Home should be a haven of love. Honor, courtesy, and respect symbolize love and characterize the righteous family.
Fathers in such homes will not hear the denunciation of the Lord as recorded in the book of Jacob from the Book of Mormon: “Ye have broken the hearts of your tender wives, and lost the confidence of your children, because of your bad examples before them; and the sobbings of their hearts ascend up to God against you” (Jacob 2:35).
Where love is, there is no disputation. Where love is, there is no contention. Where love is, there God will be also. Each of us has the responsibility to keep His commandments.
In this world in which we live, there is a tendency for us to describe needed change, required help, and desired relief with the familiar phrase, “They ought to do something about this.” We fail to define the word they. I love the message, “Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me.”
Tears came to my eyes when I read of a young boy who noticed a vagrant asleep on a sidewalk and who then went to his own bedroom, retrieved his pillow, and placed it beneath the head of that one whom he knew not. Perhaps there came from the past these welcome words: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” (Matt. 25:40).
I extol those who, with loving care and compassionate concern, feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and house the homeless. He who notes the sparrow’s fall will not be unmindful of such service.
The desire to lift, the willingness to help, and the graciousness to give come from a heart filled with love. Somehow the memory of one’s mother prompts such loving concern.
Some years ago there passed from mortality a friend who helped more people, spoke more eulogies, and gave more freely of his time, his talents, and his possessions than most. His name was Louis. He related to me this tender account:
A gentle, soft-spoken mother had passed away. She left to her stalwart sons and lovely daughters no fortune of finance but, rather, a heritage of wealth in example, in sacrifice, in obedience. After the funeral eulogies had been spoken and the sad trek to the cemetery had been made, the grown family sorted through the meager possessions the mother had left. Louis discovered a note and also a key. The note instructed: “In the corner bedroom, in the bottom drawer of my dresser, is a tiny box. It contains the treasure of my heart. This key will open the box.” Another son asked, “What could Mother have of sufficient value to be placed under lock and key?” A sister commented, “Dad has been gone all these years, and Mother has had precious little of this world’s goods.”
The box was removed from its resting place in the dresser drawer and opened carefully with the aid of the key. What did it contain? No money, no deed, no precious rings or valuable jewels. Louis took from the box a faded photograph of his father. On the back of the photograph was the penned message, “My dear husband and I were sealed together for time and all eternity in the House of the Lord, at Salt Lake City, December 12, 1891.”
Next there emerged an individual photo of each child, with his or her name and birth date. Finally, Louis held to the light a homemade valentine. In crude, childlike penmanship, which he recognized as his own, Louis read the words he had written 60 years before: “Dear Mother, I love you.”
Hearts were tender, voices soft, and eyes moist. Mother’s treasure was her eternal family. Its strength rested on the bedrock foundation of “I love you.”
True love is a reflection of Christ’s love. You can hear it. You can see it. You can feel it. But never alone.