Grammy nominee Jenny Oaks Baker performed as a soloist at Carnegie Hall and other famous venues around the world.  She was a first violinist in the National Symphony Orchestra for seven years before she resigned to spend more time with her husband and four children.

In this three minute video Jenny shares glimpses of her journey as a musician and as a stay-at-home mom.  The path wasn't always smooth.  Jenny knew she had been blessed with a gift, but struggled to discover her place in the musical world.  

She turned to her friend and fellow musician, Michael Ballam, who advised her to keep doing what's right and preparing to be the best she could be in her field.  He told her the Lord would open up doors -- and He surely has.  Jenny's music and example is blessing people all around the world.

I love how Jenny shares her testimony of the power of sacred music in the home.  Hope you enjoy watching her perform I am a Child of God with her four children.

February 27th is the anniversary of when the Word of Wisdom was given in 1833.  It reminds me of a story told by Elder L. Tom Perry of how a righteous young athlete named Creed Haymond chose to always keep the Word of Wisdom, even when his coach pressured him to drink alcohol, and how Creed was blessed and became an inspiring example to many.  

(We have a special place in our hearts for Creed Haymond in my family.  He was my dad's mission president in the Northern States Mission, and Dad had great love and respect for President Haymond, who treated him like a son.)

...[This is the story] about Creed Haymond, a young Mormon who applied and was accepted at the University of Pennsylvania. He was an athlete known for his speed, and because of the way he acted and participated, he was chosen to be the captain of the track team.

The annual meet of the Intercollegiate Association of Amateur Athletes of America was held at Harvard Stadium at the end of May of 1919. To Cambridge came the greatest college athletes—1,700 in all. In the tryouts, Penn had qualified 17 men. Cornell, their most feared rival that year, had qualified only 10. The Penn team was in position to be crowned the champions. The scores were made on the first five places—five for first, four for second, three for third, two for fourth, and one for fifth. Naturally, the team that qualified the most men had the greatest opportunity to win the meet.

The Penn coach was in high spirits the night before the meet. He made the rounds of his team members before he retired. He came into Creed’s room and said, “Creed, if we do our best tomorrow, we will run away with it.”

The coach hesitated. “Creed, I’m having the boys take a little sherry wine tonight. I want you to have some, just a little of course.”

“I won’t do it, Coach.”

“But, Creed, I’m not going to get you drunk. I know what you ‘Mormons’ believe. I’m giving you this as a tonic, just to put you all on your metal.”

“It won’t do me any good, Coach; I can’t take it.”

The coach replied, “Remember, Creed, you’re the captain of the team and our best point winner. Fourteen thousand students are looking to you personally to win this meet. If you fail us we’ll lose. I ought to know what is good for you.”

Creed knew that other coaches felt that a little wine was useful when men have trained muscles and nerves almost to the snapping point. He knew also that what the coach was asking him to do was against all that he had been taught from his early childhood. He looked his coach in the eye and said, “I won’t take it.”

The coach replied, “You’re a funny fellow, Creed. You won’t take tea at the training table. You have ideas of your own. Well, I’m going to let you do as you please.”

The coach then left the captain of the team in a state of extreme anxiety. Suppose he made a poor showing tomorrow. What could he say to his coach? He was going up against the fastest men in the world. Nothing less than his best would do. His stubbornness might lose the meet for Penn. His teammates were told what to do, and they had responded. They believed in their coach. What right did he have to disobey? There was only one reason. He had been taught all his life to obey the Word of Wisdom.

It was a critical hour in this young man’s life. With all the spiritual forces of his nature pressing in on him, he knelt down and earnestly asked the Lord to give him a testimony as to the source of this revelation that he had believed in and obeyed. Then he went to his bed and slept in sound slumber.

The next morning the coach came into his room and asked, “How are you feeling, Creed?”

“Fine,” the captain answered cheerfully.

“All of the other fellows are ill. I don’t know what’s the matter with them,” the coach said seriously.

