ABOUT AN IMPACTFUL ERA IN LADIES HAIR FASHION

Female readers of Wrights Lane may get a kick out of seeing the above ad from the Chatham Daily News in November of 1939 which featured Wright's Beauty Salon specials for the upcoming Christmas (Yuletide) season. 

Boy, look at those prices! Have times ever changed in more ways than one!

My father, Ken Wright, was an innovator and even developed his own hair tonics, solutions and shampoo. He built his King Street West business in downtown Chatham on creative permanent waves, cold waves, finger waves and simple cuts at an affordable price, a mere token of what it costs today for a trip to a hairdressing establishment.

After a period of successfully building clientele and in spite of Ken's best efforts to stay afloat during tough times brought on by unfortunate timing of the Second World War, unanticipated competition created with the introduction of the Toni Home Permanent in the early 1940's proved to be a death knell for hair businesses like his.

The creation of Toni Home Permanent opened the door for women who wanted a permanent wave without having to pay for it at a beauty shop. On the heels of a highly financed debut, the folks at The Toni Company were finding ways to make their star product better -- and to let the public know of its achievement. In other words, Toni Home Permanent was going head-on with the other brands of home permanents of the era --  and more importantly, the perms that were done professionally at beauty parlors across the country.

A few readers may be old enough to remember that in order to get the word out on air waves, announcer Bill Cullen of quiz show fame was contracted to describe a classic advertising promotion on the popular Toni-sponsored serial radio program "This Is Nora Drake" and the entertaining drama, "Casey, Crime Photographer."

The ad promotion featured identical twin sisters who had identical and immaculate waves in their hair. There was a slight difference, however. One twin supposedly had her hair done professionally at a beauty parlor, and the other twin used Toni on her hair at home. The classic question Cullen asked listeners was, “Which twin has the Toni?” Unless the people were told (and they usually were in the small print of magazine and newspaper ads), it was inconclusive which twin had what. 

Now bear in mind, the cost of Ken Wright's perms ranged from a reasonable $2.50 to $5.00 compared to $2 for a novelty Toni Kit, which included waving solution and plastic curlers. But in those days, a saving was a saving. Interestingly, this was at a time when men were paying an almost unbelievable 50 cents to have their ears lowered by a barber, so it all remains relative to this day.

It was a no-brainer, it seemed, for the ladies who wanted a professional looking wave, to try Toni at home and save the extra money for something else in her household budget. As an added note, once the Toni Kit was purchased, when another Toni perm was the order of the day, the Toni Refill (bottle of waving solution only) was available for $1. Botched home jobs were often noticeable to the practised and discriminating eye, but that's beside the point.

“The Toni Twins” promotion was so popular, the phrase “Which Twin Has The Toni?” became a part of the language of the day.

With a staff of three hairdressers, operational overhead and a profit margin already slashed to bare bones, the writing appeared on the wall for my dad. He sold the struggling business for a song in 1945 and returned to his hometown of Dresden where he resumed barbering, a trade in which he apprenticed 25 years earlier.

If by some strange quirk of happenstance I'd decided to go into the hair cutting and styling business in later years, Ken would have turned over in his grave...and my mother along with him.

The novelty of do-it-yourself home permanents for women was destined to wear off in a couple of decades, giving way to a convenience-at-all-costs, less fuss and less muss generation. Hair dressers today seem to be more than holding their own in a more affluent, grooming conscious market, thank you very much!

Ken Wright was born about 50 years too soon.

SEPARATING WHEAT FROM THE CHAFF -- MACHINE

I come from a long line of expressive individuals who use old sayings in conversations, many times at the expense of showing my age. "Separating wheat from the chaff," is one of them. In fact the expression actually appeared for perhaps the first time in the New Testament of the Bible, Matthew 3:12.

