The Fox and The Sparrow

There was once a fox who lived in a hole in a grassy field in the French countryside. He was never happy. He would scamper to and fro, catching mice where he could, and eating garbage from the folks who lived not to far away when he couldn't find any mice.

One day, as he was grumbling to himself about how scratchy the grass was as he brushed pass, he spotted a movement off to his right a few yards away.
"Oh goodie, there's my lunch," he thought. He immediately went into stealth mode and crept silently toward his prey. Closer, closer, closer, until he was just a breath away from the oblivious mouse. Suddenly, the fox sneezed.
"ACHOO!"

The mouse was off in a flash. The fox cursed and humphed to himself, letting his head fall on his front paws.
"Humph," he humphed.
After lying there for a minute or two, the fox saw another movement off to his left. Grumbling he got back up and quietly padded over to his next victim, however, he wasn't as quiet as he was the first time, and the mouse heard him coming. It darted off into the tall grass away from the fox.
"Grrrr," growled the fox, his mood quickly falling from its already low altitude.
After a few minutes he heard a squeak behind him. He quickly turned and pounced on the creature, however it scampered up his paw and jumped off his back before he realized what had happened.
"Gaaaahhh!" howled the fox. "Why can't I get just a single, meatless, mangy mouse?"

He kicked a pebble in front of him and turned around, planning to head back to his hole to eat some of the garbage he had stored for such occasions when he couldn't catch any mice.
"Ow!" a voice said. The fox lazily swung his head back around, but he couldn't see anything through the grass. "I say, what would you do that for?" the voice asked. The fox squinted, but still couldn't see anything.
"Who's there?" snarled the fox.
"I am, chap," the voice answered, predictably. "Though I shouldn't be. It's quite strange, it is. Can't really make head or tails of it!"

The fox hungrily walked toward the direction of the voice. Soon the grass parted in front of him, and he saw a small, English sparrow lying in a clearing, sprawled awkwardly with one wing bent at a strange angle.

"Ah! Foxy, I do say. do you think you could help an ol' chap out?" the sparrow asked, smiling as the fox walk into the clearing.
"And why would I do that?" questioned the salivating fox. "What have you ever done for me?"
"Well, nothing, I'm quite afraid! Though I dare say you could get a warm feeling right down in your belly if you were to straighten my wing for me!" the cheerful sparrow petitioned.
"Oh, I'm sure I would get a warm feeling in my belly," the fox answered. "Though I doubt it's the kind of warm feeling you're thinking of."
"Oh ho ho! Foxy! What a joke! But come now, I am in quite a lot of pain, and you are in a position to help me!" it chirped.
"Give me one good reason why I should help you instead of eat you," the fox challenged.
"Well, it tis the season, is it not?" the sparrow tried.
"I don't even know what that means, bird." And the fox began to advance on the helpless sparrow.
"Quite right, quite right..." the sparrow muttered to itself, seemingly completely oblivious to the hungry fox padding toward it. "Oh wait! I've got it!"
The fox stopped, glaring.
"You like mice, if I'm not mistaken?" the sparrow asked.
"Not particularly," grumbled the fox.
"I see, well, that's that!" the sparrow conceded.
"What's what?" the confused fox asked.
The sparrow laughed. "You know, I don't quite know, chap!" And the sparrow laughed to itself as it lay on the ground.

The fox was taken back. He didn't understand how this helpless sparrow could possibly laugh with a broken wing and the threat of being eaten alive.

The fox thought to himself for a second, then shrugged. A meal was a meal. He walked over to the sparrow and gobbled it up, then headed back to his hole in the ground to take his afternoon nap.

THE END

The moral of the story: You can never trust the French when they're hungry.

Called To Serve

Dear Elder Howell,

You are hereby called to serve as a missionary of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. You are assigned to labor in the New Jersey Morristown Mission. You should report to the Mexico Missionary Training center on Wednesday, March 4, 2015. You will prepare to preach the gospel in the Spanish language.

I've reached that point in my life where I now have the privilege to serve The Lord for two years of my life!! I am beyond excited. There will be no other time in my life where I am able to dedicate 100% of my time, ALL the time, to this gospel. It really is a blessing.

If someone had told me a few years ago that I would be serving my mission in New Jersey speaking Spanish, I'm not going to lie, I think I would be pretty disappointed. However, I can't even begin to describe the immense joy and gratitude I felt as I read that first line of my call. "You are hereby called to serve as a missionary of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints," and that's when I knew that I would be completely fine with wherever I was called to. 

