20. Conclusion

This writing class has been productive for me moving forward as a writer and educated individual. Despite wiritng thorughout my life, I have learned a few things in this class that have stuck with me more than any other English class I have taken before. Of these things are the importance of topic sentences and conclusions, the power of skim reading, and visual rhetoric through maintaining this blog.

As I wrote my rhetorical analysis paper, I quickly realized that the things I write make sense in my mind but don't always come across that way. I have the tendency to overcomplicate my writing so I have learned the power of being concise. My topic sentences did not appeal to my thesis statements but would rather feel like a new introduction every paragraph. Therefore, my concluding sentences did not tie back to the topic sentence and thesis in a way that gave logical flow. In short, my point was not coming across. Now, I have learned how to use my thesis to shape those sentences instead of writing on a blank canvas every time.

The first thing we did in this class was learn the power of skimming. I would have never only read the introduction and conclusion before the middle on my own, so learning that has been huge for he in quickly comprehending passages that I must read in my school work. Without that, I would waste a lot of time still in reading complete passages, only to forgot much and retain little. That initial moment in the class proved to me that I would learn many important things needed to become a better reader and writer.

Lastly, this blog has helped me in conveying my own thoughts and insights in a rhetorical way visually. I hadn't thought it much before, other than on social media, but reading something bare is much more unappealing that reading something with illustration or images complementing it. I think about being a kid and loving to read picture books instead of soup labels. I think the same rule applies. Visual rhetoric is important in English but also in appearance through things like body language and polite gesturing. That's something I have learned from simply maintaining this blog and applying it to everyday life.

In conclusion, this writing class has helped me to learn things on my own as well as through a great instructor and peers. Writing has always been a strength of mine so I haven't consciously focused on improving it very much. Doing so now has proved very beneficial moving forward and I continue to be grateful for it every day.

19. General Conference Analysis - Elder Holland

In Elder Jeffrey R. Holland's conference talk "Songs Sung and Unsung", rhetorical devices are expertly used to convey his message of encouraging diversity and inviting all to come unto Christ. Elder Holland delivered a wonderfully structured talk that begins with reference to a well-known hymn and uses it to propel a consistent allegory of a choir that supports his claim of strength in diversity.

Elder Holland begins his talk by quoting lines from the well-known hymn "There is Sunshine in My Soul Today" to assert that singing brings joy to the soul. He adapts the lines of the song to fit his message that "happy moments" will not always "roll." By referencing this song to the many members of the church, he is able to draw in his audience through something they already recognize as familiar. This hymn serves Elder Holland's talk with a foundation for his claim that mankind represents a dynamic choir and keeps the musical motif constant throughout his talk. He also closes with lyrics to another popular hymn that wraps up his argument in an emphatic way, calling members of the Church to action. By making these references to hymns sung weekly in meetinghouses, Elder Holland skillfully connects his message to his audience through familiar means.

Throughout his talk, Elder Holland presents an allegory of humanity as a diverse choir. He tells of a "musically challenged" singer and how such a person desires to be placed next to a confident, strong voice so that they can be supported. This is a parallel Elder Holland uses to show that at many moments, each individual will be weak and in need of such support. He suggests that the support comes from the Savior standing alongside us, whether in the form of His Spirit or in the form of an earthly disciple sent to the rescue. In addition, Elder Holland speaks of a rich choir as full of separate vocal parts - sopranos, altos, baritones, basses. Through this, he is able to precisely speak of humanity's diversity as a necessity for robust harmony and peace. He uses examples of people who may feel like a misfit to the gospel or mankind and reaches out to them with a specific, vital part that is needed in the choir of God. Elder Holland invites all to join in the choir of God that will sing songs of praise both heard and unheard. His allegorical use of a choir substantially furthers his claim and conveys his message in a way that would be weakened without it.

Elder Holland's message of strength in diversity is clearly conveyed by way of his expert allegory and connection to his audience. He uses rhetorical devices to appeal to those he speaks to and calls them to action by inviting them to join the choir and come unto Christ. His talk "Songs Sung and Unsung" resonates with all those who hear it and he defines a place for all who feel misfit for the kingdom across any demographic barriers. His argument is clear and powerful as he wishes that all of God's children may sing in His choir with sunshine in their soul.