“Maybe it’s the tonic you gave them, Coach.”

“Maybe so,” answered the coach.

Two o’clock found 20,000 spectators in their seats waiting for the meet to begin. As the events got under way, it was plain that something was wrong with the wonderful Penn team. Event after event, the Penn team performed well below what was expected of them. Some members were even too ill to participate.

The 100- and 220-yard dash were Creed’s races. The Penn team desperately needed him to win for them. He was up against the five fastest men in American colleges. As the men took their marks for the 100-yard dash and the pistol was shot, every man sprang forward into the air and touched the earth at a run—that is, all except one—Creed Haymond. The runner using the second lane in the trials—the lane that Creed was running in at this particular event—had kicked a hole for his toe an inch or two behind the spot where Haymond had just chosen for his. They didn’t use starting blocks in those days. With the tremendous thrust that Creed gave, the narrow wedge of earth broke through, and he came down on his knee behind the line.

He got up and tried to make up for the poor start. At 60 yards, he was last in the race. Then he seemed to fly past the fifth man, then the fourth, then the third, then the second. Close to the tape, heart bursting with strain, he swept into that climax with whirlwind swiftness and ran past the final man to victory.

Through some mistake in arrangements, the semifinals for the 220 were not completed until almost the close of the meet. With the same bad breaks that had followed the Penn team all day, Creed Haymond had been placed in the last qualifying heat for the 220-yard dash. Then, five minutes after winning it, he was called upon to start the final 220, the last event of the day. One of the other men who had run in an earlier heat rushed up to him. “Tell the starter you demand a rest before running again. You’re entitled to it under the rules. I’ve hardly caught my breath yet and I ran in the heat before yours.”

Creed went panting to the starter and begged for more time. The official said he would give him 10 minutes. But the crowd was clamoring for the final race to begin. Regretfully he called the men to their marks. Under ordinary conditions Creed would not have feared this race. He was probably the fastest man in the world at that distance, but yet he had already run three races that afternoon—one the heart-stopping 100-yard dash.

The starter ordered the breathless men to their marks, raised his pistol, and with a puff of smoke the race began. This time the Penn captain literally shot from his marks. Soon Creed emerged from the crowd and took the lead. He sprinted all the way up the field, and with a burst of speed and eight yards ahead of the nearest man, he broke the tape, winning the second race—the 220-yard dash.

Penn had lost the meet, but their captain had astounded the fans with his excellent runs.

At the end of that strange day, as Creed Haymond was going to bed, there suddenly came to his memory his question of the night before regarding the divinity of the Word of Wisdom. The procession of that peculiar series of events then passed before his mind—his teammates had taken wine and had failed; his abstinence had brought victories that even amazed himself. The sweet simple assurance of the Spirit came to him: the Word of Wisdom is of God. (Adapted from Joseph J. Cannon, “Speed and the Spirit,” Improvement Era, Oct. 1928, 1001–7.)

Read the Rest: "Run and Not Be Weary"

Love this video of the Chavez family!  You can feel their love for each other as they cook, clean and spend time together.  

Although it wasn't easy, Conni, a single mother of four, let her kids start helping her in the kitchen when they were little.  Over the years they have learned to make pizza, spanish rice, lasagna, guacamole, and other family favorites.

“When they were younger, I never could have imagined the miracle this would produce. It’s kind of like the glue that held everything together," says Conni.

The kitchen is their favorite gathering place, but it doesn't really matter what they are doing. Fun times, important family conversations, great food and precious memories filled with love are all rolled into one!  

Lots of super, yet simple, ideas in this four minute video...

This won’t come as a surprise to my kids, but now they have it in writing. 

In fact, next time it comes up, maybe I’ll just send a link and a wink.

Oakli, Jadi, Kason and Koleson, I love you.

I love you more than you know, maybe more than you’ll ever know. Each of you is talented, kind, funny and imperfect. All four of you are works-in-progress, just like your flawed folks. And you bring me and your mother more happiness than we can articulate.

