o babylon, o babylon, we bid thee farewell

If you listen to this song right now, this post will be a lot cooler because music speaks a whole lot better than I do.

I love all kinds of human beings. People are great. But there are certain kinds of human beings that I can't help but make my favorite. Like children, and Mormon missionaries.

Mormon. Missionaries.

I've been blessed enough to spend lots of time with lots of missionaries in recent months. In July, the Baytown 1st and 2nd wards combined to form the large and mighty Baytown ward, of which I'm proud to be a member. The ward started out with a small army of sixteen missionaries; today, we have twelve, and since July, the ward has had at least one baptism every single Sunday without fail. Not only are we bursting at the seams in members, but also in love, and light, and energy. I can feel it when I walk into Sacrament meeting.

My family has been blessed enough to often feed these young warriors. To have them in my home almost every weekend has been such an inspiration and a blessing as I prepare to serve a mission of my own. I'm happy to call the missionaries dear friends of mine; Sister Kaelin, Bolton and To'o have adopted me as their fourth companion, and Elder Mitchell and Gilbert make us laugh until we cry every time we're all around the table together. Serving alongside them is the sweetest part of my life.

Today was the HIGHLIGHT of my Christmas season. Every year, the Stake Relief Society feeds the entire Texas Houston East Mission at their Christmas Conference. The mission has doubled in the past year, and today we were privileged to feed around 200 missionaries. To be in the same room as so many pure hearts is overwhelming and beautiful and indescribable. I cry every year when they sing We'll Bring The World His Truth to us.

His work is being hastened in Houston, Texas. This is it. His truth is marching on. I testify of it with my whole heart.

The gospel of Jesus Christ is such a liberating thing. The missionaries are happy not only because they live it, but because they share it. As I've learned to share it, too, I've felt overwhelming happiness and satisfaction with who I am and what the Lord needs me to do. This is the first time in my life that I've seen this much spiritual progression in myself, and I can honestly say I have never been happier.

On Sunday, we had all the missionaries over for dinner and to watch the LDS Christmas Conference. We sat spread out around my living room in front of a glowing fireplace, being strengthened by the words of Prophets about our Savior. The spirit was there. I felt immense love for everyone in the room, and I felt their love radiating back at me. The gospel cleanses us and connects us as family. After the broadcast, everyone was smiling. The Elders told each other they loved each other, which is so rare to hear men say to each other, but so important. All nineteen of us hung out in my living room, where Dad gave the Elders his "Marriage 101" course. By the way, quote of the day:

"All women want is a man who knows who he is, where he's going, and how he's going to get there."
"Hey! That's like the plan of salvation!"

Missionaries are the cutest.

Joy. Joy is the only word I can use to describe it all.

We are free people. We have bid farewell to Babylon and all its iniquity as we have chosen to build Zion. And the miracles and blessings that have come with it are real. God is real. His kingdom is real. His love is real, and it is radiant, and it is for me and you.

I'm honored to be part of the work.

Harrah for Israel.

I love these people with my entire heart.

cliche truth: happy girls are the prettiest

Our society has this dangerous obsession with perfection.

And this might be the most cliche, unoriginal blog post I've ever written.

However, it's true. Not only are we obsessed with becoming perfect, we are obsessed with becoming unobtainable beings. The issue is especially predominant in women and our physical bodies. Whether it be about getting a "thigh gap" (like really, why are those a thing?), or scoring a pre-pregnancy body after birthing four kids.

A couple weeks ago I was scrolling through the ever-addicting procrastination pit of doom (also known as "Pinterest") and saw a picture of a mega-ripped woman. Washboard abs, defined triceps, all that jazz. On the picture were the typed words: "#reasonstoworkout To look like her."

Let's stop pretending that you can achieve the "perfect body"  by exercising and being healthy. Because you can't. Know why? Because there is no such thing as "perfect". We have not defined it, and we cannot define it. Because there is seriously no such thing as two of a kind. By chasing perfection, we are literally chasing something unobtainable, and it will only bring us grief.

Guess what? You can't look like "her". Because you are not "her". You are you. And your body will never look like someone else's. Sorry if that disappoints you. It shouldn't.

I could go to kickboxing class 5 days a week, become a marathon runner and eat only lettuce for the rest of my life and never look like the ideal pictures we see all over the internet. My hips are too wide. My shoulders are too big. I don't have a cute nose.

But I'd be my best self. And, in that way, I'd achieve my own personal "perfect". And I'd love myself more than ever. And that's why we should be embracing healthy lifestyles. Not to look a certain way, but to love ourselves. To take care of our precious bodies that house our precious souls.

