Faith is action

I have this recurring dream. It's the first day of school, and I don't know what my classes are, where they are, or when they start. I don't know if I have homework or reading to do or who my teachers are. All I know is that I can't go to any of my classes until I know where I'm supposed to be, so I spend most of the dream frantically racing against the clock as I try to track down my schedule.

If I'm in high school, I'm looking for it in the junk mail stack at home, because in the early 2000s you had to wait to get your schedule in the mail and then call your friends to see if any of your classes matched up. When that doesn't work, I have to execute my worst-case scenario plan: go to the front office and ask them to print out a copy for me.

If I'm in college, I'm trying to remember my BYU login and how to navigate millions of drop-down menus to find the precious page that will be my blueprint for the semester.

I haven't quite figured the lucid dreaming thing out, but I've had this dream often enough that I can sense the importance of preserving the information I seek so I won't be caught unprepared the next time. If I manage to get my hands on my schedule, I'll store it in a secret compartment in my backpack or the pocket of my jeans so that when the next first-day-of-school dream comes, I'll be ready. 

Except my plans never quite work out. Sure, the schedule I saved carries over to my next dream, but the writing is smudged or my jeans have gone through the wash so the paper is mush or the wind snatches that scrap of paper out of my hand. No matter what I do, the one thing I can count on is that I will be stuck, unable to move forward until I know where I'm going, while everyone around me is walking from class to class with purpose and confidence.

It wasn't hard to figure out why my brain keeps replaying this dream. I want to have a destination before I start moving. I don't want to waste time or risk failure or rejection by charging recklessly ahead. So in life, as in my dreams, I often find myself treading water, making no progress because I don't know which direction to go. I focus on the answers I seek, when what I probably should be doing is taking a leaf out of Fred Weasley's book: making up the plan as I go along (his favorite kind of plan, as he tells us in book 7). In other words, take a leap of faith.

In his October 2024 General Conference talk, Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf taught:  

"We should not expect to understand everything before we act. That is not faith. As Alma taught, 'Faith is not to have a perfect knowledge of things.' If we wait to act until all our questions are answered, we severely limit the good we can accomplish, and we limit the power of our faith."

Our society celebrates those who take action. Who visualize exactly what they want and then make it happen. I'm all about taking matters into your own hands and not waiting to be acted upon, but I'm finding that I'm often able to go further and accomplish more when I let myself be guided for a while. No vision board, no goals, no end game in mind—just the surety that none of my logical, thought-out plans have worked out and a hope that God will first untangle the knot I've gotten myself into and then send me the help I need to get going again. All I have to do is take the next step. In the dark. Possibly off a cliff.

It goes against my nature to relinquish control, but usually the first thing that happens when I surrender to God is that the awful feeling of stuckness goes away. I may still not know where I'm going, but I finally feel like I'm moving somewhere, toward something that matters, even though I don't have the steps mapped out for me. Somehow, the answers come as I go along, but only if I keep walking with faith.

I still get caught unprepared on the first day of school in my dreams from time to time, just like I freeze in real life when I don't know what my next step is. But walking into darkness is less panic inducing than it used to be. Yes, I still think things through and plan ahead as much as possible, but I'm learning that moving forward without answers doesn't have to be my last resort. It can in fact be the only way forward, and often leads to better outcomes.

The Lord lays out the promise of faith in action in Alma 32:43: 

"Then, my brethren, ye shall reap the rewards of your faith, and your diligence, and patience, and long-suffering, waiting for the tree to bring forth fruit unto you."

Faith isn't the easy part of the process, but in the end it's what makes it all work.

5 things I learned at BYU Education Week

I attended BYU Education Week for the first time last year and loved it so much I decided to attend every year for the rest of my life, provided I had the availability, ability, and vacation time to do so. People seem to think it's weird that I take a whole week off work to go to school, but it makes perfect sense to me. If I could pay the bills by being a professional student, I would do it. It would be a far more fulfilling career path than any I've stumbled into so far, that's for sure.

This shirt spoke to me.

My enthusiasm for Education Week stems partly from my love for BYU campus. It's one of my favorite places to be and always feels like home, even if it's been years since my last visit. On a deeper level, Education Week also (somewhat) quenches my insatiable desire to learn. This week feels like drinking from a fire hose of spirituality and intellectualism, and it's exhilarating, exhausting, and invigorating—and worth every one of those vacation days. 

I'm wearing the same backpack I used through all four years of college. It's carried a LOT of weight over the years and is still in one piece!

My journal entries of Education Week are always bursting with rambling insights, but I wanted to capture the main themes here in a more "official" format.

Truth can be found just about anywhere

One of the best lectures I attended was the "holy envy" series. Holy envy essentially means finding the good in other faiths and beliefs. This is one of the main reasons I love to read and learn so much—I love finding gospel truths in secular places. During this class we looked at the writings and teachings of non-LDS writers, leaders, saints, and more and compared them to Latter-day Saint scripture and teachings. We have more in common across cultural and political and religious divides than we think. Sure, we don't agree on everything, but truth is out there for anyone to find, no matter their background. 

The ultimate goal of covenants is to bring you closer to Christ

Covenants have been in the spotlight a lot recently, which carried over into Education Week. My understanding of and appreciation for temple covenants has deepened quite a bit this year, and some of the classes I took this week added more to what I've been learning. Temple covenants are more than a list of standards required to maintain a temple recommend. The main purpose of temple covenants is to draw us closer to Christ, and that is one of the most important relationships any of us can have. Keeping covenants requires sacrifice, just like any other relationship worth keeping, but those sacrifices set us up for continual joy and progression, which is what keeps us close to Christ, too.