But never forget: Mom comes first.

Here’s the thing, kiddos. You’re players on the team, and I need you in the game. But your mother isn’t just some assistant coach calling the dishwashing, cooking and make-your-bed-or-else plays.

She’s our co-head coach, a full partner. Without her, this team would have a laughable, losing record.

Remember, my time on the field with you is more or less 18 years. Sure, we could go overtime for college summers and any short-term boomerangs back home while you chase employment. But in time, you’ll each find someone to pair up with and start a team of your own.

You’re kids. We get it. Sometimes you’re tempted to pit one parent against the other. I did it, too. We approach one coach for this and the other coach for that.

If you fear one will say “no,” you ask the other instead. Sometimes, you even ignore the first coach’s answer and cozy up to the second one for another shot.

Yep. I did that, too. And just like every other parent, we don’t like it.

Even more importantly, I’ll never forget the scene that came next.

When I hoped the dust had settled, I went looking for my mother. I found her sitting on a log that bordered our garden at the far edge of our side yard. Her back was to the house and even from a distance, I could tell she was crying.

But she wasn’t alone.

Dad sat at her right. He had his big arm around her. She was his.

The image is unshakable three decades later. They were a team.

While I knew my dad loved me, I knew that my mother came first. They are bound in this life and the next. He loved me and my siblings, but I wasn’t his best friend. He absolutely cherished our time together, but his wife was his top priority.

Mom came first.

Kids, it’s taken me time to understand this, but you aren’t really ours. You’re just in our care for a short time. You belong to a loving God who is your first Creator, your spiritual Father, and His perfect love for you is even tougher to describe than ours.

He’s a partner in our marriage. He and His son, the only Begotten One, are the reason our marriage is more than a legal contract between two consenting adults. It’s an eternal bond only possible by Them and through Them.

While I have faith our relationships with you will also endure beyond this life and into the next, it is your mom who is my best friend, my eternal companion, my co-head coach and the one with whom I am equally yoked.

Kids, I love you. But don’t ever forget that no matter the day, the debate, the game or how much time is on the clock, Mom comes first.


This article was originally published on JasonFWright.com  It is shared here with permission.

I LOVE this one minute video!  It made me laugh out loud.  

Moms can work from dawn to dusk and not have anything visible to show for our best efforts. But if we do our best to be kind, patient and cheerful, we will, day by day, build loving, lasting relationships. Our kids will develop important attitudes and skills as they watch and "help" us. And before long we realize how quickly the days with our little ones disappear.

I think this scripture may have been written for parents:  "And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not."  ~Galatians 6:9

The two minute park adventure below is fun too.  

We need sequels at the grocery store and library!

If your parents forced you to practice your scales by saying it would ‘build character,’ they were onto something. 

The Washington Post reports that one of the largest scientific studies into music’s effect on the brain has found something striking:  Musical training doesn’t just affect your musical ability—it provides tremendous benefits to children’s emotional and behavioral maturation. . . . 

The study provides even more evidence as to why providing children with high-quality music education may be one of the most effective ways to ensure their success in life.

This statement confirms something that I have always felt and believed about the many benefits of learning to play the piano: 

1) Increased self-esteem results from mastering progressively difficult music and performing it on recitals; 

2) Eye-hand coordination is improved as both hands (and a pedal foot) learn to work independently of one another; 

3) Ability to memorize improves; 

4) Time-management skills increase from planning times to practice; and 

5) Students become more well-rounded as they learn to appreciate the beauty of music.

Read the Rest: LDSMag.com

I made pizza one night. It was an ordinary night. There was dough. There was sauce. There was cheese and pepperoni and ham and pineapple and even a few vegetables. Offhandedly I commented that we should have a pizza night every week. Then it was done.

I had good intentions of following through with that offhanded comment, and we had pizza the next Saturday night, but life got in the way the next weekend, and then it was the holidays and we had a houseful of people and commitments and commotion.

