It all starts with a college essay
Hear the sroty from Willa’s voice
Willa Main
In Utah, where nearly 60% of the population is Mormon, my family was a noticeable exception. We didn’t attend church on Sundays or participate in the same religious rituals as our neighbors. Instead, we created our own spiritual practices, rooted in a belief in something greater—something without a specific name or doctrine.
My parents, from different religious backgrounds, chose to raise us with the idea that spirituality is personal and diverse. From a young age, I noticed these differences. While most of my friends went to church, we stayed home and explored spirituality in our own way. Our family prayers weren’t directed to a specific deity but “to whoever is listening.” My mother believed in crystals and meditation, while my father, raised Methodist, embraced a more open-ended spirituality. These differences made our family unique, but the outside world didn’t always see it that way.
One day, my sister Indy and I were playing in our backyard when Maria, one of Indy’s friends, handed her a ‘Book of Mormon’ and said, “You should read this.” Her mother added, “If you read it by December, you can join us at church.” I felt confused. Why was this book so important? Was there something wrong with our beliefs?
As time went on, subtle pressures to conform increased. Invitations to church events were common, and neighbors left religious pamphlets on our doorstep. One Christmas, someone left two wrapped gifts for Indy and me. Inside were copies of the Book of Mormon. I wondered why our way of life seemed like something others felt needed correcting. But my parents always taught us to embrace diversity and foster community. They hosted gatherings that welcomed everyone, regardless of beliefs. Those gatherings were filled with laughter and acceptance, where people from all walks of life came together.
As I grew older, I came to appreciate my parents’ efforts to build bridges where lines were often drawn. Their commitment to inclusivity made me realize that my family’s spiritual ambiguity wasn’t a flaw but a strength. We were free to explore our own paths, without being confined to a particular religious box.
The most profound realization of this came during a service trip to Fiji. Our group was invited to a local church service, and I felt apprehensive. Years of feeling judged for not following the predominant faith had made me wary of religious spaces. But as we sat in the small church, the congregation began to sing, their voices filled with warmth and sincerity. Then, the village Chief started his prayer with the words, “To whoever is listening.” A wave of relief washed over me. His words echoed the prayers of my childhood, when my family spoke to a universal spirit that transcended any single belief system. I realized that spirituality could be as open and accepting as my parents had always taught me.
Returning home, I no longer saw our differences as a barrier but as a bridge. I understood that faith isn’t about conformity but about connection. It’s about embracing your beliefs while respecting those of others. My family’s spiritual journey taught me that community isn’t about everyone being the same; it’s about accepting and celebrating our differences.
This perspective has shaped who I am today. I strive to build inclusive communities, just like my parents did, where everyone feels welcome and valued. As I look ahead to college, I want to be part of a diverse community that embraces spirituality, identity, and inclusion. Having LGBTQ+ members in my family has taught me firsthand how vital it is to be in a space where all identities are honored. I seek a place where our differences are seen as strengths, and where kindness and respect are the foundation of a truly welcoming community.