When you're wandering in a wilderness, the worst thing you can do is give up

We see a lot of wandering communities in the scriptures. The Israelites wandered in the wilderness for 40 years. Lehi's family left a life of comfort to wander through many wildernesses. The early Saints moved from place to years for decades before settling in Utah. While I've never had to leave my home and way of life to live in a tent for months or years, I do know what it feels like to wander aimlessly through life, wondering what the point of it all is. When you're stuck and feel like you're getting nowhere, it's tempting to just throw your hands up in the air and stop trying. The scriptures show us again and again that God is able to lead his people to more fertile places—eventually. But if you're set on camping out in your troubles forever because you're tired of trying, he can't lead you to something better. The only way through a trial is through it, and nobody knows better than God how to get you through it.

Creativity can change your life

Creating things is part of our nature as human beings, but it's hard to be creative in a world that demands conformity and where bills must be paid. But taking the time to create—even if you're not the best at sewing or painting or writing or baking—not only has the power to make your life better, it can also change your perspective on things and bring more joy into your life. I've struggled to prioritize creative pursuits when the realities of life must be answered to first (the dearth of posts on this blog is just one of many examples), but I'm feeling some hope now that there are actually solutions to be found that will allow me to live a more meaningful and useful life AND pay the bills. Cool things happen when you let yourself think outside the box and try new things.

Christopher Columbus wasn't the villain we make him out to be

It's very "in" these days to villainize Christopher Columbus and the American founders. In the case of Christopher Columbus, he's taken all the blame for the atrocities that happened in the Americas, both during his lifetime and for hundreds of years afterward. But primary sources—writings by Columbus himself and by those who knew him—tell a different story. I'm not saying that atrocities like slavery and sex trafficking didn't happen, just that there's no real evidence that Columbus was the perpetrator of them; oftentimes he wasn't even present when they happened. Obviously Columbus wasn't perfect, and his actions did have unintended consequences. But it's unreasonable and unfair to judge those from the past based on what we know now. I hate to think what people will be saying about us in a few hundred years.

Bonus thing: BYU Creamery ice cream is delicious

I missed out on a lot of quintessential BYU things while I was a student: hiking the Y, going to games and concerts, partaking of various culinary delights, dating. I like to blame it on being a poor, working student who had no free time or money—and that was certainly a huge part of it—but my shyness held me back from living the full college experience, too. I've made up for it somewhat in the years since graduation, though. This week I went to the Creamery on 9th twice, an iconic spot I've only been to a few times in my life, and was kind of astonished how good the ice cream was. I usually prefer my desserts to be in cake or cookie form, but if BYU Creamery ice cream was an option I might pass up my old favorites and spring for the ice cream. (The BYU brownies—WITHOUT mint—will always win the day, though.) For a church that's known for its "health code," aka, the Word of Wisdom, we sure know how to put the unhealthy in the foods we love.

Plain and precious truths

 *I gave a talk at church today and a few people have asked for a copy of it. I decided to post it here, minus the lame intro and nervous jokes.*

I spend a lot of time with the written word, both when I’m being paid to do it and on my own time. I’ve been a big reader for as long as I can remember, and anyone who has been to my house can attest to the fact that I have a bit of a book buying problem too . . . but that’s a problem I’m okay with having.

I read primarily for one of three reasons. First, is to escape. Whether my life is boring, difficult, or just complicated, it’s always a relief to escape into another world or to deal with someone else’s problems instead of mine. Second, reading is one of my favorite stress relievers and a very necessary part of my wind-down routine at night so I can be relaxed enough to sleep. And third is, of course, to learn. I love collecting little nuggets of wisdom and seeing the world—real or imagined—through others’ eyes.

I get especially excited when those bookish life lessons I find are also gospel truths. But the scriptures and words of latter-day prophets are the best source of plain and precious truths, so this year I’ve been trying to focus more on the lessons they have to teach me.

God is a god of miracles

One truth that has been on my mind a lot the last few years is that our Father in Heaven is a god of miracles.

In the April 2022 General Conference, President Nelson said:

Moroni assured us that “God has not ceased to be a God of miracles.” Every book of scripture demonstrates how willing the Lord is to intervene in the lives of those who believe in Him. He parted the Red Sea for Moses, helped Nephi retrieve the brass plates, and restored His Church through the Prophet Joseph Smith. Each of these miracles took time and may not have been exactly what those individuals originally requested from the Lord.

In the same way, the Lord will bless you with miracles if you believe in Him, “doubting nothing.” Do the spiritual work to seek miracles. Prayerfully ask God to help you exercise that kind of faith. I promise that you can experience for yourself that Jesus Christ “giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might he increaseth strength.” Few things will accelerate your spiritual momentum more than realizing the Lord is helping you to move a mountain in your life.

It’s not hard for me to see miracles in other people’s lives, but I struggle to see them in my own. After Pres. Nelson gave this talk though, I decided to follow his counsel and seek and expect miracles from the Lord. I did this the only way I knew how—by praying for help. I prayed for the miracles I wanted, even though past experience had left me a little bitter on that point. I prayed for help seeing the miracles that were already there, too.