I forgot about weekly pizza night.

The first weekend after all the company was home, Hyrum asked if we were having pizza on Saturday "because it's a family tradition." I agreed, and once again, out came the flour and oil and sauce and toppings.

As we knelt in prayer as our family that night, Hyrum thanked Heavenly Father "for our family and for our family traditions." Until that moment, I hadn't realized how important that Saturday night ritual had become to my littlest boy--how this small act unites our family every week. How it shows him that I love him.

You can bet that we've had homemade pizza every week since. In fact, I'm on my way into the kitchen right now to make the dough.

Get the Secret Sauce:  Jenny's Fabulous Pizza Recipe


This article was originally published on DentonSanatorium.com. It is shared here with permission.

"Successful marriages and families are established and maintained on principles of faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness, respect, love, compassion, work, and wholesome recreational activities. By divine design, fathers are to preside over their families in love and righteousness and are responsible to provide the necessities of life and protection for their families. Mothers are primarily responsible for the nurture of their children. In these sacred responsibilities, fathers and mothers are obligated to help one another as equal partners."

~The Family: A Proclamation to the World

Read the Rest:  To Become as One

My oldest daughter, Jenna, recently said to me, “My greatest fear as a child was that you and mom would get divorced. Then, when I was twelve, I decided that you fought so much that maybe it would be better if you did.” Then she added with a smile. “I’m glad you guys figured things out.”

For years my wife Keri and I struggled. Looking back, I’m not exactly sure what initially drew us together, but our personalities didn’t quite match up. And the longer we were married the more extreme the differences seemed. Encountering “fame and fortune” didn’t make our marriage any easier. In fact, it exacerbated our problems. The tension between us got so bad that going out on book tour became a relief, though it seems we always paid for it on re-entry. Our fighting became so constant that it was difficult to even imagine a peaceful relationship. We became perpetually defensive, building emotional fortresses around our hearts. We were on the edge of divorce and more than once we discussed it.

I was on book tour when things came to a head. We had just had another big fight on the phone and Keri had hung up on me. I was alone and lonely, frustrated and angry. I had reached my limit. That’s when I turned to God. Or turned on God. I don’t know if you could call it prayer–maybe shouting at God isn’t prayer, maybe it is–but whatever I was engaged in I’ll never forget it. I was standing in the shower of the Buckhead, Atlanta Ritz-Carlton yelling at God that marriage was wrong and I couldn’t do it anymore. As much as I hated the idea of divorce, the pain of being together was just too much. I was also confused. I couldn’t figure out why marriage with Keri was so hard. Deep down I knew that Keri was a good person. And I was a good person. So why couldn’t we get along? Why had I married someone so different than me? Why wouldn’t she change?

Finally, hoarse and broken, I sat down in the shower and began to cry. In the depths of my despair powerful inspiration came to me. You can’t change her, Rick. You can only change yourself. At that moment I began to pray. If I can’t change her, God, then change me. I prayed late into the night. I prayed the next day on the flight home. I prayed as I walked in the door to a cold wife who barely even acknowledged me. That night, as we lay in our bed, inches from each other yet miles apart, the inspiration came. I knew what I had to do. 

The next morning I rolled over in bed next to Keri and asked, “How can I make your day better?”

Keri looked at me angrily. “What?”

“How can I make your day better?”

“You can’t,” she said. “Why are you asking that?”

“Because I mean it,” I said. “I just want to know what I can do to make your day better.”

She looked at me cynically. “You want to do something? Go clean the kitchen.”

She likely expected me to get mad. Instead I just nodded. “Okay.” I got up and cleaned the kitchen.

The next day I asked the same thing. “What can I do to make your day better?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Clean the garage.”

I took a deep breath. I already had a busy day and I knew she had made the request in spite. I was tempted to blow up at her. Instead I said, “Okay.” I got up and for the next two hours cleaned the garage. Keri wasn’t sure what to think.