I am honored to be called to serve the people of New Jersey, and I can't imagine I could have been happier with anywhere else I could have been called. The church is true. I testify to you through this run-of-the-mill blog that Jesus Christ lives, and that Joseph Smith saw Him and The Father in a vision in 1820. This is fact. And now I get to go tell everybody the joyous news: "God loves you! You are His child." 

I am so excited to serve. 

"For the fullness of mine intent is that I may persuade men to come unto the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, and be saved." (1 Nephi 6:4)

Cheesecake

Sometimes you just have nothing to write about.

This Is College

Well, I suppose you could say that I made it! Twelve long years of school completed, (fourteen if you count kindergarten and preschool) ...and now I'm back again for another four to six! How marvelous.

But I like it here. BYU really is a nice place to be, especially since I am so familiar with the area. It practically feels like home! And home as now become home for some 2,000+ more freshmen besides me. Granted, classes haven't started yet, and to be honest, so far it has all felt a lot like EFY all over again. But that's okay! Because EFY is awesome. And I'm not sure if I'm completely ready for classes to start. But they will, and when that time comes, I will say a prayer and dive in.

My roommate's name is Isaac, and he's from Canada. Pretty cool huh? His ethnicity is actually Turkish, and he's not a member (as of right now). He has been investigating since January though! So I hope that I will be able to answer any of the questions he may have, and that I will be able to show him the depth of my testimony through my actions. He's definitely in the right place though, surrounded by the gospel. I wish everybody could have this opportunity and be as open to learn as he is. He's such a great kid.

One of my goals for college is to be more social than I was in high school! So I plan on going to more of the events going on here than I did in college. Now, that doesn't mean I'm going to go to EVERY one, because I doubt I will ever get to that point (and frankly I really don't want to either!). I'm content being who I am, but I realize that I should step a little further out of my shell for a little bit here. I gotta work on remembering people's names! That's gonna be a big thing. I can talk to all the people I want, but if I can't remember their name, (which I usually don't...) then it won't really matter haha. So that's goal number two!

I really love how much BYU is centered in the gospel. It surrounds everything here! It's going to help me so much in preparing for a mission. One of the things that really hit me during freshman orienteering happened during a devotional we all had Friday morning. They were showing a video documentary made about the history of BYU, and one of the quotes somewhere in the middle of it stood out far above the others. I can't give it justice by just summarizing, so here is the actual quote, with the bolded part being the thing that stood out to me:

Zina Young Williams, the dean of women of the Brigham Young Academy in Provo and a daughter of Brigham Young. The academy was less than a decade old and was experiencing serious financial difficulties that, if not resolved, would mean its closing. After listening to Sister Williams’s plea for help, President Taylor took her hand “in a fatherly way” and said:

“My dear child, I have something of importance to tell you that I know will make you happy. I have been visited by your father. He came to me in the silence of the night clothed in brightness and with a face beaming with love and confidence told me things of great importance and among others that the school being taught by Brother [Karl G.] Maeser was accepted in the heavens and was a part of the great plan of life and salvation; . . . and there was a bright future in store for . . . preparing . . . the children of the covenant for future usefulness in the Kingdom of God, and that Christ himself was directing, and had a care over this school.” [Leonard J. Arrington, ed., The Presidents of the Church (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1986), pp. 108–109]

I know that that statement is true. I know the gospel of Jesus Christ is true, and the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints is the only church on the face of this earth that contains the fullness of God's plan, His words, and His love for His children. That is my testimony, and I'm so proud to be part of the newest class of Brigham Young University! Go Cougars!

The Boy And The Moon

He sat.

He sat outside in the starlight, gazing up at the thick clouds that covered most of the flickering lights.

They're so inconsistent, he thought to himself. The stars. He laid back into the blanket of soft grass that whispered like silk, swaying gently in the night air. One moment you think you see one, only to squint a little harder and realize that the sky was playing tricks on your eyes. The stars... He sighed. The stars are beautiful; they shimmer like dim light reflecting off old crystal in a filled ballroom. But the Moon... The Moon is beauty.

He closed his eyes and smiled slightly, the corner of his mouth curving into a satisfied curl. He loved spending his summer nights sleeping outside in the fresh air. It gave him a sense of freedom that he couldn't feel anywhere else.