I’m not going to tell you that all my dreams suddenly started coming true. But I did start seeing tiny little miracles in my own life that I was blinded to before. I became a much happier, more grateful person. I grew in ways I wasn’t expecting, and in ways I wouldn’t have if I wasn’t focused on the Savior. And as I searched for, and found, these little miracles, my faith grew as well. One of the biggest blessings is the continual realization that I love the life I have, even though it wasn’t the one I planned for.

Not all miracles are obvious and life-changing, though. In fact, most of them aren’t. More often than not, it’s the quiet miracles that help us become who we are meant to become and get where we need to go. The better I understand this, the more I'm able to see that our Father in Heaven is eager to shower us with blessings and miracles. Pres. Nelson has also said that “God will do everything He can, short of violating your agency, to help you not miss out on the greatest blessings of all eternity.” A lot of times, all we need to do is simply pay better attention.

“Salvation is free”

When I was baptized at age 8, my grandma gave me my very first journal. I wrote about my baptism when I got home that day, and have kept a journal ever since. I am currently on journal number 34. (I did say I spend a lot of time with the written word.)

I’ve thought a lot about this gift over the years, and the gift giver as well. One of my grandma’s special talents was gift giving. For her, Christmas shopping wasn’t something she did only during the holidays. She spent all year shopping and making gifts for her grandkids. She was so on top of it that even though she passed away in February, many of my cousins got presents for Christmas that year that she had bought or worked on. She also gave gifts through service. Even though she had 9 kids of her own and not a lot of money, she opened her home to any kid in the neighborhood who needed a hot meal or love and safety, and was always quick to prepare a meal for a neighbor in need. And for the last 20 years of her life, she did this while battling cancer.

I say all this not to put my grandma on an impossible-to-reach pedestal, but to provide a little bit of context into why I still think about this gift, even decades later. My grandma had a lot of grandkids. A lot of people to take care of. A lot of her own problems. I don’t know where she found the energy to get to know her shy little granddaughter who sometimes spent more time in her garden eating all her cherry tomatoes than inside visiting with her. Somehow she saw past all of my louder, more entertaining relatives and the walls I put up around myself to understand that a journal would be the right gift to give me for my 8th birthday. 

Because of that gift, journaling became a huge part of my life. It’s how I work through my problems because, as I suspect my grandma realized, I’m not the kind of person to talk to people about my problems. Writing is how I make sense of the world and my place in it. It helps me remember my life and what I’ve learned. It’s alarming the number of times I’ve reread old entries where my past self was having a grand realization about life, while my current self was thinking, “I thought I learned that for the first time a few weeks ago.” Human beings, by nature, are forgetful. It’s why the word “remember” is repeated so many times in The Book of Mormon—if we don’t make a conscious effort to remember what we’ve learned, we could lose it completely.

The journal I got on my baptism day is a gift that keeps giving, both because it was profoundly personal and continues to bless my life today.

All of us have access to an even greater gift, one that is exactly what we need, more than we deserve, and always there to bless us. That gift, of course, is the atonement. Lehi teaches us in 2 Nephi 2:4 that “salvation is free.” He didn’t mean “free” in the modern sense of the word. We don’t have to qualify for it. There are no preexisting conditions or circumstances that disqualify us from it. And we won’t be bombarded with ads for the rest of our life because of it.

This gift is free because it was given out of love. All we have to do is accept it.

In this month’s issue of the Liahona, President Jeffrey R. Holland teaches us:

Jesus Christ has made it clear that all Heavenly Father’s children have equal claim on the blessings of His gospel and Atonement. He reminds us that all “are privileged the one like unto the other, and none are forbidden” (2 Nephi 26:28).

“He inviteth them all to come unto him and partake of his goodness; and he denieth none that come unto him, black and white, bond and free, male and female” (2 Nephi 26:33).

“He inviteth them all”—that means all of us! We should not place superficial labels and artificial distinctions on ourselves or others. We should never put up any barriers to the Savior’s love or entertain thoughts that we or others are beyond His reach. As I have said before, “It is not possible for [anyone] to sink lower than the infinite light of Christ’s Atonement shines.”

Instead, as Sister Holland and I taught just a few months before her passing, we are commanded to “have charity, which charity is love” (2 Nephi 26:30). This is the love the Savior shows us, for “He doeth not anything save it be for the benefit of the world; for he loveth the world, even that he layeth down his own life that he may draw all men unto him” (2 Nephi 26:24).

This, the atonement, is the most precious truth of the gospel. It is profoundly personal and will bless us through the eternities. Our Father in Heaven knew we would need it, and he prepared the way for us to have it through his son who was willing to sacrifice everything so that all could be made right for each one of us, no matter how trivial or beyond saving we feel.

The most plain and precious truths of the gospel are centered on love. I know that God loves each of us individually and is an expert at personalizing our miracles. I may not know exactly how the atonement works, but I do know it does work and that it is a gift that has already been given to everyone who has lived or will live on this earth, and that it will never expire.

The cost of convenience

It's a generally accepted fact that when presented with two options, humans will opt for the more convenient one most of the time. Entrepreneurs know this. Marketers exploit it. Teachers and students (not to mention parents and children) battle over it. 

It's why so many things get invented. We humans like the path of least resistance. 

As someone who hates wasting time/effort more than just about anything, I live on the path of least resistance. Anything that saves me a trip up the stairs, eliminates a meeting, combines two grocery store runs into one, or frees up time for leisure has high value in my life.