18. The Daughter of My Mother

Since a child, my mother dreamed of having a daughter of her own. I did not fulfill that dream, being the oldest of five children, when I came out as a boy. She will tell you that she was joyful, however. Three children later, my mother found herself greatly outnumbered by having four sons to no daughters. She's recently told me about her battle after my youngest brother, because she was going to stop having children becasue of age and with that, any chance of having a daughter of her own. But she had always had the feeling that a daughter would be a part of our home, and she wouldn't let that feeling die.

My parents are regular temple-goers. They always have been and claim to always be. Inside the temple, after much prayer, fasting, and personal research, my mother received personal revelation that would later be confirmed to my father. That feeling of having a daughter did not die. She was prompted to adopt. I still remember when my parents corraled us four boys onto the couch to tell us that we would be getting a sister. They had already taken steps of faith and were underway to adopting my sister from unfortunate political circumstances within China.

Six weeks before my parents left for China, we received pictures and a story from a rural orphanage near the border of Mongolia. As soon as my mother looked upon her, she felt a familiar spirit calling to her and was touched deeply. My parents went to China over Christmas of 2006 to pick up my sister and bring her into our family and the everlasting gospel.

We don't know my sister's exact birthdate. We don't know her parents or where she was born. We have a alleged birth certificate in Chinese as sole documentation of her birth on December 31, 2005. So that is her birthday. Four days later on the 4th of January is when she was found. Early that frigid morning, a jogger ran by a cold, lonely bus station as she did each morning. Apparently she did not listen to music because as she ran she heard crying near some bushes. She stopped running and followed the wails until she came to a small, cardboard box with the top flaps cracked open. Inside lied my sister, wrapped in a small, scratchy blanket with her face exposed to the bitter cold winter. The woman took her in and presented her at the local orphanage where many other little girls lived, abandoned at birth by parents who feared the law.

At this time, China was under the strict one-child policy. Many wanted the boys to carry on the family name and honor. Girls, then, were commonly abandoned or given to orphanages so that the parents would not be caught violating what was "overpopulating". This sad policy has undoubtedly caused unimaginable sorrow among Chinese people as family and ancestors are pinnacles in Eastern culture. I've thought about how hard that must have been, but also at how without the law, my sister would not be with us now.

She is the youngest in our family, the only girl, and has brown eyes and hair in a family of blonde and blue eyes. She is different from us, but we cannot imagine our family without her. To me, she doesn't look Chinese any longer. She is just Jaida. My sister. A daughter of God. The daughter of my mother.

17. Expectations for General Conference

Leading up to General Conference, I didn't have a specific question or topic that I wanted answers to. The only thing that really crossed my mind was that I wanted to find a way to make more spiritual goals that will keep myself accountable for them. I didn't know how an answer to that was going to come, but I kept it in mind just in case.

Because of the job I have, I must work every Saturday for at least 5 hours weekly. I wasn't able to watch the two latter sessions of conference live, but I was grateful to be able to watch the first session Saturday morning. Just before the session started, I thought about the past 6 months and things that I had done to adhere to prophetic counsel since the last conference in October. I also thought about everything that has happened in the world since the last conference we had. I realized that much had taken place, with the pinnacle being the election for President of the United States last November. Having that in mind, I was able to better understand a few talks that addressed the world and promoted equality, love, and charity.

I was also interested (as anyone else was) in the well-being of President Monson. I had heard that he wasn't able to attend the General Women's Session and was concerned for his health and attendance in the Conference. For him to be there and speak in the manner he did proved to be a miracle and the spirit felt from his prophetic words were incomparable.

Lastly, I expected to hear about tolerance and love. Every conference has a central theme that has to do with discipleship and becoming more pure saints, mostly by way of increased love. Stories of charity and love always touch my heart and reteach me that there is no law superior to loving one another. Considering things the world is going through now and how people have been dealing with each other, an increased focus on love is not only necessary but crucial to remedy sour feelings between mankind. My expectations were not disappointed as I watched and heard General Conference.