Separating wheat from chaff immediately came to mind the other day when I came across a fading photograph of an old fanning mill developed in the late 1800's by W. A. Gerolamy of nearby Tara. In the fanning-mill business at the time, he set about making improvements to the process of fanning and eventually created a new machine destined to become world famous.

In fact the heavy piece of fanning  equipment (seen above) actually won prizes at the Chicago World's Fair in 1893 and the Paris World's Fair in 1900.

Looking back through history it is evident that innovation like this has not, and never has been, limited to Silicon Valley and futuristic sci-fi-inspired prototypes. Innovation is often born out of necessity and has gone part and parcel with rural, small community life where a practical need and independence have had a habit of intersecting.

The mother of invention, as it were.

Gerolamy's separating wheat from the chaff machine is currently on display at the Bruce County Museum and Culture Centre in Southampton.

I've got to go see it!

HUMANITY IS IN THE HANDS OF ARTIFICIAL INTELLEGENCE

Increasingly, there are times when I am relieved that I will not be around to witness certain things that are in store for society, even in the next couple of decades.

Whether we realize it or not, artificial intelligence has entered all our lives. From Google maps to the Uber app, voice assistants like Siri and Alexa, and face recognition to unlock our phones, A.I. is here to stay. But that's just the tip of the digital iceberg.  We are told that so-called "Super artificial intelligence (SAI) will exceed the best human-level intelligence in every field, including social skills, general wisdom, and scientific creativity," among others. Even more alarming, artificial intelligence will one day become a billion times smarter than humans and it has been predicted that it will exceed human intelligence as soon as 2029. "The time is now to influence it with the right ethics to have humanity's best interests in mind." No question about it, at no period in history has the risk of technology ruining our humanity been any greater. Unsurprisingly, collective brains have gone into overdrive on this topic. Science is already making a lot of progress in bioengineering, synthetic molecules and exo-skeletons. These and other spectacular advances hold the promise of proactively repairing human bodies damaged by disease, accident or conflict. Aside from this “self-repairing” future, humans can already do amazing things. We can fly thanks to planes. We can speed across the surface of our planet at will thanks to the motor vehicle. The knowledge to cope with just about any situation is instantly available to us via our smartphone. So in a way, we are already enhanced humans compared with the generations that came before us. But, these devices can be used as options and require man-machine interfaces like joysticks, steering wheels and keypads. How do we do away with the interface and use machines to make the human intrinsically better? That’s when we start talking about plugging the internet directly into the brain or sending impressions directly on to our retinas, without the need for cumbersome screens and keyboards. Just imagine how, in a few years, such a connection could empower you in a business meeting or when you meet someone new that you desperately want to impress. You could adjust what you say and how you empathize with the other person based on social network profiles and other information collected in real time on the internet. Clearly the other person could be equipped with the same device. And, as repulsive as it may be, the outcome of the interaction could very well depend on who downloaded the latest and most efficient software upgrade. So how can we make humans better without stealing humanity itself? It doesn't take long to agree that advances in medicine have saved lives or relieved pain and that is a good thing. However, performance-enhancing drugs, in the context of competitive sports, might not always be positive.  There is the clear and present danger of a short-term trade of better performance for long-term poor health, not to mention the destruction of the level playing field. But what if that performance-enhancing drug allowed a surgeon to carry out longer and more complex interventions with a higher success rate? What if we were the executives of tomorrow’s drug regulator? How would we write the rules for what enhancements are authorized (and for what purpose) and which are forbidden? What criteria would we use? Agreed, the first rule would ensure that enhancing the performance of one person is not detrimental to the freedom of another. But then some enhancement might be appropriate for some individuals but detrimental for a community, a society or the entire human race. While this point is just the tip of the ice burg and one of many to be considered with the artificial intelligence equation, who can be certain that helping the human race live longer is a positive given the finite resources available to sustain a burgeoning, aged population? Good question! I'll leave it at that. Over to my grandchildren and their children's children. God bless -- and help -- them!