But I've noticed something the past few years. Our society expects convenience at a level it never has before. When we're constantly hustling from one thing to another, convenience becomes pretty important, but lately it feels like convenience is about more than just, well, convenience. It's about avoidance, too. Why endure a grueling commute to go to work when you can do the same work at home? Why make dinner when you can have someone bring it to your door? Why endure an awkward party or date when you can just message people from the comfort of your own home?

We've gotten used to modern conveniences making our lives easier. That's nothing new. It's what we've sacrificed for it—human connection—that has changed.

When the world started to open back up again after the pandemic, I recognized that I needed to put myself back out there—or else. It wasn't like it was when I was a teenager, when the worst thing that could happen to you was to be a social outcast. The stakes were much higher this time; it wasn't just my reputation that was on the line. After spending over a year at home alone, I was fighting for a smidgeon of a chance to live again, and that meant being out among the people.

It took some time. A lot of efforts went nowhere. There were—and still are—a lot of failures. But then, one day, I realized that I had more of a social life than I'd had since college. Even though having coworker friends was kind of off the table since I mostly worked remote, I had regular people in my life again outside family. I even valued random interactions with strangers more.

As much as I hate to give covid credit for anything good, my life is better today because of what I learned while spending a year at home. It forced me to prioritize relationships—of any kind—above comfort and convenience.

That being said, I still spend a good amount of time alone and I still opt for the convenient, less fulfilling option more times than I should. I'm also paying attention to what society as a whole is doing, and my observations have led me to believe that even though people have resumed normal life, most people spend less time socializing now than they did pre-covid. And it's not just because we're all busy working and raising families and catching up on all the TV shows. We've simply gotten used to our more efficient routines. Making plans and then following through with them feels like it requires more effort than it used to. 

Our American independence is partly to blame, too. A lot of us got used to relying on ourselves when we were cut off from the world during covid, and that, my virtual friends, is a very hard habit to break. After all, why do something with people when you can just do it yourself (and probably more efficiently, too)?

These shifts in how we've spent our time the last few years, and who we spent it with, weren't always super noticeable. That is, until you saw the uptick in headlines about the rise of anxiety, depression, and loneliness. Until you started seeing it in yourself and seemingly everyone around you.

There's always been plenty to be depressed and anxious about. This isn't a new reality for 2024. Strong relationships have always made these things easier—but prioritizing them is harder than it's ever been. 

But prioritize them we must. The comforts of convenience can only get you so far.

2023 books: A greedy indulgence

This year, I reached a new level of bookish nerdery. I've always had a disconnect between what I think I can read and what I'm actually able to read, but in 2023 I deluded myself into thinking that I could keep up with all the latest releases and catch up on some old titles. If you want something badly enough, you can make it happen, right?

As a result, my TBR (to be read) stack on my nightstand became an alarmingly high tower I fully expected to topple over one night while I was stress-dreaming about all the reading I hadn't gotten to yet. 

July 2023. This book tower looks pretty reasonable compared to what it looked like in early December.

I also enjoyed several library binges, where I stretched my holds max (50 books) almost to the limit and established myself as one of those special patrons who regularly enters the library with a giant bag over one shoulder.

I was too scared to make a tower out of my library books, so I divided them up by genre and lined them up against the wall instead.

I was greedy about books this year, but still emerged from 2023 with far more unread books than I wanted. Something that always baffled Deluded Angie when she returned stacks of unread books to the library and her TBR stack kept getting taller, not shorter.

I was disciplined enough to read a good chunk of the books I bought or checked out from the library, but would have needed to quit my job or acquire speed-reading superpowers to devour even half of what was taunting me just at my house.

One thing I wasn't delusional about, though, was how good the reading was this year. 2023 was an exceptionally great year for new releases, and I've gotten pretty good at choosing books that are a good match for me, too—a crucial skill for any voracious reader who can't afford to waste time on bad or disappointing books. 

Book stats

Goal: 80 books

Books read: 96. As much as it pains me to get so close to another 100-book year, I don't regret falling short. It means I had a life outside of the book world too, even if it doesn't look like it. 

Pages read: 36,744 (about 368 pages per book). Is it just me, or are books getting longer? Seems like the average book length used to be 200–300 pages.

Books abandoned: 13

Rereads: ZERO. Considering how hard I tried to read all the new releases this year, this shouldn't surprise me, but it really does. Rereading books has been a part of my reading identity my whole life—I've never once gone a whole year without rereading something. I have a hunch I'll be rereading a lot of books next year, so equilibrium will be restored.

This graph demonstrates why I always have trouble answering the "What kinds of books do you read?" question. I don't know how to get straight to the point without leaving out important genre preferences.

Ratings

I've gotten less stingy with my star ratings the last few years, and it's rare that I finish a book that earns less than 3 stars from me. The result is a happier reading life.

Fiction vs. nonfiction

I read nonfiction much slower than I do fiction, but both are constants in my reading life.

Male vs. female authors

I could almost use the same pie chart for fiction vs. nonfiction and male vs. female authors. Most of my nonfiction books were written by men, whereas most of my fiction books were written by women. 

Longest book: The Covenant of Water, by Abraham Verghese (724 pages).  

Shortest book: Long Chills and Case Dough, by Brandon Sanderson (67 pages). Hilarious, considering Sanderson often gets the "longest book" callout on these recaps.

Favorites

I almost didn't pick favorites this year because narrowing it down to just two books felt more impossible than usual. But after I finished compiling this post I realized that I hadn't talked about a few of my favorites yet, so I decided to feature them as my official favorites. But just know that they share this honor with at least 10 other books. 