The trees around him rustled suddenly as a stronger gust of wind howled through the sky. They shook for a second or two and then settled again, the noise once more being replaced with the sounds of the night. The boy listened to the chirping symphony of crickets and cicadas, the grass playing a part in the music as well. They droned out the noise of the highway only a stone throw away from where he lay. Not that the highway was quite busy at this time of night, but it comforted the boy.

Ironically, he thought, they are louder than the cars. And yet, they are silence. I hear them, but yet I do not. They are the noise of my thoughts - loud and many, yet private and unregistered. They are beautiful as well; all around me, and yet I don't see them. But they are there... they are there.

The boy opened his eyes, but the rest of his body stayed still. The night was not unpleasant, but he had experienced better.

He shivered.

Another breeze snuck through the air, making the trees sing again, adding harmonies of frail tones to the orchestra of the night, as if to announce the presence of their guest of honor.

A cloud shifted.

The Moon appeared, revealing herself in a dreamy ribbon of silvery light. She gazed down from the sky and found herself looking directly into the eyes of the boy.

"Hello Moon," said the boy, letting his eyes take in her beauty. "You look magnificent tonight."

"Of course I do," replied the Moon. "When do I not?"

"I cannot answer that," said the boy, closing his eyes again.

"I thought not," laughed the Moon, sending out beams of light into the hazy clouds nearby.

"Tell me," said the boy, "Do you ever grow weary?"

"Oh no," said she. "Not I."

"Of course not, of course not," replied the boy with a wave. "Forgive me." He sat up suddenly and leaned his back on a nearby tree, his legs crossed in front of him. "But I must ask, why do you wear a mask?"

The Moon looked curiously at the boy.

"What I mean is, why do you hide your beauty for a month, only revealing yourself completely on only one night out of thirty?"

"I fear you are mistaken," replied the Moon. "Am I not always this wonderful? I wear no mask - I have no need for one."

"I see," sighed the boy, sinking back down the tree trunk to lie down once more.

"I am always shining, boy," said she. "Whether or not you can see my beauty is not my problem." And she focused her attention elsewhere.

"Indeed," the boy said quietly, and looked away. "Indeed it is not. But the Sun never made such excuses..."

"What was that?" snapped the Moon, immediately focusing back on the boy.

"Oh nothing," said the boy, closing his eyes once more. "But you have no reason to be jealous of the Sun. You're much easier on the eyes, and one could stare at you all night and never grow tired."

"That certainly is true," huffed the Moon. "But don't believe for a second that I am jealous of the Sun, oh no!"

"Oh no," repeated the boy to himself. Then, softer than the moon could hear, he whispered, "Though if I was only a reflection of another's glory, I wouldn't feel beautiful, I'd feel cheap. Tainted. No, I would rather make something of myself that others could admire fully every day, and not just on nights when the moon is full and the stars are covered."

"What on earth are you mumbling about?" questioned the Moon. The boy chucked at her unintended pun.

"Do not worry yourself over it," said the boy.

The wind rustled the trees again and the boy shivered. There was a long silence before the boy spoke again.

"Moon, do you ever grow lonely?"

He waited for an answer, but all that replied were the crickets and cicadas. After a long time, the boy questioned again.

"Moon?"

The boy opened his eyes, but the moon had disappeared again behind the veil of clouds that blanketed the sky.

How I Became The Sea

June was the lobster shell I dug by hand; a haven that hid me well beneath the sand

The white, windy waves washed in, but I stayed dry. The great breakers broke again as I nodded off inside. And then, when the empress ran aground and my eyes turned blue and green, I heard a gorgeous sound, and that's when it became a dream. When the sky fell in, when the hurricanes came for me - I could finally crash again.

And that's how I became the sea.

I wrenched the engines off and drank them down, the depths turned the iron soft as they swiftly drowned. And I brought the ocean side to its' rusty knees, as I felt the eventide deepen my shallowed dreams.

And Then

When the empress ran aground, and my eyes turned blue and green, I heard a gorgeous sound.

And that's when it became a dream

When the sky fell in.

When the hurricanes came for me, I could finally crash again.

And that's how I became the sea...

Dream

Dream

I swear I saw a castle

Hidden by the hills

Sunken by the passing time

Frozen in its frills

The amber gates were firebrick red

The towering spires white

The shady hue was tinted blue

All colors of a kite

The countryside was picturesque

With fertile lands to sow

Mountains rising far behind

Laced with ice and snow

I swear I saw a castle

Fair as I've ever seen

I swear I saw that castle

But it may have been just a dream

~Trevor Howell