A GOODBYE SALUTE TO MY FIRST NEWSPAPER EDITOR

A newspaper reporter never forgets his/her first editor. The guy who was a master intimidator, not beyond giving a cub reporter a piece of his mind all the while tossing a handful of copy paper back at you for re-write...or, worse yet, adding insult to injury as you helplessly stood by while he handed your work over to a senior reporter for a flushing out in more acceptable journalistic form.

Lawrence J. "Laurie" Beavis was one of those old-time throw back editors, but so much more existed under that tough newsroom persona. He passed away the other day in St. Thomas at a remarkable 95 years of age.

Laurence J. "Laurie" Beavis
...a news man's news man

City editor of the St. Thomas Times-Journal in my day, 1961-'72, Laurie eventually became publisher and general manager of the newspaper before retiring after a remarkable 37 years of service.

Laurie and then Managing Editor Hugh Agnew, hired me (took a chance, may be a better way of phrasing it) as a very green

cub reporter, fresh off a baseball field and a stint in the men's clothing business. There were no journalism schools in those days...You learned the hard way -- on the job.

Laurie was to become my first real mentor (i.e. insisting on the fundamental who, what, where and when in the lead paragraphs of all news reports coupled with constant checking of facts) and an eventual career influencer to be sure.

He did not wear his predecessor's shaded eisenglass peeked cap, but he had everything else -- the traditional stern demeanor, shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a chest pocket full of pencils and pens stuffed into a protective plastic holder. 

I can still hear him pounding on his trusty, 1930's vintage Underwood typewriter with only the forefingers of each hand as he banged out quick editorials after the paper went to press each day at noon. It should be explained that I could hear him, but I could not always see the lower half of his six-foot, five-inch frame as it hovered over a typical 12-inch high mound of assorted papers that he managed to collect on his desk in the course of a week.

The Laurie I remember, 
minus his shot of navy rum.

Cutting reporter's teeth on the police and court beat, my first landing spot and allotted hand-bomber typewriter was located directly in front of where Laurie held forth his command on the rather spacious second floor of the newspaper plant. I was initially a convenient target for dreaded obituary writeups, other odd and sod tasks and surprise non-writing assignments like doing in-person wakeup calls for reporters who frequently slept in past deadline time after a night of imbibing while out on the town.

One of the most memorable "wake up" assignments afforded me was attending the rooming house of a very tardy sports editor, still downing a beer when I knocked on his door. Needless to say, I was unable to get the dishevelled sad sack back to the newsroom on time and he was fired on the spot when he did arrive. The T.-J. carried a makeshift sports page that day, for sure, sans overnight local game report notes which remained unwritten and the forgotten custody of the departed sports editor. 

The unfortunate incident, however, left an opening for me and I boldly took the initiative to jump on the opportunity. "Why not try me on the sports desk instead of hiring someone new," I reasoned after mustering up the necessary fortitude. Taken somewhat aback, Laurie replied, "Are you sure? Do you think you can handle it?"

I was never more sure of anything in my life and a half dozen enjoyable years of sports writing ensued. I'd found a niche and was on my way up the ladder.

The Simcoe Reformer temporarily lured me at one point in 1966 but I soon found my way back to the T.-J. at Laurie's invitation, this time as his news desk assistance and City Editor. If I do say so myself, I think we bucked the odds and worked well together, five days a week and side by side in the news room for almost six years. Every other Saturday we held down the news desk individually while the other enjoyed a long (two-day) weekend. In the end, he gave me his blessing knowing that I was anxious to further my career by "running my own show" (his words) elsewhere.

After I accepted a managing editor position in the Thomson newspaper organization in 1973, Laurie remained a long-distance source of consultation and advice for me until he retired.

