Growing up in my family, you didn’t need to attend a service to learn about religion. Coming from a diverse background, every family member was raised in a different religion, and every family meal was accompanied by a conversation about it. I can still envision my seat at the table; to my right was my paternal grandpa, who was raised under the church of the Reorganized Latter-day Saints. While he broke away on his eighteenth birthday, he carries many lessons from the Mormon Church with him today. Across the table was my maternal grandpa, who was a Baptist. To his side was my maternal grandmother, a devout Buddhist, who became Protestant 8 years ago. To my left, my brother, an atheist. Next to him, my mother, who grew up in the Muslim country of Jordan, and my father, who was raised as a Protestant in Missouri.

These family dinners, overrun by a duet of thick mandarin and country twang, have shown me that amid differences, these religions all share similar values. Tense discussions came and went, but laughter always returned to the dinner table, like a familiar friend who refused to stay for too long. While my family may all have different faiths, it's the shared understanding of all of these that brings us together and makes us family.

Looking back at Thanksgiving dinner a few years ago, this topic came up. We all sat down at our dining room table, piled with steaming dishes and decorations that my cousins and I had made. The sound of rain tickling the roof and the crackle of the fire in the background echoed throughout the house. As we all settled down and joined hands in prayer, I found myself thinking about our differences: the Buddhist and Baptist beliefs that my mother's parents followed, the teachings of the RLDS church that remain etched in my paternal grandpa's mind, the various other beliefs in between - yet we all unite under the same roof as one family. In that moment, I realized that our differences weren’t the cracks in the foundation of our family, but the beams that held us together. Unfortunately, that night became one of the last dinners we had as a whole family. My cousins moved out, and our families flew back to our homes across the country. Soon after, my grandpa passed, and my grandma’s dementia grew, forcing us to move her into an assisted living home. Since then, our once rowdy and passionate dinner-time conversations have faded to distant memories.

Yet, to this day, I aspire to embrace these differences, just as I have in my family. Since that dinner, I have found that some of my most cherished memories are those where my family and I discussed our differences and learned to appreciate them. Through this new perspective, I have begun to see these same convictions within my friend group: different faiths, different ideas, different paths, yet it's the mutual understanding of these that makes us close.

While my family's dinner table sits with fewer seats, the lessons it has instilled in me remain unchanged. The diversity that my family shows is something that is uniquely American: a diversity that is understood, a diversity that is comfortable, and a diversity that is natural. It has taught me to find unity despite difference, something I now carry in every friendship and experience I have. Going into college, I hope to surround myself with people who believe differences don't divide us, but deepen human connection. Ultimately, I wish to contribute to a community that not only accepts people of differing beliefs but thrives on them.

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