I recently read in my journal about when I returned from my Philmont backpacking trek (so much talk of Philmont. Sorry guys). I came off the trail, hugged my mom and went straight to the Base Camp showers. I walked in the bathroom, dumped my stuff on the floor, and took a deep breath as I walked over to the mirror, preparing for the worst. I hadn't seen my reflection in 6 days.

My face was wrecked. The skin was chapped, scraped, peeling, and covered in a filmy layer of dirt. My hair looked like hay. I had gained weight on the trail (???). When I smiled, my skin wrinkled up because of my sunburn. On top of that, my eyes were red and wet and puffy because I may or may not have cried when I saw my mom. I'm such a softie.

But still, I smiled, because I liked what I saw. I genuinely loved who I was, and I just sat there looking at myself for a few minutes, because, well, I liked who was looking back.

You can imagine how I felt after I showered.

But there I was, with every reason to throw up in the sink over my reflection. But I didn't.

Beautiful isn't something you feel. It isn't something you are when you try to be. It isn't having a certain face, or good hair days, or even something you look like.

It's what you are.

And believe me. There are days when I look in there mirror and convince myself I'll die alone. It's something so many of us fight. But we must know that our validation cannot come from others; if we live off of man's compliments, we'll die for his criticism. And, compliments don't mean anything to us if we don't believe them ourselves.

Our validation must come from within. It is when we love ourselves that we can begin to truly love others.

So, here's to the days we'll look in the mirror and say, "Hi, me. Love you, me." May there be many more of them.

"Girls don't go to Philmont"

GUESS WHO'S GOING BACK TO PHILMONT?!?!

It's been a thing for awhile but I'm about to fill out my Rayado Trek application and it feels really real right now and WATCH OUT MALE SPECIES, JULIA'S HEADED BACK TO YOUR BOY SCOUT ESTABLISHMENT.

22 days. 220 miles. 50 pound pack. Bright stars. Cute boy scouts. Acoustic instruments. Challenges. Happiness. Ponderosa pine trees.. Dirtbag beards. And, undoubtedly, the lack of deodorant.

Bless that place.

Flipping sweet video you should watch.

airplanes

this time tomorrow I could be on the other side of the planet. isn't that wonderful?

isn't it absolutely glorious that human beings said, "let's make metal fly", or, "let's make steel float", and bam, we did it?

and isn't it so phenomenal that we can use these things to connect with each other? with friends? with strangers?

I have a friend somewhere in this vast world. his name is Ravi, and I don't know why, but he popped into my mind today to say hello. I was on a full plane home from LA, sitting in my always-desired window seat, and he had the middle. we sat next to each other most of the flight without saying a word; I looked out the window and read my book while he watched a movie on his phone.

about 30 minutes before we landed, he turned his phone off, tapped me on the shoulder and asked--in his very thick Indian accent--for my name. "Julia," I said, "and what's yours?"

"Ravi. it is an Indian name, and it means 'the sun'. my parents named me that so I'll always remember to be a light to people. what does your name mean?"

"Julia has two meanings: youthful, and leader."

"that's beautiful."

"yeah. your name is, too."

I don't think I'll ever forget that conversation, or Ravi. and I'm inexpressibly grateful that he tapped me on the shoulder; had he not, I wouldn't ever write about that flight.

so thank you, kind stranger, for turning off your phone. thank you for telling me all about your childhood in India, and how rich the culture is there, and about your journey to America to gain an education. thank you for encouraging me to go to your home country and see how different and beautiful is. I will go someday. thank you for welcoming me home when we landed. most of all, thank you for shining. you, like the sun, are a moving phenomenon.

wisdom teeth...wisdom?

I think we should all take time to live like we just got our wisdom teeth ripped out.

to eat our food slowly and carefully, and taste every nourishing bite.

to cure boredom by sitting with our moms on our beds and talking to them for awhile.

to wholeheartedly accept acts of altruism, and kind notes, and arbitrary ice cream deliveries from friends; to understand it's okay to need a little love.

to say no to the rush of the world for a moment. to not go anywhere. to get enough sleep. to rest.

to truly feel pain and understand that  it's good for us.

to laugh at ourselves in the mirror when we don't look our best (bad hair days, acne, SWOLLEN FACES, etc.)