Born in Ripon, Yorkshire, UK, he was a British Army veteran, commissioned into the West Yorkshire Regiment in 1946 and served with the British War Crimes Commission investigating Japanese war crimes in Singapore and Burma. As a reservist, he was recalled in 1950 for the Korean War and attached to the Royal Northumberland Fusiliers where he served as an infantry platoon commander during the 1951 Battle of the Imjin, all of which explained his penchant for regimentation.

With a brief introduction to British newspapering in London, Laurie and his wife Helen (a talented actress) came to Canada and ultimately St. Thomas in about 1953. They had a son and two daughters -- Bruce, Allison and Jennifer -- not long after arrival.

Active in the community, Laurie was a life-time blood donor and a past president of the Canadian Red Cross, St. Thomas Branch; past president of the Rotary Club and an honorary life member of Rotary International. He was also a prominent participant in United Way and was a member of the founding committee of St. Thomas-Elgin Crime Stoppers. A strong supporter of Scouts Canada, Laurie served as a unit leader as well as Elgin District Commissioner and Assistant Provincial commissioner, Ontario. He was instrumental in the establishment of Camp Timken, the Elgin District Scout Reserve located in nearby Iona.

In retirement, he was a volunteer member of the Elgin Military Museum. Besides travel with his family, he enjoyed woodworking and wood carving and was the founder of the St. Thomas Wood Carver's Club.

Wife Helen passed away in March of 2013 after 63 years of marriage and daughter Allison followed in July of 2020. The epidemy of a husband and father, I don't think LJB fully recovered after those losses.

Laurie Beavis lived a good and full life, indeed. Hardly a day goes by without thinking of him, especially when I fire up my computer and prepare to develop a story idea.

He also often appears in one of my recurring nightmares where we are struggling to meet a deadline long after it has expired. Luckily I always manage to wake up before facing the bitter consequences and predictable ire of a too-ready-to-pounce production manager.

In putting a wrap on all of this I salute the old platoon commander this one last time!

That's my Take 30 on a long-gone life experience story...and sadly a newspaper era, never to be repeated.

GET READY FOR COMPASSIONATE ACCOUNTABILITY

Compassionate accountability is a relatively new term to me and it might be for Wrights Lane readers too. But get ready, you'll be hearing a lot more about it in the future. 


Compassionate accountability is a commitment to kind self-truth telling. It is the act of stepping up to the authorship of your life. It is the gentle re-establishment of faith bounded by principles that you protect just as much for yourself as you do for others.



From road rage levelled at bad drivers on commutes to coping with rude coworkers and beyond, dealing with difficult people is never easy or enjoyable -- and even less so if you lack the self-awareness to know that you might well be the difficult person. That said, it doesn't need to be impossible.

Marc Lesser, a Zen master who brought emotional intelligence training to Google, says we can actually learn a lot about dealing with difficult people by simply being still and looking inward.

"An important and fundamental distinction to make is between 'difficult people' and behaviors or actions that we find difficult," Lesser says in an upcoming book.

While there are evolutionary benefits to that practice in terms of avoiding danger, in today's world, it simply doesn't work. Why? Because, he explains, "We tend to judge others by the impact their actions have on us. We judge ourselves by our intentions."

The key to dealing with "difficult people," Lesser adds, is compassionate accountability. How do we do that? "Be curious, not furious."

Sounds good on paper, right!

All worthy of serious consideration...and a searching look within ourselves.

The main message of Compassionate Accountability is that the struggle is real, the struggle isn’t going away, and that by changing HOW we struggle, we can change the world inside us and around us. There are three ways to struggle with others toward something better. Openness to one’s own and others’ feelings, needs, and wants, all of which validates emotions without commiserating or discounting.

Resourcefulness around problem-solving curiously explores possibilities without taking over responsibility for the solution...
Persistence around commitments, goals and boundaries without threats, ultimatums, or implicit expectations.

Compassion without accountability gets you nowhere. Accountability without compassion gets you alienated. We'd be wise to think about that!

