By Molly Balison
I had the honor of speaking at the College of Arts and Sciences Commencement for the Class of 2025 at Boise State. Students, families and faculty gathered in the extra mile Arena at 7 p.m. to commemorate the graduates. Storytelling has shaped my time in college and Interfaith Sanctuary, so it shaped the speech I’m sharing with you all:
It feels unreal to be standing here today — as someone who once doubted she’d even make it to college, let alone speak to an audience of graduates. // I let anxiety and fear have control over the better half of my life. But if that younger version of me could see this moment, I think she’d be amazed to see how pain, paired with perseverance, can actually lead to purpose.
Hello Class of 2025! I’m a writer, a dancer, a follower of Jesus, a loyal friend, and a deep thinker. I spent over half of my time at Boise State as the content writer and podcast host for Student Life, and it was an absolute honor to share your stories.
Friends, family (hi Mom!), classmates, professors, and fellow Broncos — what a beautiful day this is. Each of us carries a story. A collection of moments marked by hope, hardships, risk, resilience, and growth.
And while graduating is worth celebrating, this isn’t the final page. It’s simply the turning of it — the beginning of a brand – new – chapter.
There’s power in the pages of our stories.
There’s incredible power in how our stories are written and how our stories are told.
Exploring new opportunities writes exciting chapters in our lives. For me, this chapter started when I walked through the Quad as a high schooler with a gut feeling that Boise State was where I was supposed to be.
A year later, I found myself back in that same Quad, surrounded by not just employers, pamphlets and career fair merch, but opportunities. One sign caught my eye: “Student Communications & Marketing.” This sounded like it aligned perfectly with my passions in journalism, communication and content production — so I wrote down my name, not knowing what doors that simple action would open to impact my story and others’.
Through my role as a content writer, I learned the power of storytelling. Writing blogs like WIWIWHK and 5 ½ Things helped students feel seen. This passion led me to Interfaith Sanctuary, where I met our unhoused neighbors who courageously shared their raw, unfiltered journeys. As Editor-in-Chief of The Word on the Street newspaper, it became my privilege to turn those vulnerable stories into something hopeful — words that reach over 30,000 readers.
Every story matters. Your story matters.
My friend Ashlyn Clark, a wildly talented singer, dancer, and sound tech, reminds me that storytelling can go beyond the written word. She recently told me, “I’m learning to trust the voice I have. I love trying new, weird, and even scary things — and I can’t wait to keep going.”
Her courage to step into the unknown reminds me that how we live is part of the story we’re writing. AndI think boldness is beautiful ink to use.
If stories are made of moments, relationships are what give those moments meaning.
I was terrified that I wouldn’t make any friends in college. But at a kickoff event during my first semester, I walked alone into a backyard full of strangers. (Honestly, I had to shake out my hands just like I did before getting on this stage.)
That night, I met Rayleah Valles — a fiery redhead I assumed was way too cool to be my friend. But through dance parties, late-night talks, and shared vulnerability, she became one of the people I hold dearest.
Rayleah’s story — of beating cancer, traveling the world, and boldly sharing her faith — has shaped my own. She taught me to persevere through highs and lows —- whether I lost a friend or landed a new job —- she taught me to trust the next chapter without knowing what will be written next…like we’re all wondering today.
People like her walk into our lives unexpectedly, but they help write the most beautiful chapters.
There’s also power in telling our stories, since each of us holds a story worth telling.
It’s our journeys that connect us all. And when we speak honestly about where we’ve been, we create space for others to feel less alone.
Podcasting became one of my favorite ways to do this. When I mentioned an interest in podcasting, my boss Rebecca Stitch at Student Life said, “Let’s try it.” And just like that, we got a team together and the Get a Student Life podcast was born.
I interviewed engineers, artists, nontraditional students, and faculty — people with vastly different backgrounds. And yet, every story shared this golden thread: being part of something — belonging — made all the difference.
But I didn’t always feel like I belonged. For years, I wrestled with anxiety and depression. I tried to claw my way out with my emotional outlets: journaling, dance, and crying. But nothing truly healed the ache. It wasn’t until college that I saw how purpose could rise from pain.
Hosting a Bible study in my little house was one of the most meaningful experiences of my time in college. Every Thursday, 8 to 15 girls gathered to talk about life, faith, and all the messy stuff in between.
One night, I opened up about my mental health struggles to be honest with my community that I felt like I was spiraling again. Afterward, a girl told me that she could relate to what I shared so I read her a poem I’d written that morning. After bearing my soul she looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, “I feel the same.”
That moment didn’t fix either of us — but it connected us. Sometimes the deepest healing comes from simply being known.
Through Cru, a campus ministry dedicated to connecting people with Jesus and friends who follow him, I learned that real belonging isn’t about fitting in — it’s about letting yourself be known. My boyfriend Conner Monroe told me that, “Sometimes we don’t have to go through it to learn it.” That’s the gift of stories — we can lean on each other and grow together.
We can learn from each other’s stories.
Conner showed me this the day we met when he walked up to me at a table on the Student Union patio, as if we were old friends. He sat down and told me stories of some of the hurdles he had to overcome to be at Boise State – taking time off of school to work, moving multiple times and growing his faith in God.
Then he asked about my story — which surprised me — but I think we should all be more willing to ask about someone’s journey. I’ll be honest, I was hesitant at first, but I told him some of the stories that I’ve shared with you today — including why I have the word fearless tattooed on my arm. I didn’t want to be held back by fear anymore, but to step into boldness.
I’m glad I opened up because it led to a beautiful relationship where we accept each other’s stories and push each other to grow out of hardship.
So, Class of 2025 — what story are you writing next?
Whether you’re full of confidence, or uncertainty, remember this:
The story you have matters. You get to choose how to write it and tell it with boldness, kindness, purpose. And when you let your voice be heard, you give someone else permission to do the same. We’re more than students, we’re storytellers.
I never thought I’d be standing here, especially after a childhood and adolescence full of anxiety and depression. But that’s the beauty of stories — they evolve. And new chapters hold new hope.
Romans 5:3 in the Bible says that suffering produces perseverance, which produces character, which produces hope.
On the top of my graduation cap, I wrote a phrase that reminds me who’s holding the pen:
“I trust the next chapter because I know the Author.”
Thank you, Jesus. Thank you Mom and Dad. Thank you, Boise State.
Congratulations, Class of 2025 — I am so proud of us.