Prior to our trip to Escalante a few weeks ago I had never been to the desert. I had seen lots of pictures and movies and had heard people talk about the desert many times so I felt like I knew what to expect. I realized as we walked to our first slot canyon that there was a lot more to it than what I had envisioned.
The first thing I noticed was that there weren’t any well-marked trails or landmarks that could help you orient yourself, just red rocks and sand with a few randomly placed trees for miles in every direction. As we made our way through the slot canyons, I began to appreciate the beauty of the desert. There was something unique and intriguing in those canyons that I had never encountered before.
That feeling should be similar to the way I view the Lord. He is like the desert in that He is also mysterious and amazing and scary at the same time. He is more powerful than I could ever imagine and I don’t think I recognize that enough. His power makes me feel smaller and weaker than the desert ever could, but I do believe this experience gave me a chance to better recognize that feeling.
I have no control of my life and the outcome of each day. That scares me and it is something that I try so hard to avoid. As hard as I may try there is no avoiding the sovereignty of our God much like I could not avoid the sun’s intense rays in the desert. Thankfully that is not the only piece of God’s character that He shares with us. He also is more beautiful than we could begin to comprehend. His beauty never fades and if I truly understand that then it will be impossible not to be in awe of Him. I am thankful for the time I got to spend in Escalante and that God continues to reveal Himself to me in ways that I never expect.
God bless and GO VOLS.
the risky situation and navigate with God towards the potential greater outcome. This leads into why I am a Salt Lake Fellow walking in courage.
Throughout the past several years I have been dealt with circumstances that have molded me into a home body. I have been given the best family, and I want us to walk around in a danger, grief, and disease-free bubble. As I mentioned above, we cannot control whether or not we are completely freed from those heartbreaking outcomes. Not only have I been instilled with innate fear, but I have lived it out in a heartbreaking outcome. Every day presents a new battle, decision, etc. I’ve found it hard for my mind not to go to the worst case scenario. I think it’s a defense mechanism… in case it does happen then I have already mentally prepared myself for that letdown.
I have also found that navigating fear and uncertainty in that way is exhausting and essentially saying that I do not trust my Lord to give me the best plans imaginable. If, in those best plans, there’s still heartbreak, my distrust says I do not believe he will hold and comfort me like He has already done before. Therefore, when I encounter the small/mundane grip-holds of distrust, I need to reframe and trust that stepping into courage from the Lord will direct my best plans, regardless if letdowns and heartbreak are intertwined.
Fighting the enemy in the mundane reminds us that He is with us and for us in the small, so of course he is standing with His arms open for us in the big and inevitable trials. How freeing! With this freedom, I chose to apply across the country, away from my family and friends into 10 months of a looming question mark. Yet, I felt at peace. I know God gives this restless heart peace for a reason, and that is to remind me it is from HIM. I do not find peace on my own, I do not find comfort on my own-- I find it in the One who already fought for me so I do not have to tire at the countless unsuccessful attempts.
Lord, You have replaced unnecessary fear and instilled peace and trust which transforms this experience into one of growth. I’ve gained friends who love and champion me well while we navigate this new chapter together. I learned that trusting You allows me to trust myself, knowing that I do not have to carry all the unknowns-- I can enjoy life in peace and delight in Your comfort and sovereignty. Thank you for giving me the courage to step out into the unknown.
Where was Jesus staying?
I find it interesting that John records the time of day which the disciples were with Jesus but does
not mention or give detail to the dwelling place of Jesus, especially since that was their initial
inquiry. Jesus did not hesitate to invite them to this place and once they saw it, the disciples spent
the day there with Him. My first thought is that this home must have had a welcoming aura,
overflowing with grace and love. I envision it as a place of solitude and retreat. Simple. Quiet.
But then my mind is met with the challenge, what about the uncomfortable? What about the
unwelcoming? I think it is so easy to assume that where Jesus was staying was comfortable
because it is easy to find Jesus in these places, but does He not also dwell in the uncomfortable?
Perhaps, this place Jesus invited His disciples was not a place of solitude and warmth, but
because they were in the presence of Jesus, they decided to dwell there with Him for the day.