to smile. I can still do that.

~~~

for your enjoyment:

I still gaze heavenward

I am a professional stargazer. I am home on a soft bed of grass, under a moonlit sky. I lay down, look up, and gaze into the heavens. My spirit likes it there, and if I lay long enough, it might leave my imperfect body and go for a moment to dance through the constellations to the beat of my steady heart. It is then that my soul is at rest.

This city is alive. It is vibrant and ever-improving, ever-changing, ever-illuminated by the light created by man. We are busy. We work by day. We work by night. The street lamps, the car lights, the buildings and their yellow-glowing windows. The sirens flash by, accompanied by the noise of trouble, the noise of wickedness, the noise of urgency. The oil refineries glow blue, electric, efficient and blinding. Inside are housed unhealthy men working the night shift, cursing the darkness for taking them from their homes and wives and precious children. Head west and you will end up wandering downtown streets that are loud and never without movement. It is there you will find, even among the light, the darkness of humankind. The man who walks by the homeless beggar without notice, the cold silence on the metro train, and the people who hardly notice that they are alive, let alone the very sky they all live under. The very thing above our heads that connects us all.

It is in this city that I still look heavenward, hoping each night that maybe an old, shining friend will appear among the blankness that is this city's night sky. But they are always gone--the stars are never there. And it was only just tonight that I realized why they must leave me.

Those friends, the stars, are glorious beyond description. They are moving phenomenons from worlds away. They are far too beautiful, far too superior, far too celestial for the eyes of the city. Their perfection cannot coexist with the wickedness of this world.

Instead, we must go to them. You and I, the dreamers of these sickly, unrestful metropolises. We have seen the infinite, our spirits have danced in the sky, and we are too fond of the stars to be fearful of the night. We must go, for we know that once we have found our place among those stars, our souls will always long to go back. We will leave the cities and go very far, over mountains and through countrysides and down long desert roads. Those are the places our stars reside; places untouched by the imperfect hand of man. That is where those celestial lights deserve to be, and that is where our hearts belong.

For the Young Men

It's General Conference weekend. Can I get a HOLLA.

In this morning's session, Elder D. Todd Christofferson spoke specifically to the women of the church, young and old. He encouraged us, testifying that we are here for a divine purpose, and that our roles as wives, mothers, sisters, and nurturers are of noble beauty and respect. That we have a "beautiful serenity" about us when we do the Lord's work.

I loved his talk. I felt respected, loved, and protected, knowing that my role (future and present) as a young woman is recognized as ESSENTIAL and BEAUTIFUL. That feeling and the gratitude that came with it was only intensified when I got on twitter after the talk and saw all the young men on my feed ditto-ing everything Christofferson said, supporting and uplifting righteous young women all over the world. 

I thought to myself, I love this. I love feeling supported in my efforts to be the virtuous lady that I strive to be. And I owe the same support to the priesthood holders in my life. They are just as deserving of it (if not moreso) as I am.

I want to be a girl who uplifts. Who has a wide open heart. Who befriends the friendless. Who sees every blessing of the priesthood in her life and puts her whole heart into thanking those faithful men who bring so much joy to her life. 

Having brothers and a devoted father, I've seen the pressures our young men our under. I want to be a soft place to land. I want the young men to know that they can get off their white horse and show their weakness. I KNOW how important that authenticity is. I have also seen, first-hand, the power righteous young men hold, and it is something I am so grateful for and humbled by. 

I'm trying to be a devoted supporter of the men in my life. That's why I go to every Boy Scout Court of Honor, and dance with the shy ones at dances, and smile at the deacons when they pass me the sacrament. I want to be able to see the potential in every boy's life, and the beauty in the responsibilities the men around me hold. Hold me to that. Let me know when I'm being a jerk.

For the young men in my life, I want to be a friend. Someone who, maybe someday, will be looked back on as someone who was a defender and supporter of Helaman's army. In these fundamental learning years, it is one of my goals to encourage the youth around me, just as I need to be encouraged. I believe it is a beautiful thing to see the young men and women of the church help each other reap the blessings that are in store for them. I have been blessed enough to know some amazing youth who have inspired me to be the best I can be, and it is my prayer that I will always know people as good as the ones I know now.

So, to the young men in my life: thank you. Thank you for who you are. Thank you for the priesthood that you hold. Thank you for your willingness to "RISE UP, and be men of God." (yes, I totally creeped on the priesthood session of conference this evening). The same power of God that created the earth and the stars is restored on the earth today through you faithful and valiant doers of good. That power protects me, comforts me, and heals me, and for you men I could not be more grateful. 

Let us help each other to live up to our divine potential. Let us love, uplift, and laugh as together we chase after the blessings of the Temple. What a beautiful thing it will be when we all make it there.