Another Commercial Break: In Which I Offer Some Existential Reflections and Introduce You To My New Favorite Person

The last few months--last year really--have been a somewhat tumultuous time of my life. People always talk about "finding themselves" and I always thought that was pure bologna (pronounced ba-lo-nee), a crisis catalyzed by a lot of unnecessary angst over growing up. Being an adult isn't that difficult, I always thought. Then I graduated high school. And now I'm out here trying to find myself.

The best views come after the
hardest climbs.

In truth, I'm not sure that's entirely the correct term. I was never lost (except when trying to use the public transportation system of course). My opinion is that when people say they're trying to find themselves, what they're actually seeking is a place to call home. In this world it's so easy to get distracted from what truly matters. Without a safe place to be your completely authentic self you will get lost.

Spending the last week at "home" in Lake Point got me thinking--about who I am, what home is, lots of melodramatic existential stuff like that. I was home in Lake Point yet I missed my home in Orem and I constantly anticipate the day when I can return to my Brighton home. And the conclusion I came to is that home is not a place. It's a feeling.

Home is gagging on Green Apple Jolly-Rancher flavored Pop-Tarts and canned smoked oysters with my family and Amanda.

My face looks like this all the time now
that I regularly get three hours of sleep.
But I don't climb mountains in the
middle of the night anymore.

Home is cutting up magazines while having a T-Swizzle dance party in the kitchen with my roommates.

Home is watching Poldark with my mom and my sister, shouting at Ross and Demelza in frustration when they make yet another abominably stupid poorly considered decision.

Home is reclining in the overstuffed chairs of the institute, reading my scriptures and watching Mormon messages.

Home is sitting in Brianna's living room, hanging ornaments on a revolving Christmas tree and listening to my adopted family tell me the stories behind them.

Home is the sound of the wrong notes I play as I relearn all my Christmas songs.

Look at my cute boyfriend!!!
That's so fun to say. :)

Home is sitting in Sunday School next to my friend Melanie while she excitedly shows me her new red coat.

Home is having a cuddle party with a million exhausted twelve year olds on top of a freezing mountain peak in the middle of the night waiting for the sun to come up.

This is a VERY MANLY
pink tree if anyone asks.

Home is reading "The Night Before Christmas" with Alex while perched on a bin in the food storage on a Sunday morning before the rest of the family is awake.

Home is watching Netflix on the floor of Landon and Preston's apartment 'til all hours of the night.

Home is running up hills with Jason or my old cross country team for the fun of it and pretending to stretch when we're done.

Home is wandering Temple Square hand in hand with Jason while we admire the lights and think about the Light of the World.

Home is quietly pondering inside the walls of the temple.

The temple is the most holy place on earth. It is the earthly
residence of Jesus and the angels.

Home is the feeling that heaven is much closer than I think it is, the feeling that if I just squinted a little I would see the angels and the hand of God directing every moment of every day.

Home is wherever my Savior is.

He walks the halls of the temple, of the institute, of the church, and He walks with me wherever I go so long as I strive to live my life to be worthy to return with Him to my Heavenly Parents, to the Kingdom of God. That is the true home that my soul aches for. The places I call home here on earth are mere mockeries of the celestial bliss that awaits me, but for now they're enough.

When I'm with the people I love, and when I have the love of Jesus Christ always with me, wherever I am, I am home, and that home is my little piece of heaven.

He is the Light, the Life, and the Hope of my world