I come from a ‘one stoplight town’ that is welcoming and considered a place of retreat for many
individuals. It is tucked away in the quiet, humble mountains of North Carolina. Life is gentle
and slow there. It is silent and peaceful, with space to breathe. There is no doubt that Christ is
present in that sweet little town. But in my heart I heard His invitation to come and see where
else He dwells. So I packed bags and moved across the country to a bustling city. Far away from
what is comfortable, where hurry, worry, and noise are woven into the atmosphere, Jesus has
made His presence known.
In the friendships that have formed, in the conversations with co-workers, in the laughter that
fills our home, in the smiles of my students, in the Saturday morning breakfasts, in the constant
hum of rubber meeting asphalt, in the moaning whistle of the train, Jesus has breathed life into
all of it and therefore, He is a part of it and present within it. He continues to meet me in the most
mundane of moments to the most difficult and uncomfortable of moments. He is here, staying
here, in Salt Lake City and has invited me to experience it with Him.
How beautiful it is that all we have to do is accept His invitation to see where He is staying. He
will meet us there and sit with us in that place, whether it be for a day, a month, or a year. Let us
strive to dwell with Him in the uncomfortable, in the unwelcoming, in the chaos, and in the
Jesus, where are you staying?
Come and you will see.
Identity. It is something that you think you understand about yourself, until you get put into a whole lot of newness, and then you realize that you don’t. Coming out to Salt Lake City was a decision that I was sure about. I had always known that I wanted to take a gap year while applying to, and before attending, medical school. I was excited for the change in the pace of life, for the mountains and new adventures, and for the challenges and blessings that come along with a new community. But, I wasn’t prepared for the way the Lord was going to refine me, and so soon.
For as long as I can remember, school, and my achievements in school, have been a priority and gave me a sense of identity, importance, and purpose. I wore this identity like a mask, relying on the attributes and perceptions about me that it formed. As I have entered into this new community of people, I realized how many other masks I have put on in the past in order to try to feel approval or acceptance.
I was sitting at the top of a mountain this past weekend, looking over Lake Blanche, after a long and strenuous hike, when I realized how exhausted I was. I was not only physically exhausted, but I was emotionally exhausted as well. I was tired of trying so hard. I was tired of being so worried about what others thought of me and wasting my time trying to decipher if others think I am “enough”. It took the process of moving to a new place, being in a new stage of life, and being in a new community to realize that the old masks I used to hide behind weren’t relevant anymore, and that these people don’t see me for the identity that I have worn so proudly, for so long. Who am I if I am not seen as the [blank] person? We could all fill in that blank with attributes that we rely on such as “smart”, “funny”, “athletic”, “tough”, “dedicated”, etc.
Right there, in that moment, overlooking that beautiful lake and feeling utterly exhausted, I gave up and fully surrendered to the Creator. I gave up on trying to find my identity in anything other than the One who made me. I gave up on trying to be someone I thought others wanted me to be. I gave up on trying to so desperately fill in that blank with anything but “fully loved by the Creator”. The Lord just told me to stop and to let His acceptance of me be enough.
My ultimate goal is to show the love of Jesus through a future career as a physician. I want to treat my future patients with a compassion, empathy, and whole-person care that exuberates a life that is lived for a meaning that is more than just about myself. The Lord has been faithful throughout the process it takes to apply to medical school and I am expectant that He is and always will be faithful. I am not aspiring to go to medical school to be accepted by, or to impress, others. I am pursuing this career, and have worked so hard for it, because I am passionate about it and feel that it is the Lord’s calling on my life.
On top of that mountain, I gave up. I didn’t give up on my passion or goal, but I gave up on every identity that I have tried to find fulfillment in, or purpose from, other than Jesus Christ. I was tired and exhausted. I was ready to allow the Lord, and His acceptance of me, to define and shape my identity. This is not to say that I have finally “found the gold” and “have it all figured out”. Not at all. Slowly but surely the Lord is teaching me what His unearned grace and love with no conditions truly means. I am learning what it looks like to fully place my identity in THAT truth.
I am not only learning how to let Jesus love me well, but how to let this amazing new community love me well too. In order to allow someone to love you well, you have to admit fault, imperfection, and weakness, and then you have to bring that into the light. That process takes a lot of trust, and it can be hard. Two of the Fellows shared their life stories this past Monday, and I was so grateful. I was grateful for their vulnerability, honesty, and humility in sharing, and I am grateful for the deep level of intentionality that they set for this community going forward. I am learning that real community can be messy and challenging, but in order for it to be “real”, YOU have to be 100% “real” and bring that 1%, that you kept in the darkness for so long, to the light. We all have masks that we hide behind because we are so terrified of what people will think if “they knew the real me.” But, the crazy thing is, when you get to know someone’s “real me”, you see their humanness, imperfections, weaknesses, and amidst those, you see Jesus shining through the cracks.