16. Vulnerability

I had a very deep conversation with some dear friends of mine this past week. As the semester has been nearing its end, we began talking about the relationships we have made with each other. Ironically, each of us still considered ourselves to be closed books as far as revealing our true self to people around us. I'll write in the way that our conversation went.

There are two spectrums, one that ranges from an open book to a closed book and another that ranges from being fake to being real. Each person falls somewhere on both ranges, but are they correlated? Someone can be open about things and a very real person or open and fake simply to draw attention to themselves. Someone can be a closed book and real but limited in what they reveal or a closed book and fake to protect anything inside. The all-around problem is that of vulnerability. We are all afraid of being vulnerable to some extent. For closed books, we don't reveal things about our true nature because we fear of reliving something in the past, failing at trying to become something, or talk about it at all. For me, there is one person, my best friend in Montana, that knows me the very most. I have a mental list of things that I do not share, but she knows the majority of the things on there. As we talked, we found out that most of us had that one person in whom we entrusted our true nature to. As a person, we want to learn the truthful nature about someone and feel trusted to know who someone really is. It's almost like we expect to know everything about someone by developing a relationship with them. But does that person know everything about you? Doubtful. Then what do they owe you in opening themselves up and being vulnerable? It is something that is developed over time and is only built upon a foundation of trust. Vulnerability only feels safe when it is mutual. There is no right or wrong answer on the two spectrums we thought of, but understanding them and how people place themselves has much to say about how we mustn't judge but learn through love and trust.

15. Movie Magic

My family and I like to call ourselves movie junkies. Movies have always been a staple in our home that have brought us together over decades past. It's influenced my life so much that I considered pursruing a profession in film for a while. Below is an analysis I wrote about the classic movie Pinocchio and how its theme was represented through different filmmaking elements:

Pleasure is only Temporary
In the Walt Disney classic Pinocchio, temptation and obedience torment a young puppet as he learns what it means to be a real boy. His innocence betrays him and he is quickly taken advantage of by others seeking an easy gain of money. As the film progresses, Pinocchio encounters many new obstacles that advertise quick happiness and hide long-term consequences, suggesting the theme that immediate pleasures are but temporary. This theme is achieved in the linear narrative through the symbolic representations of both protagonist and antagonist, the important crisis point that reveals Pinocchio’s real character, and how the hero’s journey portrays the theme of temporal pleasure.
Life is granted Pinocchio because of his master’s wish and Pinocchio is introduced to society with no knowledge about how it works. As a comic children’s toy, he embodies innocence and symbolizes it throughout the film as he learns and grows. Because of this, Pinocchio’s naivety is frequently put to the test and he almost always chooses the more pleasurable option in the given moment. His conscious is represented by Jiminy Cricket who tells him that these options are called temptation and for Pinocchio to wisely consider each one. Soon enough, Pinocchio learns first handedly the truth behind these words in instances such as being locked up in the circus van and becoming trapped on Pleasure Island.
The film’s antagonist is represented more as an abstraction than a character. Multiple characters are introduced to convey the idea that instant gratification is the enemy to much wisdom and patience, shown through the manager of Pleasure Island and the circus owner. This idea of instant gratification is symbolized by these antagonists and constricts Pinocchio. As he learns about life and the temptations in it, he ironically disobeys the fairy’s orders to be good and obedient to earn status as a real boy.
Pinocchio reaches a turning point in the film when he faces his crisis of becoming a donkey due to foolish decisions as opposed to a real boy through obedience. It is here that he realizes what will bring him lasting happiness and as he seeks out to rescue his father and friends, his true character reaches the surface of a selfless and innocent boy. His ideas and sacrifice save them from the whale and by being noble and heroic despite affliction, the fairy opens Pinocchio’s eyes to see the selflessness and love that was in him all along. By overcoming his crisis point, Pinocchio learns to overcome temptation and gains perspective between temporal pleasure and lasting joy.
Despite what his conscious tells him, Pinocchio begins to explore the unknown early in the film. As he leaves the safety of home and quickly ventures to the circus, he crosses the threshold of the hero’s journey and rapidly approaches the inevitable abyss. The theme is highlighted in this instance because the audience alongside Pinocchio suspects the outcome to be pleasurable and fun without thinking too hard on the aftermath of his decision to skip school. Soon enough, Pinocchio finds himself locked up and realizes that the fame and pleasure he had is fleeting and his foolishness is making him pay the consequences. Although he learns this lesson, he falls victim yet again to easy happiness when embarking to Pleasure Island, asserting that temporal pleasure can take various forms and appearances. By coming to his senses and saving his master and friends, Pinocchio returns to the known and becomes a real boy with experience and knowledge to help him make better decisions in the future.
Pinocchio is a classic animated film with a strong theme of reminding viewers that pleasure is of temporary substance. Through characteristics unique to a linear narrative, this film teaches that theme and entertains the viewer in a memorable and light-hearted way. Like Pinocchio, the audience learns that instant gratification tends to offer more risk than reward and should always be determined wisely.