EXTENDING "LOYALTY" ON VALENTINE'S DAY

How Many Times Is "Love" Mentioned in the Bible? Well, it depends on your translation! According to the King James Version, the word "love" appears 310 times. But when the King James was updated into the New King James, the number changed to 361!

English Standard Version: 551 times!
New Living Translation: 645 times!

For many years I struggled with the correct context for expressing love in general. In a word, I felt uncomfortable with how the expression would be received, i.e. wrong impression.

On Valentine’s Day, love can get reduced to cards, flowers and chocolates for a significant other. But is that what the Bible means by love?

Is "love" just a warm and fuzzy feeling? A pleasing emotion? A comfortable state of mind? Or does Scripture mean something more when it refers to loving God and each other?

As with all biblical interpretations, one must take into consideration the early period of time in which the Scriptures were written, as opposed to today when so much has changed in life as we know it. 

Deuteronomy 6:5 states, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your life and with all your strength.” But what does it mean to “love” God according to ancient Israelite thought? 

For the biblical authors, love isn’t just an intense form of “liking” or some kind of “warm feeling” for another; rather, the most common Hebrew word for “love” (אהבה; ahavah) expresses loyalty.

And it has nothing to do with the relieving of loins through sexual intercourse.

To understand love as “loyalty” in Deut 6:5, we need to read the verse in the context of what comes right before it: the Shema. Most English translations of Deut 6:4 read, “Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one (אחד; echad).” While the Hebrew אחד can mean “one,” echad can also mean “alone.” 

Here’s a stronger translation of Deut 6:4: “Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord alone.” That is, the Lord is Israel’s God, and the people of Israel must “not go after other gods” (Deut 6:14); they must “love,” or be “loyal” to, the Lord alone.

The loyalty we have for the God of the universe -- to the exclusion of all other gods -- extends to our fellow human beings, particularly those who are less familiar to us. Leviticus uses the exact same word for our “loyalty” to God in the command to love the stranger.

When it comes to the heavenly realm, we are to be loyal to God alone; but here on earth, God commands us to pledge that same loyalty to those around us.

So, to everyone reading this Wrights Lane post, I extend my sincere "loyalty" on Valentine's Day...and every other day.

THE APRON: A SYMBOL OF MOM'S WARMTH AND LOVE IN GENERATIONS PAST

As is my periodic nostalgic inclination, I was thinking with fondness the other day about aprons worn by housewives when I was growing up in the 1930-'40 era.

I dare say that there is not a child born today who knows anything about aprons.

For the most part, aprons are recognized in the 21st. Century as the exclusive domain of high-end butchers, bakers and restaurant chefs.

My flashback recollection of the good old days was prompted as I carefully folded and placed one of two "novelty" BBQ aprons back on a closet shelf after wearing it to prepare Christmas dinner last Dec. 25th.

My apron, not like Mom's
but it did the job.

Having dressed in one of my best sweaters and pair of trousers on that particular special morning, and always a proponent of getting more than one day's use out of any form of clothing, I opted for digging out the almost forgotten apron as cover against the inevitable spills and splashes I would be exposed to as I labored over the turkey and all its trimmings in the kitchen that day.

Exactly what aprons were/are intended for. Right?

The principle use of tie-at-the-back aprons worn by moms, grandmas and aunts in my day was to protect the dress underneath because women's wardrobes were by no means as extensive as they are today. It was also because it was easier to wash an apron than it was a dress...and aprons used less laundry soap in the old style  wringer washing machines of the time period.

Of course, there were rather plain aprons for every day use around the house and more fancy, fashionable styles for when catering to company and special occasion gatherings.

Aprons were especially handy as pot holders for removing hot pans from the stove and useful for drying children's tears...and on occasion, cleaning out dirty ears, even runny noses, all in lieu of the luxury of facial tissue and paper towels so readily available today.

Old aprons also wiped many a perspiring brow while hovering over a hot wood stove and its boiling containers of soups and stews.

