well-fed geese—is the almost magical change that seems to come in our outlook and attitude toward others. The advent of Christmas brings a largeness of heart that makes us think a little more about those in need. Something about this time of year brings out the best in us, convincing us to give what we can, whether it’s a penny or a ha’penny—or simply our prayers and goodwill.

Maybe it has something to do with that memorable declaration of the heavenly angels so long ago: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men” (Luke 2:14). Those words are fulfilled and renewed every year at Christmastime, as we open our hearts to others, remember more fully those we love, and look for opportunities to help those who may be a little less fortunate. When Christmas comes, we combine our faith and prayers with good works to shelter the needy, feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, clothe the naked, and comfort the oppressed (see Matthew 25:34–36). In short, we give the best kind of gifts.

But really, they aren’t just Christmas gifts. It’s true that poverty and loneliness are felt most keenly during Christmastime, but they exist all year long. What if the advent of this season marked within us an advent of kindness and generosity in our hearts that we carried with us always? What if Christmas left us permanently changed—a little kinder, a little more generous for the rest of the year? Perhaps this year, the ideal of this glorious season could become real in our lives. Perhaps this time, when Christmas comes, it can come to stay.

Continue reading

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

The words, the tune, and most of all the spirit of this hymn caught on, crossing cultural, religious, and generational bounds. Today it is known as the “Prayer of Thanksgiving,” and to many it has become an inseparable part of the harvest season. Though it may often evoke images of Pilgrims and Thanksgiving feasts, its words of gratitude capture the feelings of all who have endured adversity and felt to express thanks.²

And really, that’s every one of us. We’ve all had times when we felt overwhelmed or oppressed, alone or forgotten. It’s ironic—but true—that one of the surest ways to feel better in such moments is to consider our blessings. When things aren’t going well, the quickest solution is to give thanks for the things that are going well. Nothing gets us through our adversities quite like a grateful heart.

That’s easier said than done, at least at first. We may need to start small—very small: a bold sunrise or gentle sunset, a changing season, a freshly picked flower, a favorite memory, a loyal friend. Once we determine to look for and cherish the good things, once we resolve to make gratitude a habit of the heart, life just seems to get better, and we feel happier.²

As we count our blessings instead of our burdens, as we measure life by what we have rather than what we don’t have, our lives become a constant, living “prayer of thanksgiving.” And, in the words of the old Dutch folk hymn, this is what will ultimately “make us free.”

1. “Prayer of Thanksgiving,” Hymns, no. 93.
2. See Karen Lynn Davidson, Our Latter-Day Hymns: The Stories and the Messages(1988), 122; see also Melanie Kirkpatrick, “A Hymn’s Long Journey Home,” Wall Street Journal, Nov. 19, 2005, wsj.com/articles/SB113234570513601660.

Continue reading

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.

That’s easy to forget when the winds of life seem to be tossing us about. Resilient people know they can’t stop the storm, but they can decide how they react to it. They can take charge of their present and therefore their future. Whatever the challenge may be—a financial crisis, poor health, a conflict in the family or other relationships—they do their best to continue.

One middle-aged woman learned about her own resilience when her husband died, followed shortly thereafter by serious health problems of her own. The string of difficulties seemed unending, but she just carried on—one hour, one day, and one week at a time. It wasn’t easy, but it became easier with the passing of time.

And that’s the other hidden blessing of suffering: those experiences that seem to be weakening us are actually, in many cases, not only revealing our strength but also increasing it. They require resilience, but at the same time they teach us resilience. They prompt us to develop a more optimistic view by cultivating friendships with positive people. They move us to challenge our negative thoughts and strive for a larger perspective. They can even inspire us to reach out to others in love and kindness, which always helps us feel better. Ultimately, patiently bearing up under trials will develop in us the strength and resilience to bend but not break, to remain positive, and even to enjoy inner peace as the storms of life swirl around us.

In Clare Ansberry, “Resilience Can Be Learned,” Wall Street Journal, Mar. 25, 2015, D1, D3, www.wsj.com/articles/after-loss-how-to-learn-resilience-1427225009.

Continue reading

At the end of a long day of school and work, a busy college student was asked about his exhausting day. Instead of mentioning his difficult chemistry class or his burdensome homework assignment, he talked about the beautiful sunset he saw on his way home. The highlight of his day was a moment of awe.

Awe is what we feel when we encounter something vast and majestic, something bigger than ourselves. It breaks us free from the mundane and expands the way we see the world. We all need these moments of awe that calm our nerves, enlarge our perspective, and lift our attitude.

According to recent studies, awe-inspiring experiences “benefit us in all sorts of ways, from stronger health to improved relationships.” They make us quicker to help someone in need, more willing to share with others, and less interested in monetary rewards for the good we do.1

There seems to be something about awe-inspiring moments that puts life in perspective and inspires us to trust and connect with our fellow human beings. Such experiences make us feel small while at the same time making us want to reach out beyond the limits of our private circle and embrace all of humanity.

And the good news is that this glorious world is full of “awe experiences.” They’re all around us—all we have to do is look for them. That may mean taking a walk or a drive to see the beauties of nature. Or pausing to look deeply into a star-filled sky or at a glorious sunrise. Or watching grandkids having fun at a playground, or reveling in the joy of a new baby. Listening to inspiring music, watching an uplifting television program, or reading something enriching—all of these things can create awe. If we take the time to seek moments of awe, to appreciate something grand and glorious, to contemplate something bigger than ourselves, we may be surprised to find that our life is bigger, grander, and filled with more awe than we ever imagined.

1. See Elizabeth Bernstein, “Researchers Study Awe and Find It Is Good for Relationships,” Wall Street Journal, Feb. 23, 2015, D3; wsj.com/articles/researchers-study-awe-and-find-it-is-good-for-relationships-1424717882.

Continue reading

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.

But there is good news. With so much in life that seems beyond our control, our own anger does not have to be. We can do something about it! We can start by simply choosing to give others the benefit of the doubt. Instead of assuming they are purposefully attempting to harm us or offend us, we can choose to believe their motives are innocent. Truly, much of our anger is caused by unintentional offenses: the scowl, the thoughtless comment, even the seemingly deliberate snub may not have been intended.

It’s true that sometimes people do mean to offend or take advantage of us. But wise and contented people don’t let such irritation boil over into their commute, their relationships, their plans and expectations. They understand that a certain amount of unfairness and unkindness are part of life. But they don’t give inconsiderate people power over their happiness and contentment.

Yes, life can be exasperating, but if we let anger get the best of us, then we really have lost what’s best of us—our self-control and personal freedom. As Ralph Waldo Emerson wisely said, “For every minute you remain angry, you give up sixty seconds of peace of mind.”2 So when anger mounts, instead of getting upset about things we can’t control, we can pause, if only for a moment, breathe deeply, and count to 10—or 100 if necessary. As we replace anger with peace, hostility with understanding, and hatred with love and compassion, in a small but real way, we are making the world a better place.

See Jeanne Whalen, “Angry Outbursts Really Do Hurt Your Health, Doctors Find,” Wall Street Journal, Mar. 24, 2015, D1, wsj.com/articles/angry-outbursts-really-do-hurt-your-health-doctors-find-1427150596. 
In The Very Best of Ralph Waldo Emerson, ed. David Graham (2014), np.

Continue reading