It was just over 60 years ago when Dinah Washington won a Grammy for her soulful rendition of “What a Difference a Day Makes.” One part of the song in particular provides powerful perspective for the history of nations — as well the lives of families and faithful followers of Jesus:
“What a difference a day makes
“24 little hours
“Brought the sun and the flowers
“Where there used to be rain.”
I have found it to be true that just 1,440 minutes can make all the difference in driving change, influencing others and even determining our divine destiny.
Only a day? One day of 365 seems insignificant. One day of 3,650 days in a decade is barely a blip on the screen of history. Yet, such days, like Christmas Day, can alter everything.
On June 6, 1944, more than 156,000 American, British and Canadian forces executed one of the largest amphibious military assaults in history. Some 4,000 soldiers lost their lives on the beaches of Normandy with thousands more wounded that day. But those brave soldiers made that one day the beginning of the end of the war in Europe. It was just a day — but it was a day crucial to the cause of freedom.
Like D-Day, some days are defined by those who are willing to bravely take a stand. On a Dec. 1 day in 1955, Rosa Parks made her stand by sitting down and refusing to yield her seat on an Alabama bus.
Rosa Parks was just one person, on one bus, on one ordinary day in Montgomery, but her action provided a pivotal spark that fanned the flame of the Civil Rights Movement.
A day made a difference on July 20, 1969, when man stepped onto the moon’s surface, and on Nov. 19, 1863, in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, and on many, many other singular days in the course of human history. Temple sealing days, baptism days, blessing days and days of tender mercies, days containing answers to prayers and days of mighty miracles are difference-making days in our lives.
Likewise, it is no small thing that when the young Joseph Smith prayed in a grove we call sacred, on a simple and seemingly insignificant spring day in 1820, that his record of that heavenly vision states, “I saw two Personages, whose brightness and glory defy all description, standing above me in the air. One of them spake unto me, calling me by name and said, pointing to the other — This is My Beloved Son. Hear Him!”
What a difference that day made.
That day changed the world forever. In that vision, the young prophet not only learned the true nature of Heavenly Father and the divinity of His Son, Jesus Christ. Joseph learned that Heavenly Father knew him by name and that God desired to have Joseph hear Jesus. Joseph learned who he was and whose he was.
There was a day, one we read about in the Book of Mormon, when the wicked planned to slay the righteous believers, if the sign Samuel the Lamanite foretold concerning Christ’s coming failed to appear. During that foreboding night, Nephi the son of Nephi prayed mightily for his people. The voice of the Lord came to him saying, “Lift up your head and be of good cheer; for behold, the time is at hand, and on this night shall the sign be given, and on the morrow come I into the world, to show unto the world that I will fulfil all that which I have caused to be spoken by the mouth of my holy prophets” (3 Nephi 1:13-14).
What a difference a day made.
Our Prophet, President Russell M. Nelson, invited us to see the difference a day can make when he encouraged the world, “Ask your Heavenly Father, in the name of Jesus Christ, how He feels about you … . I promise you that when you begin to catch even a glimpse of how your Heavenly Father sees you and what He is counting on you to do for Him, your life will never be the same!” I will add, the world will never be the same. What a difference such a day could make.
Growing up in a family of 11 children, the Christmas season was always a time of chaos and commotion, busy schedules and endless streams of activities. Yet, there was always a day and a night set aside to go caroling as a family with an emphasis on visiting the widows and the weary and wonderful couples who were advancing in years. My seven sisters were the stars of the show. In fact, my older brother and I were rarely asked to join in the singing. We often went a little begrudgingly — or a lot begrudgingly — wishing we were at a basketball game instead. But we did have the important assignment to carry the gift of my mom’s famous peanut brittle to the front doors. And, yes, from the back seat of our big Ford van, I often did quality control taste-testing along the way.
Our last stop was always to Doris Dippo, a widow my dad had known for many years. Her house looked dark when we pulled into the driveway, causing us to question if she was home or had gone to bed. The wait on the front porch seemed endless in the December cold. Finally, we would hear her shuffling steps and the slow turning of the locks, followed by the gradual opening of the door. We were quickly ushered in. She would have my dad turn on the lights on her tree, and the girls would begin to sing. It seemed to me that Doris Dippo always had one more song request for my sisters. I learned early that the final song would be the same. Every single year, “Star Bright” was her last wish.
Every year, that day made a difference for me. It was on that day, in that humble space that I learned about the infinite worth and wondrous influence of a widow. I gained appreciation for the divinity and heavenly ministering power of my sisters. I was transformed by the tear-producing, testimony-inducing, soul-stirring witness of a spiritually instructive song about the Savior of the world. The words my sisters sang still echo in my heart:
“The heavens with light o’er flowing, a story of love will tell
“And angels will sing of glory; when Jesus comes on earth to dwell.
“Oh star bright, the world is pining for you to turn night into the day.
“Oh star bright, in heaven shining come glow within me on Christmas Day.”
I would stare at the lights on the tree as my sisters sang. I could see a weary Mary and Joseph in a bustling Bethlehem with no room for them in the inn. I envisioned the humble stable, dark and dirty, occupied by an anxious Mary and worried Joseph. Few places on Earth could be more lowly. But, oh, what a difference a day made as angels sang of glory and Jesus came on Earth to dwell. I could see the difference a day makes.
As the music ceased, Sister Dippo would dry her eyes, as would we, and we would exit back into the night. The ride home was always more quiet and reflective than the chaotic drive there. We went to make a difference — we were ministered to by a difference-maker, disguised as a widow, instead. What a difference a day makes.
Patience is not one of my superpowers. I am terrible at it, actually. Waiting for that difference-making day can be excruciating and exhausting. Waiting for a day, a week or through a very slow season of life is often the test for determined disciples. Whether we are waiting for relief or for new opportunities to emerge, for clarity in our path or for answers to confusing questions, for healing in a relationship or for hope of good things to come, we should recognize that our Heavenly Father and Savior Jesus Christ are working in our waiting — preparing us for the dawning of the day that will make all the difference in our lives.
The man at Bethesda’s pool, the leper, the woman at the well, Daniel, Moses, Sarah, Samuel the Lamanite, Sariah, Mary Fielding, Joseph and countless other Saints through the ages have waited. And then the day came. I look forward to the opportunity to ask them what a difference a day makes — the day when Jesus is what comes in between the dark night and the new day.
Like all of you, I have had such moments in my life where the Savior has taught me what a difference a day makes.
Following the Savior’s Crucifixion, the world literally went dark. For the disciples and followers of Jesus, His death and the darkness that followed must have been heart-breaking, soul-crushing and mind-bogglingly confusing. In the darkness of that Saturday the frightened disciples were surely in the depths of despair. Then, in the empty tomb we truly discover the ultimate in what-a-difference-a-day-makes moments. The Savior’s birth, life and atoning sacrifice combined with His glorious Resurrection on that first Easter morning made all the difference — for all of us.
Christmas morning always comes. Christ’s morning will come. The day dawn will break no matter how dark the night, and Christ will bring the morning with welcome rays of peace and rest. You will be able to declare with saints and angels, “What a difference a day makes.”