One of my favorite things about Utah are the mountains. I have such a deep appreciation and fascination for the mountains because they make me feel small. They remind me of how big and how in control my Creator is, and how small, insignificant, and not in control I am. They remind me that my problems or worries are not the be-all-end-all and it blows me away that I am so dearly loved and cherished by the One who created those massive, beautiful, and majestic mountains. For the past month here in Salt Lake City, I have been trying to live in a state of adventurous expectancy, seeking after the Lord and the identity He gives me, and soaking up this amazing community where I have been placed.
Wherever you are, or whatever stage of life you are in when reading this, I would encourage you to take off the mask, let others see your 1%, and let the Creator’s utter love and obsession with you define you and your identity. Live in adventurous expectancy, with a humble boldness that can only be attributed to the One who made you!
Salt Lake City has been home for a little over a month now, and yes, it already feels strangely like home. As someone who often reflects on life, enjoys moments of nostalgia, and does not handle change well, the transition to Salt Lake is something I think about daily. After a tough first week alone in the city before the other Fellows arrived, I have since settled into a weekly routine with work, found encouragement through the other Fellows and church community, signed up for a rec kickball league (yes, you read that correctly), and planned something to do outside nearly every weekend. These combined aspects of everyday life have certainly made the transition easier, but have not necessarily solidified Salt Lake as “home.” In fact, what I have described is busyness—the everyday distractions, commitments, and (many times good) necessities of life we often confide in to keep us from confronting the discomfort we may be feeling, or struggles we are facing. Therefore, what I have learned thus far in my short time here is that busyness makes transitions easier, but cannot provide a reliable foundation for new beginnings. What has made Salt Lake home is that the Lord has met me here and made His presence overwhelmingly known in the mountains, valleys, and canyons of Utah.
Our first Fellows retreat was a backpacking trip in the Uinta mountains. It was an incredible experience filled with struggle, laughter, meaningful conversations, discovery, and the first bonds of a budding community. Being outside was refreshing, and the time with new friends was life-giving. As a part of the retreat, we spent several hours in solitude—time alone in the woods with God. I am a book-lover, so, naturally, I brought along a book I have been itching to crack open entitled The Way of the Heart: Connecting with God Through Prayer, Wisdom, and Silence by Henri Nouwen.
Before the retreat, my mind was spinning. I was very unsettled and unsure if I could make it out here for 10 months. Coming off an incredible college experience and a summer full of joy, suddenly picking up and moving nearly 2,000 miles away from my family and friends was less than ideal for this reflective, comfort-seeking individual. All I could think about was the familiarity and fond memories I was leaving behind as I stepped into the unknown and the discomfort. In my mind, God was there, 2,000 miles away, and I was on my own out here. In fact, I was already starting to use work and the busyness of life in Salt Lake as a distraction from this feeling of loneliness. But as I sat on a rock in the high Uinta wilderness surrounded by wildflowers and trees, next to a bubbling stream, facing a peak majestically standing 13,000 feet tall, my mind was forced to settle. I quickly realized God was here. As I opened my book and read a few pages, I was challenged by two quotes in the first chapter appropriately titled “Solitude”:
“Solitude is the place of the great struggle and the great encounter—the struggle against the compulsions of the false self, and the encounter with the loving God who offers himself as the substance of the new self.”
“Solitude is thus the place of purification and transformation, the place of great struggle and the great encounter. Solitude is not simply a means to an end. Solitude is its own end. It is the place where Christ remodels us in his own image and frees us from the victimizing compulsions of the world. Solitude is the place of our salvation.”
I looked up at the daunting peak and smiled. Here I was, alone in the middle of the woods without my phone, with no one around me, but I was certainly not alone. I was experiencing what Nouwen calls “the great encounter.” My mind was being purified and transformed. Solitude dissolved the distractions riddled with falsehoods and filled me with the love of God. Here, in the middle of the woods, I was home. I was home because Christ was with me. In that moment, solitude was certainly the place of my salvation. It saved me from the “compulsions of the false self” and lies of the unsettled mind. Greater than that, though, solitude forced me to understand only He is sufficient. Only Christ can provide the way to salvation in the grand scheme of eternal life and during the little moments of each day. In this little moment, I caught a glimpse of the grand scheme. I caught a glimpse of home. This is the glimpse solitude revealed and the glimpse I needed.