14. Change

Over the span of my life I've accepted the idea that I do not like change. As a kid, I cried when my parents sold our family car and was distraught the first time we moved. It is hard for me when I must break out of my comfort zone and jump into unfamiliar territory without a choice. That being said, I've become such a stronger person through enduring change and being forced to adapt to new circumstances. I remember when our family moved from Highland, Utah to Boise. I was eleven. It destroyed my entire world. I distinctly remember being told at school that I would graduate from a high school named French Fry High. It sounds ridiculous now, but even that poking statement felt like a dagger through my young chest. For years I longed to return to Utah and escape where my family had ventured off to. It's amazing to see the change from then to how I feel now.



Boise is the place that taught me happiness can be spelled with only five letters. Each time I see or hear anything about Boise away from home, it connects with me. It is my home. Without the trials, people, or schooling I had done there, I would likely be far from the path I am walking now. Discovering my love for home in the Treasure Valley was the first time I understood change with a glow. It isn't something I necessarily like or freely choose, but change supplies me with something nothing else can: potential for growth. I've taken to heart the following phrase: You cannot grow inside of a comfort zone, and you cannot be comfortable in a growth zone.

13. A Piece of Paper

Three years ago I received a package with a piece of paper that would change my life. It would be a paper outlining the next two years of my life; it would be a paper signed by God's living prophet; it would be a paper that would bring me more joy than I had ever previously known. What I didn't know, was that it would be a paper that would teach me how to love; it would be a paper that would lead my heart away to far lands, never again to return in one piece; it would be a paper that brings a tear to my eye as I think about its significance this day. Words cannot describe my love and adoration for the people and lands of Belgium and the Netherlands. I know I talk about it all the time, even more than once in this blog, but that is just how much my time there impacted my life and character.
I still remember how I felt reading my call out loud. I remember catching a glance at the slash in "Belgium/Netherlands" with the instant thought that I would be going somewhere like the Federated States of Genovia or what not. As I read it, it just felt right. I had always wanted to go to Europe. I knew where Belgium and the Netherlands were on a map, but I didn't know the difference between the Netherlands, Holland, and Denmark. Today, I'd consider it a grave mistake if I were to mix them up like that. I left my heart in those countries and with it, I gained an understanding that I would never get it all back in one place again.