From the back yard chicken coop, the apron was bunched up and used for gently carrying eggs into the house. When company came, those long colorful gingham and cotton coverings provided ideal hiding places for shy kids. 

From the garden they carried all sorts of fruits and vegetables. After peas were shelled, they also carried out the pod hulls.

When unexpected company pulled into the driveway, it was surprising how much furniture an apron could dust in a matter of seconds. 

And when dinner was ready, the apron was customarily waved from a back porch as a signal to the men working in the field and garden that it was time to come in and 'tie on the feed bag.'

Aprons, for me, always represented a motherly comfort, authority,  warmth...and home.

Clean freaks and those afflicted with germaphobia would no doubt go crazy today trying to figure out how many germs were actually carried on those old aprons. But I don't think that I ever caught anything from an apron other than love. 

THE SECRET OF ACHIEVMENT IN LIFE IS CHARACTER AND DETERMINATION

We all will encounter many things in life that we feel helpless to change. I am not here to candy coat the bitter realities of life but it is inevitable that we are going to face challenges that at times will test the limits of our endurance.

Financial uncertainties, sickness, marital conflict, the death of loved ones, are just a few of the realities of life that that are inclined to throw us into a state of hopeless defeat.

Some success “coaches” will tell you to think positively, you are the captain of your fate, you can “shift your physiology to a peak state” and thereby overcome all of life’s dilemmas.

All of which is easier said that done, and in all honesty quite absurd, when you stop to think about it.

Anyone who has a survival strategy that shallow should dial 911 and assume the crash position. You’re going over Niagara Falls in a barrel!

To my way of thinking, the biting truth is that sometimes you just have to tough it out. And pray a lot.

Character most assuredly counts more than competence.

Ever the researcher and out of curiosity in this subject, over time I have taken it upon myself to study some world leaders and celebrities who have reached the highest levels of achievement. Even a few very successful close acquaintances. Not all of these high-achieving people had wealthy parents, or overly phenomenal IQs or the best education, but they all have/had one thing in common…

As I reflect on these extraordinary individuals I see that there is one quality that they all shared: they are people of character who developed the tenacity to survive.

They learned how to hold on emotionally, physically and financially, when any reasonable person would have given up.

They did not succeed because they were destined to; they succeeded because they were determined to. They had a vision and went for it though Hell should bar the way!

Would that I possessed that same foresight when I was bright-eyed and busy tailed a lifetime ago.

Of course, to begin with, it is helpful to have a vision beyond the end of your nose.

WE ALL HAVE A VIAL OF CORD BLOOD IN RESERVE AND READY TO APPLY WHEN IT IS NEEDED MOST IN LIFE

Like me, a number of my friends have seen better days. And again, like me, some are struggling with demoralizing, debilitating health issues that go hand-in-hand with aging. This post is specifically intended for the comfort of all those dear souls.

I have an ongoing exchange with an interesting chap who has an extensive background in the study of numerology and metaphysics, subjects I tend to take with a grain of salt. But for the purposes of this post, quite beside the point.

Almost as if he sensed some of the things that I have been dealing with in recent months, he introduced me to a new way of thinking the other day and it all had to do with "cord blood you saved a very long time ago."

Interesting indeed. Worth further exploration to be sure.

Cord blood is the blood that’s saved from the umbilical cord in babies. It contains special DNA that can help fight disease later in life. "You went through a very rough patch at one stage in your life, but there was a golden lifeline that got you through. And that’s where your golden cord blood was harvested. You still have a vial of that magical life-saving blood and it’s the thing that’s going to save you from death right now," my suddenly very wise and prophetic friend suggested.