Fiction: Hello Beautiful, by Ann Napolitano. This is a story about four sisters, which was all it took to pique my interest, coming from a family of four girls (and one boy) myself. While this book isn't exactly a retelling of Little Women, it is an homage of sorts, and the sisters reference the March sisters much like my sisters and I did. I found a lot to relate to in this book, and it checked all my literary boxes.

Nonfiction: Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life, by Barbara Kingsolver. I found this memoir about a family that only ate locally grown food for a year fascinating. Food, in general, is a topic that interests me to no end (this isn't the first time I've picked a food-centric book for my favorite nonfiction pick), but this one made me want to overhaul my life and center it on nutritious food. I wouldn't go so far as to grow all of my own food, but a career pivot to something in the nutrition realm did cross my mind.

Book pairings

One of my favorite things about reflecting on my reading year is seeing the random themes that emerge. This year a lot of the themes came in pairs, so I decided to highlight some of them in book pairings.

Pandemic novels

I didn't seek out pandemic books this year, but two of my favorite books ended up being set during 2020. Tom Lake, by Ann Patchett, is about a family with three adult daughters who move back home to wait out the pandemic and help out at their parents' cherry orchard. It was such a lovely, comforting book, and it made me wish I could have spent the spring of 2020 picking cherries with my mom and sisters while our mom told us stories about her life.

Happiness Falls, by Angie Kim, is also a family story set during early covid, but it is anything but cozy. Instead of reminiscing together, this family is focused on figuring out why their dad disappeared, an event that had only one witness: his son who can't speak. I don't usually go for true crime / murder mystery type books, but this one had me hooked. It had so many layers to it and I learned so much about so many things as I raced through it. 

Creepy guys stalking actors

I read a lot of books about actors this year, which definitely wasn't planned because I don't enjoy spending time with narcissists. Two of those actresses unfortunately had stalkers, as seen in The Eden Test by Adam Sternbergh and With My Little Eye by Joshilyn Jackson. I actually enjoyed The Eden Test, but With My Little Eye really creeped me out. Parts of it hit a little too close to home, I guess. I don't think I'll be picking up another book with a stalker any time soon.

Aquatic POV characters

I kid you not—this popped up more than once this year. First was in Remarkably Bright Creatures by Shelby Van Pelt, which is about an octopus who helps solve crimes. Well, one crime. Which is more of a family mystery than a crime. The premise sounds gimmicky, but it actually works in what feels like a realistic way. Really enjoyed this book.

The other book, Shark Heart by Emily Habeck, had an even weirder premise. In this world, people can get a strange disease kind of like Alzheimer's, but instead of slowly losing your memories and sense of self, you gradually transform into an animal. Lewis, a newlywed and drama teacher (again with the actors!), turns into a shark. It's a beautifully written love story, but was kind of an uncomfortable read. Seeing people turn into another species was a little bit too weird for me, even though, again, it was written in a way that felt very true to life.

Dinosaurs coming back TO life

I finally got around to reading Jurassic Park, and it was excellent. A zombified dinosaur makes an appearance in Jim Butcher's Dead Beat too, which was also very entertaining. Why are dinosaurs so much fun?

Opioids

One of my first nonfiction reads was Patrick Radden Keefe's Empire of Pain, which is about the Sackler family and the opioid crisis. A few months later I read Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver, thinking I was getting a reimagining of Charles Dickens' David Copperfield (which it technically is), and instead getting another devastating account of how OxyContin destroys lives. Both were troubling reads, but well worth the time. I still think about them both often.

Maine

When I have a trip coming up, I like to read a book about or set in that place shortly before I leave. This is partly the Hermione in me wanting to do my homework, but it also amps up my excitement for the trip. I love getting to know a place in the pages of a book and then geeking out over it shortly thereafter in real life.

So with a family trip to Maine in September, I knew I would be reading at least one book set there. But apparently Maine is a popular place to visit in the literary world too, because it kept showing up in the books I was reading. (No complaints here—Maine is pretty great.) Happy Place by Emily Henry was my favorite of the batch. I love Emily Henry, and this was my favorite novel of hers. Flying Solo by Linda Holmes mentioned Bar Harbor (where we stayed) a few times, which made me very excited, but was otherwise kind of a lame book.

Epic races

This one is a bit of a stretch, but I wanted to make sure I talked about both of these books. They're both about racing to a finish line, in a way, so I'll make it work. 

First is The Emerald Mile, by Kevin Fedarko, which chronicles the fastest trip down the Colorado River via boat, and wow it was a ride. The 1983 record was broken after this book came out, but it's still a thrilling read. Kind of surprised no one has turned it into a movie yet.

The epic race in The Wishing Game by Meg Shaffer is much more my style, though. Instead of risking life and limb to shatter a record racing through the Grand Canyon, the characters in this book are on a quest (in Maine!) to win the last book written by a famous author. It's basically Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, but with books. This was one of the biggest surprises of my reading year and is a great one if you need a little more hope in your life.

Year of Sanderson

I can't finish out this year without touching on the Year of Sanderson publishing experiment. I have no problem giving Brandon Sanderson more of my money, so I signed up for the subscription box on Kickstarer pretty much the moment I heard about it. The subscription included one box a month full of Sanderson goodies, including four secret novels Sanderson wrote during covid (plus a bonus short story from his college years). 