12. March 22, 2016 - Narrative

It was a typical frosty morning in the northern stretches of Antwerpen, Belgium. Clouds crowded the already-grey skies rejecting the sun from touching the concrete cobblestones and budding branches on the trees. We treated it like any other day, prepared to preach the gospel to all those prepared to hear it. We were studying together for the plans we had that busy Tuesday. My companion, Elder Lott, and I were the designated leaders for the 26 missionaries in the northern half of the country. We had little contact with anything south of us for the simple reason that crossing a provincial border instantly translated our surroundings into French. That was the domain for the Paris, France missionaries. This is why the phone call we received from the elders in Charleroi was a surprise from the moment it appeared on the screen. 9:00 am The president of our mission, President Bunnell, and his wife Sister Bunnell had obligations inside the Amsterdam International Airport to re-welcome an elder returning to the mission field. In 20 minutes, his flight would arrive and they would reunite with him shortly after. Nothing in the airport gave any sign of panic or warning; it was just another Tuesday morning full of travelers and tourists catching the scenes of Europe in the spring. Surely what our call would inform President Bunnell of would be the last thing on his mind. 9:30 am We were lucky to have two phones. As we learned of the attacks on Belgium's capital, Elder Lott and I listened intensely to the summary of events taking place in the Brussels International Airport. "There were two explosions," the unknown voice declared, "one right after the other and people began to run through the smoke for the doors." "How do you know this?" I asked. "Members just called us and told us everything that's happened," he replied, "Our zone leaders were supposed to be in the airport this morning. We can't get a hold of them. I'm sorry guys, but our president is calling, I have to go." The connection dropped silent. The missionaries under our direction were all home and studying, many of whom lacked any information about the terror attacks that claimed Brussels as a target. After confirming the safe welfare of each missionary, it was duty to inform President Bunnell with anything of such a nature. I dialed his number and he quickly answered: "Elders, I'm quite busy at the airport right now, I'll have to call you right back. Thanks." Before he could hang up, I interjected, "President, this is an emergency." One full second of silence on the other end was enough time for my mind to question whether he had hung up or was processing what I had just said. "What is it?" I finally heard in reply. I proceeded to relay the information I had about the attacks in Brussels. "Has no one in the airport alarmed anyone? You and Sister Bunnell need to get out of there now." I said, wondering where the courage had come from for me to speak to my mission president in such an assertive tone. "Will do, Elder Reese. Are our missionaries at home? Is there anyone harmed?" The next thing I would tell him would be one of the most bittersweet sentences to ever pass through my lips. "Our missionaries are at home and okay, but president..." I paused, "the zone leaders from the Paris mission were supposed to be in the airport this morning. No one can get a hold of them." I still remember that it was at that point, as I said it myself, that the impact of everything happening hit me like a shockwave. I remained composed while everything inside me was racing. President Bunnell informed me he would head straight home and contact the Paris mission president with all the information he could receive. He’d then relay orders to us and the missionaries located in Belgium. The connection broke off, and with it any physical interaction with countries outside. The national borders were locked down. 10:30 am We had decided to inform the missionaries in our zone of what was happening. Our fear was their fear, but the Spirit was present and the missionaries we contacted remained calm yet concerned. Not concerned for themselves, I must add, but for those involved, for the people they knew in Brussels, for each other. That was the first time all morning I felt the Spirit’s comfort. Elder Lott and I made our way to the church to watch news updates on the national crisis happening only 25 minutes away. Between BBC, the Flemish news, and an awoken CNN Los Angeles broadcast, we collected facts, names, and safety procedures taking place within the city we so dearly loved. A second bomb had been detonated inside a metro station near the European Union Headquarters, panicking many leaders nearby. The station was underground a street called Maelbeek - a station every missionary travels through on the way to verify their extended visa. The attack began to hit much closer to home that at first. Back in the states people slept in their beds, unaware of the crisis unfolding overseas. I sent a short email to my mother informing her of our well-being and for that of the missionaries within our zone of the mission. I had hoped she would contact other mission parents to let them know as they woke up. I had to tell her about the Brussels zone leaders who we could not contact. Undoubtedly, America would wake up to information about them if they'd been involved because both originated from Utah. I sent the email that would hopefully calm the hearts of many soon who would awake in terror. 