I have heard many times that home is where the people are—those who mean most to you in life. There is certainly a lot of truth to that statement, as I definitely feel most comfortable around those who love me most and know me best. But is home where we are most comfortable? If that is the case, Salt Lake City has no business feeling like home at this point. Even more, home is where the Lord is—the sovereign Creator, loving Father, and abundant Provider. Because home is where the Lord is, we can go anywhere and be found, feel known. We can go anywhere and He is with us. We can go anywhere and have deep purpose. Therefore, I have transitioned to home here in Salt Lake because God has overwhelmingly met me here. Looking back, I can say the same about my college experience and summer in between. The busyness of life is no longer a big distraction—it is rather a mission with purpose. That being said, I would have never taken the time to meet the Lord if it were not for solitude and rest. I am already thankful and very much looking forward to this year of solitude, rest, and discovery. There will still be highs and lows, good days and bad days, struggles and joys. Nevertheless, I am thankful for a God who gives us an identity, infinite value, overwhelming worth, and meets us wherever we are. As someone who would live in a single moment forever if change wasn’t inevitable, I am grateful Home is with me always.
"If God gives such attention to the appearance of wildflowers—most of which are
I have a sleeping pad. I scrounge around for the sleeping pad bag. The sleeping pad does have a
bag, or at least it did. Peppermint, bergamot, lavender essential oils are all packed, but I should pack a flashlight before getting too carried away…
I love the outdoors. I love to travel. This year I have conquered many new feats among mountains, valleys, deserts, hoodoos, and slot canyons. However, amidst the small task of packing, I become frustrated. Even after acquiring a plethora of books regarding minimalism, essentialism, and the capsule wardrobe; here I am.
As I scroll through an Instagram feed of people doing epic things, I eye the inspiring words of Bob Goff, “Love big, pack light.” If Bob was helping me pack right now, I would justify that I attempted to “pack light” when I invested in airtight-seal-bags on Amazon.
Exasperated, I plop onto my bed. Cushioned by heaps of towels, my bed plop is soft. I sink deeper and deeper and ponder, “What would packing look like if it was easier? Maybe, I have made packing for a fun trip hard. Maybe, it wasn’t meant to be this way.”
Throughout this season in Salt Lake City, I have repeatedly seen God interject with His presence, kindness, and humor when I least expect it and most need it. I have seen God’s beauty and majesty on breathtaking summit-hikes, ski-treks, cliff-repels, and trail runs. I have also felt God’s gentleness and assurance within presumably simple tasks, like packing.
Preparing for trips with Salt Lake Fellow’s has not just been about packing, and perhaps this is true of most things in life. Packing shines a flashlight on my heart’s grasp for control. Packing surfaces wounds of failure that my sustainable, eco-friendly, Band-Aids cannot mask. Packing brings me to my knees in prayer, on my cluttered bedroom floor, to the God who intimately knows my heart.
I am awestruck by the truth that there is not a part of my life that God is not present. He calls me His beloved as I let the struggle of packing speak into my identity. God is with me as I navigate, stumble, and get back up time and time again with my messy room; messy heart. The God of the Universe delights in caring for me.
"O LORD, You have searched me and known me. You know when I sit down and
How have you been? I have heard so much about you recently, yet wonder what is on your mind. Your friends tell me that they miss you. In some cases, are grateful for you and even pray for you. Even your new friends tell me about their gratitude for you. Your parents miss you, but are incredibly proud of you. Some strangers even wonder why you are the way you are. They question if there is something different about you: either pointing to me or just your oddball personality. I would love to hear from you personally. All I want is to know where you are at, because, my beloved, I know you are struggling in ways you are struggling to comprehend.
I have heard about the maturity you have been growing into. It has been a process of the past few years; one that you struggle to acknowledge. But you have to understand, I am making all things new in you. Do not fret or try to conceal this, because I am making you new. In fact, I love your imperfections and cannot wait to help you understand them. Please hear this as I am proud of the way you have matured and you should be willing to acknowledge your growth.