I was mainly there for the books, obviously, but it was the fun swag items that impressed me the most. Lots of high-quality stuff (my Sanderson collection now rivals my Harry Potter collection) and so many creative ideas. Every time I opened a box I imagined how much fun it would be to be on Sanderson's marketing team. Maybe some day.

As for the books, I felt like they weren't up to Sanderson's usual standard, but I really enjoyed two of them and all of them are beautiful to look at. Yumi and the Nightmare Painter was my favorite of the batch, in part because of this quote, which perfectly encapsulates why I don't enjoy endless sunny days, especially during the summer:

"There was a certain enervating effulgence of sunlight, sapping away strength, making him lethargic. Perhaps, Painter thought, that was what the sun subsisted on: burning as fuel the willpower of those who lived beneath it."

August 2023. The bookends I got in the Mistborn box prompted a full-on library reorganization, with Brandon's books taking the coveted spot at the top. The rest of my Sanderson paraphernalia is displayed on the little bookcase on the far left. 

All the books I read in 2023 

Bolded titles = books I rated 4.5 or 5 stars
DNF = did not finish

1. A Fire Endless, Rebecca Ross
2. The House of Spirits, Isabel Allende
3. Five Winters, Kitty Johnson
4. Keeper of Enchanted Rooms, Charlie N. Holmberg
5. 3rd, 4th Nephi: A Brief Theological Introduction, Daniel Beccera
6. We Are the Light, Matthew Quick
7. The Untold Story, Genevieve Cogman
8. Where the Drowned Girls Go, Seanan McGuire
9. The Guns of August, Barbara W. Tuchman
10. Lunar Love, Lauren Kung Jessen
11. Someone Else's Shoes, Jojo Moyes
12. River Sing Me Home, Eleanor Shearer
13. The Perishing, Natashia Deon (DNF)
14. Blood Rites, Jim Butcher
15. American Gods, Neil Gaiman (DNF)
16. Georgie, All Along, Kate Clayborn
17. The Priesthood Power of Women: In the Temple, Church, and Family, Barbara Morgan Gardner
18. The Invisible Woman, Erika Robuck
19. Empire of Pain: The Secret History of the Sackler Dynasty
20. A Court of Thorns and Roses, Sarah J. Maas
21. A Court of Mist and Fury, Sarah J. Maas
22. The Soulmate, Sally Hepworth
23. Tress of the Emerald Sea, Brandon Sanderson
24. The Nineties, Chuck Klosterman
25. Us Against You, Fredrik Backman
26. The Wilderwomen, Ruth Emmie Lang
27. A Court of Wings and Ruin, Sarah J. Maas
28. These Precious Days, Ann Patchett
29. Lessons in Chemistry, Bonnie Garmus
30. Mormon: A Brief Theological Introduction, Adam S. Miller
31. The Paris Apartment, Lucy Foley (DNF)
32. The Big Picture: The Fight for the Future of Movies, Ben Fritz
33. Sign Here, Claudia Lux
34. Demon Copperhead, Barbara Kingsolver
35. Love and Other Words, Christina Lauren
36. The Frugal Wizard's Handbook for Surviving Medieval England, Brandon Sanderson
37. Happily: A Personal History—with Fairy Tales
38. Travel as a Political Act, Rick Steves
39. The Once and Future King, T.H. White (DNF)
40. Jurassic Park, Michael Crichton
41. The Eden Test, Adam Sternbergh
42. Hooked: How Crafting Saved My Life, Sutton Foster (DNF)
43. The Bookshop on the Shore, Jenny Colgan (DNF)
44. Happy Place, Emily Henry
45. The Last Thing He Told Me, Laura Dave
46. Heartburn, Nora Ephron
47. The Emerald Mile: The Epic Story of the Fastest Ride Through the Heart of the Grand Canyon, Kevin Fedarko
48. Watch Us Shine, Marisa de los Santos
49. To Shape a Dragon's Breath, Moniquill Blackgoose (DNF)
50. Pandora, Susan Stokes-Chapman
51. Divine Rivals, Rebecca Ross
52. Wolf Hall, Hilary Mantel
53. The Making of Another Major Motion Picture, Tom Hanks (DNF)
54. Ether: A Brief Theological Introduction: Rosalynde Frandsen Welch
55. The Covenant of Water, Abraham Verghese
56. King: A Life, Jonathan Eig
57. Recipe for Persuasion, Sonali Dev
58. I Feel Bad About My Neck, and Other Thoughts on Being a Woman, Nora Ephron
59. Yumi and the Nightmare Painter, Brandon Sanderson
60. The Pioneers: The Heroic Story of Settlers Who Brought the American Ideal West, David McCullough (DNF)
61. With My Little Eye, Joshilyn Jackson
62. Lost in the Moment and Found, Seanan McGuire
63. Remarkably Bright Creatures, Shelby Van Pelt
64. Ink Blood Sister Scribe, Emma Torzs
65. Yellowface, R.F. Kuang
66. Same Time Next Summer, Annabel Monaghan (DNF)
67. Destiny of the Republic: A Tale of Madness, Medicine, and the Murder of a President, Candice Millard
68. The Wishing Game, Meg Shaffer
69. The Gifts, Liz Hyder
70. No Two Persons, Erica Bauermeister
71. Homecoming, Kate Morton
72. The Collected Regrets of Clover, Mikki Brammer
73. The Secret Book of Flora Lea, Patti Callahan Henry
74. Life in Five Senses: How Exploring the Senses Got Me Out of My Head and Into the World, Gretchen Rubin
75. Shark Heart, Emily Habeck
76. Tom Lake, Ann Patchett
77. The Northern Reach, W.S. Winslow (DNF)
78. Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life, Barbara Kingsolver
79. Apples Never Fall: Liane Moriarty
80. Flying Solo, Linda Holmes
81. The American Spirit: Who We Are and What We Stand For, David McCullough
82. Jayber Crow, Wendell Berry
83. Moroni: A Brief Theological Introduction, David F. Holland
84. Dead Beat, Jim Butcher
85. Scarlet, Genevieve Cogman
86. Starling House, Alix E. Harrow
87. A Mirror Mended, Alix E. Harrow
88. Dead Voices, Katherine Arden
89. The Unfortunate Side Effects of Heartbreak and Magic, Breanne Randall
90. Spells for Forgetting, Adrienne Young
91. The Sunlit Man, Brandon Sanderson
92. To the Lighthouse, Virginia Woolf (DNF)
93. The Lost Queen, Signe Pike
94. The Forgotten Kingdom, Signe Pike
95. 1493: Uncovering the New World Columbus Created, Charles C. Mann
96. Adult Assembly Required, Abbi Waxman
97. Hello Beautiful, Ann Napolitano
98. The Mysteries, Bill Watterson
99. Love, Holly, Emily Stone
100. Original Grace: An Experiment in Restoration Thinking, Adam S. Miller
101. The Last Russian Doll, Kristen Loesch
102. The Christmas Bookshop, Jenny Colgan
103. Long Chills and Case Dough, Brandon Sanderson
104. Happiness Falls, Angie Kim
105. A Winter in New York
106. Mr. Dickens and His Carol, Samantha Silva
107. Cytonic, Brandon Sanderson
108. Burning Questions, Margaret Atwood
109. Elon Musk, Walter Isaacson (DNF)