The next morning came. “What can I do to make your day better?”

“Nothing!” she said. “You can’t do anything. Please stop saying that.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “But I can’t. I made a commitment to myself. What can I do to make your day better?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I care about you,” I said. “And our marriage.”

The next morning I asked again. And the next. And the next. Then, during the second week, a miracle occurred. As I asked the question Keri’s eyes welled up with tears. Then she broke down crying. When she could speak she said, “Please stop asking me that. You’re not the problem. I am. I’m hard to live with. I don’t know why you stay with me.”

I gently lifted her chin until she was looking in my eyes. “It’s because I love you,” I said. “What can I do to make your day better?”

“I should be asking you that.”

“You should,” I said. “But not now. Right now, I need to be the change. You need to know how much you mean to me.”

She put her head against my chest. “I’m sorry I’ve been so mean.”

“I love you,” I said.

“I love you,” she replied.

“What can I do to make your day better?”

She looked at me sweetly. “Can we maybe just spend some time together?”

I smiled. “I’d like that.”

I continued asking for more than a month. And things did change. The fighting stopped. Then Keri began asking, “What do you need from me? How can I be a better wife?”

The walls between us fell. We began having meaningful discussions on what we wanted from life and how we could make each other happier. No, we didn’t solve all our problems. I can’t even say that we never fought again. But the nature of our fights changed. Not only were they becoming more and more rare, they lacked the energy they’d once had. We’d deprived them of oxygen. We just didn’t have it in us to hurt each other anymore.

Keri and I have now been married for more than thirty years. I not only love my wife, I like her. I like being with her. I crave her. I need her. Many of our differences have become strengths and the others don’t really matter. We’ve learned how to take care of each other and, more importantly, we’ve gained the desire to do so.

Marriage is hard. But so is parenthood and keeping fit and writing books and everything else important and worthwhile in my life. To have a partner in life is a remarkable gift. I’ve also learned that the institution of marriage can help heal us of our most unlovable parts. And we all have unlovable parts.

Through time I’ve learned that our experience was an illustration of a much larger lesson about marriage. The question everyone in a committed relationship should ask their significant other is, “What can I do to make your life better?” That is love. Romance novels (and I’ve written a few) are all about desire and happily-ever-after, but happily-ever-after doesn’t come from desire–at least not the kind portrayed in most pulp romances. Real love is not to desire a person, but to truly desire their happiness–sometimes, even, at the expense of our own happiness. Real love is not to make another person a carbon copy of one’s self. It is to expand our own capabilities of tolerance and caring, to actively seek another’s well being. All else is simply a charade of self-interest.

I’m not saying that what happened to Keri and me will work for everyone. I’m not even claiming that all marriages should be saved. But for me, I am incredibly grateful for the inspiration that came to me that day so long ago. I’m grateful that my family is still intact and that I still have my wife, my best friend, in bed next to me when I wake in the morning. And I’m grateful that even now, decades later, every now and then, one of us will still roll over and say, “What can I do to make your day better.” Being on either side of that question is something worth waking up for.


This article was originally published on Richard Paul Evans Blog. It is shared here with permission.


Richard Paul Evans is the #1 New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of The Christmas Box and the Michael Vey series. He is also author of the NewYork Times bestselling The Walk series, story of a man who, upon losing his wife, home and business, decides to walk across America. 

Love is more than a feeling that can fade over time.  Genuine love is a commitment to the welfare and happiness of another.  This beautiful couple is an inspiring example of real love.

"Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it."  ~Ephesians 5:25

"Marriage provides an ideal setting for overcoming any tendency to be selfish or self-centered. … Pure love is an incomparable, potent power for good and the foundation of a successful marriage."  ~Elder Richard G. Scott

"And charity suffereth long, and is kind, and envieth not, and is not puffed up, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil, and rejoiceth not in iniquity but rejoiceth in the truth, beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things."  
~Moroni 7:45

Image Source: YouTube