Young Mormons

Because I’ve seen the Louvre alone, I know that we are all made for each other.

Staleness appears to me to be a sort of blindness: an inability to see what’s right in from of you. No matter how it looks, at no point has life ever actually been just shades of tired gray, especially when there are still people to love.

This fable is always brought in to illustrate the power in being consistent and moving forward continually no matter how insignificant your progress may feel, and I don’t disagree with that lesson, but I would like to defend the hare.

What is it about solitude that fills you with unfulfilled yearning? Better yet, what is it about the presence of people that combats that yearning so wholly and effectively?

It is only in odd moments when you happen upon one of those older versions of yourself, that you realize how far you’ve come.

The other day, in a room full of people I have no reason to be self-conscious around, I sat on a chair that I thought was securely stacked upon the chair underneath it and I plummeted 18 inches with a crash.

You’d like to think that you only judge people by their mind or spirit, but you can’t go discounting looks completely when you’re wearing your family history on the front of your head.

In a world where young adults are drifting from religion, what’s the secret holding the Latter-day Saint youth?

I was only a couple of weeks into sixth grade when the twin towers were hit, and nobody at school would tell us what happened.