Previous book recaps

2020
2019
2018
2017
2016
2015
2014
2013
2012

A case for two types of vacations

I recently returned from a vacation to Maine with most of my family. Getting 11 people, ages 4 to 60 with varying levels of adventurousness and budget constraints, to agree on the same itinerary is nigh unto impossible, so we didn't attempt it.

Instead, everyone kind of did what they wanted to do, switching groups (or breaking off alone) as necessary. Two main vacation strategies emerged from this shuffle, resulting in two very different trips that took place at the same time, same place.

Vacation type 1: Rest and relaxation

We've all fantasized about perfect getaways when life wears us out. And I think for a lot of us, that getaway involves a whole lot of peace and quiet. Preferably somewhere pretty with reasonable temperatures.

For me, that "someplace pretty" looks a lot like this: tucked away from the world and surrounded by trees.

For those of us with R&R at the top of our vacation wishlists, Maine delivered. 

Imagine waking up to this view just outside your bedroom window every day. It's a lot better than looking at the back of your neighbor's house, that's for sure.

All I need for some good R&R is a cozy reading spot. This house had several. (A word to the wise: if you ever decide to Airbnb your house, a library is always a good idea.)

For those wondering, I read four books on this trip. Started and finished two and read about half of two others, totaling to about 1,100 pages. Complete and total book nerd wish fulfillment right there.

The hammock was also a popular reading spot, but it was hard to get a turn on it unless your name was Shannan.

Of course, relaxation doesn't have to take place indoors. One of the great things about Maine is that you don't have to choose between a mountain or beach for your relaxation. You get the best of both worlds in the same spot.

Your R&R will come to a painful end if you try to get in the freezing water though. But if the sound of the rushing waves is your jam, you can get that here.

I never really got used to being able to see the ocean from the mountains. It was a difficult concept for my desert brain to compute.

My number one priority in Maine, however, was to eat well. Because even the well rested needs to refuel. The food lived up to the hype and forever ruined me for normal food. Everything I've eaten since then has been disappointing.

It's okay to slow down for vacation and just rest. Sometimes that's what we need most from our hard-earned vacation days: a chance to heal.

Vacation type 2: Adventuring

If taking it easy sounds like a waste of your time off, might I offer another suggestion: adventures from sun-up till sun-down. After all, if you're going to visit a new place, you might as well explore every inch that you can and do stuff you wouldn't be able to do at home.

While I'm more the type to find great joy from staying home, I'm up for the occasional adventure. So I joined the Searles (aka, the adventure crew) for one of their hikes. Which basically amounted to rock climbing. Something I, a scaredy cat about heights, have never enjoyed.

I told myself that if my 8-year-old nephew could do it, then I could. Even though, let's be honest, my nephews are way braver than I am. But that mantra helped me hold on to some of my dignity while I was clinging to the hand rails.

I'm still a little mystified that I not only got through the hike, I enjoyed. Like, it was a highlight of the trip for me. Maybe it was because it wasn't a very tall mountain. Maybe it was because I always had something to hang on to. Maybe I was just too focused on climbing over boulders to ever look down and think about falling. 

The only regret from this trip is that we were there a few weeks too early for New England's famous fall leaves. But we saw more colors from this elevation than we did anywhere else.

Of course, any time we got to a spot that allowed us to spread out and take a break, I stayed as far away from the edge as possible. You don't have to stand at the edge of a cliff to enjoy a view, after all.

The Searles might disagree with that statement, but I stand by what I said. Where it's safe. Away from the edge.