1:00 pm President Bunnell had instructed all missionaries in Belgium to stay off public transportation and only work within close parameters of home. I personally believed that missionaries should be kept inside until further notice, but each of us dutifully labored for the Lord which proved most vital for His work at that point in time. Every so often Elder Lott and I would return to the church for updates from the United States Embassy as to what American citizens were to do. We nervously opened CNN only to see a headline that would humble us to our knees and be every parent's worst nightmare. It read: Mormon Missionaries among Injured in Brussels Attack. Our fears were confirmed. By this time, President Bunnell had a much better understanding of the situation than we did and we learned from him that no missionary had been killed, but all were severely injured. I still had no reply from home but hoped my family would see my email before turning on the morning news. It was 4 am where they were, enjoying spring break on the Oregon Coast. 6:30 am Pacific Standard Time My dad is an avid runner and constantly trains for his next marathon. That morning he ran along the beach, listening to LDS Conference podcasts while my mother was near Portland where she had grown up. Suddenly, the audio podcasts faded out to signal that he had received a message, but he kept running. Again, a message paused the podcast for a moment, but he pressed on. The third time, he was due to turn around and go back, so he stopped and checked the messages. "Have you heard from Trevan?" one read. "Is Trevan ok? Have you heard about the attack in Belgium?" said another. "We are praying it isn't Trevan, has he contacted you?" I can't imagine the feeling my father had at that moment. He quickly called my aunts who had sent the messages and was told everything at that spot on the windy beach. As quickly as he could hang up, he was on the phone with my mother, pressing her to check her email right away. I've thought about what it would have been like had I not sent that short message that morning. I've thought about how my family would have felt and the helplessness they would have been surrounded by. I've also thought about the people my mother contacted right away because of my message, comforting many parents who were in very dark, unknowing spaces. 2:00 pm, Antwerpen We put our knuckles to good use, just as most days as a European missionary. We knocked on doors and attempted to state our purpose through the soundtrack of blaring sirens flooding the streets behind us. This is doing us no good, I remember thinking, we need to be contacting our missionaries. But my thoughts were contrary to the will of the Lord at that time. After a few doors, we were greeted by a woman who took a keen interest in our badges. She asked if we were Mormons and as we confirmed her hunch, she immediately asked if our companions were okay. I couldn’t believe it. We told her we had had little contact and weren’t sure, but they were alive. She told us she had been watching the news in English and had seen the CNN report about the missionaries, hoping they would be protected as God’s men. Our conversation was solemn yet hopeful. Then it hit me. The Lord was using this horrific tragedy to further His work in Belgium. My perspective evolved at that moment and transcended the sorrow I had felt all day. I asked the woman if we could pray with her for those involved and their families. I was very used to inviting people to pray, but based on this woman’s reaction I could see that she hadn’t prayed in quite some time and that it hadn’t crossed her mind to do so. Perhaps out of surprise at my offer, she simply agreed and we prayed then and there for the welfare of our brothers and sisters. The Spirit resonated between the three of us and something celestial touched that woman’s heart that day. I know it, because it touched mine. The Lord was very aware of everything His children were going through. In the days that followed, Elder Lott and I visited the sister missionary who was in the airport as she was treated at a credible hospital in Antwerpen. Her testimony of the events was inspiring and many members came to visit her from our city. When asked by caretakers how she knew her visitors despite living in France, she bore testimony of Zion being a family – unbroken by language or culture. Hour by hour, missionary miracles were taking place within the Belgian borders as the Lord hastened His work through what was at first only a horrific tragedy. I learned of many more missionary opportunities that presented themselves at the expense of these terrible attacks. At home, people throughout the country connected to the American missionaries injured and were exposed to their stories – both of which bore powerful testimony of seeing good behind the bad. In the mission field, we continued to embrace people who feared such attacks would only increase. We taught them of God’s love and eternal plan which give them perspective and peace in a time or political turmoil. The traumatic attacks on Brussels catalyzed our successes and for the first time since fall, the sun began again to peek through the clouds.