Do you still pray for the youth? I miss our late night prayers, even though they were short. I miss you going to the high school whenever you passed by at night and praying for the students. While you may be 2,000 miles away from them and no longer passing their school, did you forget I know every single one of them by name? Miss our late night conversations and hoping we can get back to the roots. To be honest, I really just want to hear more from you. After all you are beloved by me.
Where have you been? I write to you, but I hear that you barely even open the letters. You call out my name every now and then. But I desire for an intimate relationship. Please understand that I am here for you whenever and as much as you need. Our relationship is not meant to be light or rare, but heavy and constant. All of this is out of love. I am here whenever you need me.
Call me whenever you are willing to uncover the unorganized habits persisting in your life, being late constantly, always trying to make it work, working really hard at giving to others, and anything else. We can both be honest that there is a lot more to a messy room or being late always. Or even your feeling about being able to make everything work. Or trying to pour so much into others. In all it sounds exhausting, please understand that there is more to it than surface level. Unpacking this and understanding how I can help will lighten the load. I do not mean to discourage (maybe keep your room clean), but rather help you understand lots of people have stubbornly tried to make everything work on their own. Sometimes I have given it to them, but other times I have not. In the end, these people have been exhausted from their efforts. Come to me, all who are weary, and I will give you rest. Let’s talk through this as I love what you are doing, but I am worried you will be left exhausted. Anyhow give me a call when you are ready to talk.
I could write a blog post about everything that I have learned over these past ten months as a fellow, but in all honesty that would take too long and I don’t really want to do that. I could also write a thank you to all of the Fellows and any one else who has impacted me over these past ten months, but I don’t want to do that either.
What I am going to say though is that it was worth it. All the struggle, anxiety and loneliness that I encountered this year. All of the belly laughs, movie nights, and shared meals. It was all worth it. Every high, and every low. Even those moments where I was forced to sit patiently in the grey of the unknown for what seemed like years. It was worth it.
The struggle was extremely real this year, but I am glad I got to struggle with these ten people by my side. I am glad that I got to struggle in a place that has completely captured my heart. It made everything easier. It was worth the pain and heartbreak. Those dark and stormy days that seemed to never end, it made it worth it knowing that there was always a shining face of a Fellow close by. Someone that I could talk to about my storm cloud. Knowing that there was someone out there that would accept me in all of my mess. It was worth it.
Knowing that every Friday night, there was something going on. Whether is was attempting to build a fort, eating tacos for the hundredth time or just watching a movie. It was worth it. Experiencing more charcuterie boards then I ever have in my entire life, it was worth it. Being forced to be social with required activities on the weekends, even when my introvertedness was trying to win. It was worth it.
Those days where so many things seemed uncertain. If I was walking towards the right career path. If I was making the right decision applying to graduate school. The unknown of if the next step I was trying to take was the right one in so many different situations. Being completely uncomfortable not knowing or having control over the future. It was worth it.
I’m at a loss for words. I have written and rewritten this blog post so many times. Trying to find the right way to describe what my experience as a Fellow has been. Every time, I have simply come back to: it was worth it. And it truly was. Being apart of the Salt Lake Fellows, well, it was worth it.
Over the past 10 months since moving to Salt Lake City, I’ve put countless miles on my car and my hiking boots. I’ve been welcomed into an Island-of-Misfit-Toys church that feels like family. I’ve fallen in love with the city hugged by the Wasatch Range with all of its beautiful contradictions -- urban against untouched wilderness, both zealous and anti-religious, home to folks who have never left Salt Lake County alongside refugees from every corner of the globe -- a place where I feel the most at home I’ve ever felt yet wrestle with the challenges of being a spiritual minority.
I’ve also applied to law school. Six of them, to be exact. I didn’t have a perfect LSAT score and, really, I’m thankful, because feeling unexcited by certain “yes’s” and not disappointed by being waitlisted at others helped me realize where I wanted to be from the beginning, regardless of if my feelings were reciprocated yet. So a couple of months ago, I withdrew all of my applications besides the University of Utah in Salt Lake City, where I have been waitlisted.
I thought about writing this once I had some answers. Maybe I will have gotten them by the time you read this. Then I realized how greatly that would suck the truthiness and the rawness and the beauty out of what it is that I’m (clearly still) learning.