I went on a couple hikes during girls camp that made me hate hiking, but after 20 years or so I've forgiven my young women leaders for their unintended lies about "easy" hikes and have been more open to the idea lately. After this hike, I was ready to go home and make it my new hobby.

Adventuring is about more than facing your fears, though. Sometimes all you need to do is explore. The Searles' exploration escapades led them to Thunder Hole, which is a hole in a rock that empties and fills up with water for all of eternity and makes a crash like thunder whenever a big wave comes in. It's mesmerizing to watch.

Hard to photograph properly, though.

This little spot had lots more boulders for my rock-climbing nephews to master, but by then my adventuring mood was waning with the sun, so I sat back to enjoy the view, ready to go back to my R&R sanctuary.

An attempt to compromise

There was one activity the relaxers, adventurers, and hermits all wanted to do: whale watching. But alas, it wasn't meant to be. Our first tour was canceled because the ocean was still too tumultuous from Hurricane Lee, and our second was canceled because the boat broke down. (While we were on it, might I add. But they turned around and took us back to the harbor before things could get interesting.)

Waiting for the boat to take off was thrilling.

The verdict

You've probably already picked a side regarding which type of vacation is best. But, as someone who did it both ways on this trip, I'm here to tell you that they're both great. And if you're looking for a place that appeals to lots of different personalities, I would give Bar Harbor, Maine 5 stars.

A temple for Saratoga Springs

Eight years ago, I watched from a distance as my secondary hometown, Payson, Utah, got a new temple. I attended the ground-breaking, open house, and dedication, so I suppose I was a more active participant than "watching from a distance" lets on, but I knew this wouldn't be a temple I visited regularly. When you live in Utah, an hour is more than most of us are willing to drive to get to a Latter-day Saint temple.

A few years later, another temple was announced for Utah County: Saratoga Springs. I lived in Midvale at the time and was happy to hear that new temples were getting a little closer to Salt Lake County (my temple, Jordan River, was always insanely busy), but didn't know at the time that this would one day be my hometown temple.

Construction started making real progress in 2020, after I'd lived in Eagle Mountain for two years and had made the field that separated the temple from my neighborhood one of my walking routes. 

I've been dreading the extra traffic on Redwood this temple will bring, but it's easy to see why they picked this spot for the temple. The view of the lake and mountains is spectacular.

While we were stuck in COVID limbo, construction on the Saratoga Springs Temple was one of the only things in my life that was progressing at all. Once those walls started to go up, I took a temple selfie every time I was out in that field to mark its progress. Having grown up in a semi-remote town that required a car to get anywhere, living within walking distance of something so majestic made me feel, well, cool. That's when it really started to feel like my temple. 

October 2020. Yes, I was ridiculously late to the wireless headphones party.

After some supply-chain delays, the open house finally started earlier this year, and lasted for 12 weeks, the longest open house in the history of the church. This gave me plenty of opportunities to volunteer. I provided background music in the chapel next door three or four times and served once as a counting usher. Of course I was happy to help with the music, but I was also excited to put one of my other natural gifts to good use as a counting usher: sitting silently in the corner. 

About halfway through the open house, my giant singles ward was split into three. I ended up in one of the new wards, helmed by none other than the guy who was in charge of the ushering committee at the open house, a role that was basically a full-time job and involved working with thousands of volunteers—not to mention visitors—every day. He and his wife got the call right there in the temple.

My entire bishopric, in fact—and their wives—was heavily involved with the open house ushering committee. Amidst the chaos of building a brand new ward from scratch, the bishopric arranged to give our ward a private tour of the temple, which would include walking through rooms that weren't part of the regular tour.

Despite the early start time—7:30 a.m. on a Saturday, before the regular tours started at 9—many of us jumped at the chance. I was especially looking forward to seeing the bride's room and the children's waiting area. (Mom, you would have LOVED the adorable, exquisite table and chairs in the children's waiting room.)

But I soon realized that the bishopric had more in mind than a special VIP tour. This truly was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Many wards do ward temple days, but most have never had the opportunity to book the entire temple for just their ward. To not only look around, but to be instructed and inspired by their leaders, like the early saints had done during Joseph Smith's time. 

We did. 

Seeing the stained glass windows and beautiful artwork (so much artwork!) and intricate architectural details is a sacred experience on its own. But it was the times we gathered together in the larger rooms that I'll remember most years from now. As we sat in a couple of the chapels, a sealing room, and an endowment room, each member of the bishopric and their wives took some time to bear their testimonies and share some of the miracles they had witnessed during the open house. Our brand-new Elder's Quorum and Relief Society presidents shared some thoughts as well. And when we were in the Celestial Room, we sat in silence for about 10 minutes, pondering and soaking in the sweet spirit that surrounded all of us.

It was one of the most spiritual experiences of my life. One of those times where you don't just feel the Holy Ghost on the inside—you feel it outside of you too, in the very air around you. It was a feeling so all-encompassing it took days to wear off completely—I had an unusually good week after that, which are hard to come by in the summer.

If you need help finding me, I'm the one who's having the most trouble keeping my eyes open with the sun blasting us in the face. 

Latter-day Saint temples are more than beautiful edifices. They're not meant to be a status symbol, or a reminder of the church's wealth. They are literal houses of God, where we can feel peace and do work that has eternal significance. Even seeing the Saratoga Springs Temple when I'm driving around or out on my walks gives me hope. Temples dotting the earth are a blessing for everyone, and I'm excited to continue to be a part of the newest one in Saratoga Springs.

Temple lights + supermoon = pure awesomeness