publishing peace

About two weeks ago, I went rock climbing for the first time in a long time. I forgot how much I enjoyed it. It's a challenging sport, requiring a lot of strength I haven't built yet, but there's something else about it I find thought-provoking and a little bit fascinating. It's one of the only sports I can think of where you give your life entirely into the hands of another person. Of course, it's possible to climb without that risky element, but as far as beginners go, if you choose to climb without a belayer, you're either taking a much bigger risk or limiting yourself -- either by how high you can climb or by how many routes you're able to do. Having someone to catch you when you might not have the strength to continue is possibly part of why the rock climbing community is so supportive and helpful -- these are people who have to learn to trust, and have to be worthy of trust, each time they get on the wall. The stakes for rock climbers are pretty high,

When you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up? I wanted to be an astronaut. Flying amid the planets and stars, floating around on a space ship, that sounded like the life for me.  When I told my dad this, he told me that you have to be big and strong to be an astronaut -- and plus, you have to know math. The big and strong part was not nearly as daunting to me as the math was, funnily enough. I have since wondered how many dreams have been shattered by math -- but that's a tangent for another time. As the years have passed, my desire to sail in the stars has remained -- just pointed in a different direction. While I no longer want to go to space (at least not in a pressing way), I do have an itching urge to see the whole entire world and everything in it. (Sometimes I think it might be easier to learn math.) There is something spiritual that happens to me when I'm travelling, something big and beautiful that builds up inside me and teaches me things that I'

I feel like the title of this post is funny in multiple ways! This morning, as I was sitting in church thinking about what I can personally do to come closer to Christ, I thought about my tendency to want to know EVERYTHING about EVERYTHING. My friends and family know this. If someone is making plans to hang out with me, I wanna know when they're coming or when I'm going, what we're doing there, how long it will take, how much money it'll cost, where things are happening, how long it takes to drive there, what I need to bring, if anyone needs snacks, the truth about the Illuminati, where Sasquatch lives, and how many stars there are. Honestly, I might be a little more chill about it than I just made it sound like I am, but I do appreciate having a plan, even if we end up deviating from that plan. I especially enjoy knowing what the plan is to begin with. So you can probably imagine that the whole concept of faith, in its many facets, has been considerably more difficult

Have you ever had an ache? I'm being serious. Has there ever been a pain that persisted, maybe in your back or your hands or your head, that was relentless? Something that, no matter what you tried, was just kind of always there, in the back of your mind, so you could never really be comfortable? I have had such an ache in my physical body. It's distracting. It's sometimes debilitating -- sometimes it's impossible to do anything without thinking about the ache. I think everyone has experienced and will experience these physical aches. Something we talk about less, though, are the emotional aches. Sometimes these aches are the result of the actions of other people -- to have any kind of fulfilling relationship at all, we have to risk hurting and being hurt by people. It is also, like a physical ache, something that happens to everyone at some point or another; nobody I'm aware of hasn't experienced to some degree the loss of a love or a friendship or the loneline

Hi, sweet friend. I don't know why you decided to click on this link and read this today, but I'm really glad you're here. I hope what you read will sink in. I just want you to know that you're needed here. I'm glad you're not like everyone else and you have your own thoughts, feelings, opinions and beliefs. I'm glad you don't look like other people or dress like other people or listen to the same things other people listen to or feel your feelings in the same way other people feel them. That's good -- you have so much to offer me, and others. You, the way you are, right now, are important and needed. There's no one like you, and I am so jazzed about that. You are strong. The past few months have been tough on all of us, but look at you -- you made it here, to this point. And I don't care who you are, that took some serious mojo. And that's not all -- you didn't only come this far to stop here. You can keep going. You can do what you&

In 2009, Elder Jeffrey R. Holland gave a talk in which he addressed "those who are alone or feel alone or, worse yet, feel abandoned." I have often read this talk. It's encouraging to me that it's a common enough feeling for faithful people that an apostle felt the need to speak about it to a vast global audience. It reminds me of a Bible story that I only recently connected to this feeling. When Jesus had just been resurrected, he appeared to all his disciples -- all but one.  Thomas wasn't there when Jesus visited the disciples the first time. I can only imagine what he must have felt upon meeting his friends, only to hear that Jesus had miraculously shown Himself again. Mingled with impossible hope, surely there must have been some indignation, maybe even some anger, that Christ had chosen the time when he was absent to visit the disciples.  Part of me wonders if Thomas simply said that he didn't believe the Savior had come, not because he didn&