I can’t tell you that there weren’t any tears or anxiety about placing my eggs in a single law school basket. But what I can tell you is the peace I have felt since has changed my life, regardless of if I am admitted to the U this fall, or if God allows me to attend law school at all. Following heaps of prayer and reflection, I felt more led to continue to grow roots in this place that has watered me, than I did to enroll somewhere else simply to abide by my self-imposed law school timeline.
Here’s the punchline: True freedom comes when confidence is placed entirely in the person of Christ rather than self. When I am not confident in God’s authoritative, all-knowing, perfectly loving character to continue writing my story, that is when I feel enslaved to my own pen -- to anxiety about whether or not I’m pursuing the correct passion, to the opinions of others who might see my decision to withdraw from viable choices as crazy, to my own merits to get me what I believe I “deserve.”
I’m learning that confidence equates to rest, insecurity equates to striving. When I follow God - like really, authentically give Him my whole life - I am free to be joyful in the waiting, knowing that things are out of my hands, that He has been faithful in guiding me before and will continue to be.
However, one scary revelation in the midst of this is realizing there may be times when I am worshiping God’s answers to my decision-making questions more than enjoying Him for who He is. I see this as a common struggle. Are we so worried about our next “goal” that seeking God and inviting Him into our everything is no longer the ultimate goal? Lord Jesus, would we be so in love with you that we want you more than we want security.
It was snowing in Zion when we were backpacking last weekend. I had envisioned our 30-mile trek to be sunny and to be dry and warm sleeping in a tent. No such luck. Amidst moments of shivering frustration, I realized what a unique gift the snow and rain ended up being - it cooled us off as we hiked, gave the terrain an eerie beauty and kept large crowds away from the Park, making it feel like we had it all to ourselves.
Unexpected changes in plans and factors that at first seem disastrous are almost always blessings in disguise and take us on sanctifying adventures that, if easy, would make pretty boring stories.
There’s a lot that’s unclear as I’m finishing up my year as a Salt Lake Fellow. The story has been anything but boring. But what is clear is that Salt Lake is home to me. What is clear is that rejection can and will lead to beautiful redirection. What is clear is that I have a strengthened, closer relationship to my Creator, with increased trust and joy in Him and a settled confidence even in snow or rain.
I am a runner. Not for exercise, (I hate running for exercise and unashamedly admit that) but from people, places, and situations. I can’t stay anywhere for too long and I always find a reason to make a move to something new. This correlates to my general attention span that seems to have been stunted at age two; but also related to my extreme anxiety of being committed, which in my mind correlates to being stuck. If I am always on the move, new environments new friends, I will never have to be invested and, in the past, this is how I’ve operated.
Recently, a college friend from N.C. asked me when I got into yoga (a physical pursuit I’ve really come to know and love this year). I replied, “I’ve gotten into a lot of things in Utah.” Then I started to think of all the new “things I’ve gotten into,” and it hit me, I’ve actually invested myself this year; in the people around me, in this city, in things that correlate to life in Utah. For the first time, I feel settled and have zero desire to run. As soon as I realized this, terror flooded my brain. I know it seems crazy that being content is scary, but it’s probably one of my biggest fears, not having somewhere next to go or do.
There’s a lot of weight carried with being settled, being invested somewhere. I’m so used to keeping things superficial so when I run away my absence isn’t too heavy for the people and places I left. For the first time I’m wrestling with the idea of my presence here in Utah carrying weight and the responsibility that comes with it.
Another important thing to note about me is that I am very 0% or 100% about everything I do, I absolutely have no middle ground, and I can go from 0 to 100 or back down insanely quick and it makes me seem like the craziest, scattered human. All that to say, as 100% as I’ve been about living in Utah and as 100% as I currently am about “living here forever and never leaving” as everyone who currently knows me has heard me say, I’m very terrified that something is going to happen and I’m going to hit 0% randomly sometime down the road and want to run away and it won’t be easy because of the investment I’ve made, so in a way I’m scared of the unknown and mostly myself.
All in all, there’s a lot going on in my ever-racing mind right now as the Fellows program comes to a close and I prepare to stay in Salt Lake City for another year, figuring out the details of housing, career, etc. But the change and the preparation has brought and is continuing to bring so much reflection and that’s good too.
Salt Lake Fellows Collaborative