‍
"Death usually means that you need to lose something in order to gain something more, but this time that isn’t true. Why? Because you’ve already lost enough in your life and just this once you can use that vial of cord blood to save yourself from more loss. So there’s absolutely nothing to be afraid of. In fact, it’s going to feel like you’re being born again," he added with assurance.
‍
So what can you and I derive from this, dear reader? Well, it is as though you’re in the middle of winter in your life right now (which we are). Under heavy snow cover, not much vegetation is growing and everything feels like it’s standing still. But soon things are going to start growing again. In reality, it all depends on where you’re at in your life as we speak -- and what you need to feel so that you are getting more out of it.

It is pertinent to remember that very little in life remains the same for ever. That would be contrary to nature.

We do not actually have to put in effort for things to change. Everything is constantly changing anyway and we have potential to go with the flow through one of the biggest adjustments of our life. In my case it is in the form of a mental breakthrough. For some it might even manifest as a physical change in health, or a humane slowing down of the declining process.

‍
Luckily for us and hypothetically speaking, we have that symbolic vial of cord blood in our pocket to work its wonder, so circumstances  don’t have to be bad before they get better. Things may be just a little slow right now. But like the approach of spring starts off slow with the ice melting before the plants start to grow -- the changes you’re about to go through are going to come gradually. You don’t have to stress about that. Just let things unfold naturally. The less you stress the better. 

Remember, you’ve likely been through a similar experience before. And the more you get worked up about it this time the more difficult the transition or change is going to be.‍

All we really have to do is be aware that our world is changing. The universe has the rest covered. The less we react to the changes the more the change will take care of itself. 

Let's stop worrying about conditions we cannot control, or bemoaning the way things used to be, and just go about our life enjoying the little pleasant surprises along the way. They’ll present themselves like tiny Crocus flowers that are the first to poke through the still cold soil in spring. And by the end of the season we’ll have a life full of wonderful flowers to enjoy.

I'm looking forward to it. In fact I can smell the roses from here, thanks to the existence of a magical vial of cord blood I've been saving up within me for times just like this.

Won't you join me in a life-altering transfusion my friends and do this thing called living...together!

FOR WHEN "IT IS WELL...WITH YOUR SOUL"

To listen to a beautiful version of this wonderful hymn by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and Orchestra just click...

https://youtu.be/Eg5O2y1UXw4

I was exchanging text messages with a Facebook friend earlier today about a sad incident in her earlier life when the words "it is well..." came up.

I was immediately reminded of the significance of one of my favorite hymns "It Is Well With My Soul".

Life can be so unpredictable—joys and sorrows, beautiful blessings and distressing difficulties can come unexpectedly. Our life’s dreams and plans can change in an instant. We all know this to be true. So how can we find peace amid such turbulence?

It is an oft repeated story, but Horatio Spafford knew something about life’s unexpected challenges. He was a successful attorney and real estate investor who lost a fortune in the great Chicago fire of 1871. Around the same time, his beloved four-year-old son died of scarlet fever.

Thinking a vacation would do his family some good, he sent his wife and four daughters on a ship to England, planning to join them after he finished some pressing business at home. However, while crossing the Atlantic Ocean, the ship was involved in a terrible collision and sunk. 

More than 200 people lost their lives in that tragic incident, including all four of Horatio Spafford’s precious daughters. His wife, Anna, survived the tragedy. Upon arriving in England, she sent a telegram to her husband that began: “Saved alone. What shall I do?”

Horatio immediately set sail for England. At one point during his voyage, the captain of the ship, aware of the tragedy that had struck the Spafford family, summoned Horatio to tell him that they were now passing over the spot where the shipwreck had occurred.

As Horatio thought about his daughters, words of comfort and hope filled his heart and mind. He wrote them down, and they have since become a well-beloved hymn:

When peace like a river, attendeth my way,

When sorrows like sea billows roll—

Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to know

It is well, it is well with my soul.

Perhaps we cannot always say that everything is well in all aspects of our lives. There will always be storms to face, and sometimes there will be tragedies. But with faith in a loving God and with trust in His divine help, we can confidently say, “It is well, it is well with my soul.”