I experimented these past few weeks taking photos of my routine, daily habits. I wanted to see the familiar with new eyes.  On the first night, I captured this vivid scarlet and plum sunset over the snowy Park City mountaintops. It was one of those breathtaking moments where I just stood overwhelmed by the grandeur of the scene. I grabbed my camera but knew that the moment was more than what I could see – the point was the emotions of what it evoked. Wonderment. Gratitude. Reverence. Awe.

Over time, words that were once positive can acquire a negative meaning – very different from their original intent. One of these words is “awful.” Centuries ago, the word awful meant “awe-inspiring,” “worthy of respect,” and “profoundly respectful or reverential.” 

BYU President Kevin Worthen gave this encouragement to graduating students last year: “My admonition is that you be awful in its original, unpejorated sense; that you always be aware of things that are awe-inspiring. I am urging you to be full of awe, if you will.” 

In this sense, when you’re being awful, you’re in the moment with a spirit of gratitude. When I viewed that amazing sunset, I wasn’t thinking about anything except how very blessed I was to be looking out the window in that very moment to see that very magical sky. It gave me a moment of peace, of pleasure, of pure awe. 

I understand why awe inspires creativity. Who hasn’t wanted to capture an awe-inspiring scene with a photograph to share with others? A carefully curated Instagram or Facebook account can evoke awe over anxiety. I love seeing my nieces and nephews in tender or playful moments. Beautiful pictures of nature around the world, poems, and encouraging quotes from those I respect boosts my daily inspiration.

The search for awe often underlies our love of travel near and far away. Mona Lisa, the Great Wall of China and the canals of Venice evoke wonderment. But closer to home, guaranteed awfulness can be seen at the magical Temple Square Christmas lights, discovering Delicate Arch as you turn the corner from the sandstone trail, and the bounteous spring wildflowers in Albion Basin. 

When we were children, we were truly awful. We were captivated by bugs, clouds, boxes, and funny faces! Somewhere along the way we moved away from those experiences to focusing on the modern meaning of awful – politics, promotions, competitions, and comparisons. And with that view change has come the accompanying emotions of defeat, dread, and depression. 

I believe we can rediscover our adult awe if that is our intention. When combined with gratitude, it’s a sure way to replace fear with hope and darkness with light. This season let the children around you teach you how to be awful. Follow their lead as they eat cookie dough, regularly move ornaments around on the tree, fall to sleep reading books about Santa Claus, and sing goofy songs about being run over by reindeer. Whether it’s the lights, the snowflakes, the uplifting songs, or the story of Christ’s birth – I challenge you to truly be awful this Christmas.