11. Family Separation - Research Paper

The topic I have chosen for my research paper is the issue of family separation due to immigration. I've read multiple sources on the topic and have found more than enough information and discussion about it. Personally, I have a strong Swedish line of ancestors that were split up as they journeyed from their mountain home in Scandinavia to Zion in Utah Valley. Reading that story provided me with the initial spark of interest as to why I am researching this topic more for my paper.

I've come to two major components that I intend to further research to expand my knowledge. They are the public policies that keep families from reuniting across imaginary borders and the likelihood of family disintegration caused by a parent's departure that almost always is done for the best interest of the family unit. It is incredibly interesting and inspiring to me to see these people, often of much less fortunate circumstances, embark on such a perilous journey for the betterment and love of their children. I want to know more about it and deeply understand the motives and feelings of love behind each individual case and decision.

This issue is a major controversy currently and I hope that by researching and gaining added knowledge I will be able to better sympathize and act on behalf of these families. At least, I hope to enlighten my perspective about it. My own sister is adopted from China and has never known her biological family. Although she is well loved and provided for with us, I know as she grows older that she will question the motives behind her parents' decision to leave her for adoption. This issue appeals to me indirectly but in multiple manners, which draws me to learn even more about it.

Luckily, there has been much discussion about it in the past decade which allows me to gain insight on a wide range of opinions and cases. I haven't had to alter my topic at all and have been able to reform my thesis to narrowly address the components of my argument that I see to be most important.

10. Untitled

Both of my parents graduated with Bachelor's degrees and work in professions they enjoy. They both attended and graduated from a prestigious university in the state of Utah. Both of them love unconditionally and work laboriously to provide for their children. Both of my parents would love to see their children live on their legacy and attend the school they love. Both of them went to Utah State University.
I will graduate with a Bachelor's degree in a field that I enjoy. I attend and study at a prestigious university in the state of Utah. I hope to love unconditionally and work laboriously to provide for my children. I would love to see my children live on my legacy and attend the school I love. I go to Brigham Young University.

Different things do not need suggest contrast or opposition. Difference and equality need not seem like antonyms. Look around and you'll see that many things around you are different, but hold the same importance or value that what stands right beside it.

9. Nancy

We returned that following week to an open door and a bright smile. Nancy let us inside where she lived with her daughter and led us past a packed bookshelf full of novels and encyclopedias. We sat down and she began to jaw away at the problems that had confronted her that week. We listened through her countryside Flemish accent until she pulled out her "Boek van Mormon" with her bookmark placed 1/3 of the way deep in the pages. Without hesitating she began asking us questions. "Who is Laban? Why did Nephi have to build a boat?" were just a few. With smiles on our faces we read and answered her questions in connection with the restored gospel.
Nancy had much against churches, common among Europeans in the geographical area, and promised us she would never join ours. She had salty experiences in the past with different churches and vowed to never allow herself to join one - and she still hasn't. In fact, she never came to church with us even once. We taught her weekly over the span on 2 months and helped her through trials on a spiritual level while her thearpist helped through logic. Soon enough, light became visible in her eyes again. Graciously she would thank us for our willingness to listen and support her - two American boys living miles away in the city - as the "Mormoned missionaries". We maintain contact on facebook still.
My purpose in sharing the gospel was fulfilled, not by baptism but by invitation, and it led a legacy for the remainder of my mission. I knocked real doors to invite others to come to Christ, to learn of their story and how mold the gospel to it as a solution. Now with many memorable experiences and friends as results, I use facebook for the sole purpose of reknocking those doors - each post another opportunity for the beloved Dutch and Belgian people to feel, reach for, and accept the everlasting gospel of Jesus Christ.

8. Holland

I've been thinking a lot lately about going back and visiting the people I fell in love with. They live in small, developed countries but have some of the biggest hearts I've known. I served my mission in the Netherlands and northern Belgium speaking the Dutch language.
These lands are tourist destinations within themselves and are globally noteworthy for their natural, architectural, and historical beauty. But their charm isn't only measure in the inanimate. The people, although occasionally stubborn and hard-hearted to our message, glow. Members of the church within these tiny places are beacons of light in a dark world. Their examples shine far brighter than many I have seen or known in the western United States. I love them. I love them so very much.



On my mission I learned quickly about the importance of befriending strangers as fellow men before prospective converts. Doing so prevented a lot of doors being slammed on us, while still combating the initial impulse they had to do it. As I gained language proficiency, I was determined to learn how to talk to people, to relate to people, to laugh with people, and to teach people. Along the never-ending rows of doors we knocked, I went looking for people to meet and souls to touch rather that numbers to baptize.
I remember one particular instance in a small Belgian village. We had little business in the tiny town and decided to knock some doors, knowing that they had probably never been knocked before. A woman answered and laughed as she saw us and began closing the door. We laughed for a moment as she did which caused her to crack the door open in surprise. We talked to her about our funny shirts and ties and thick American accents in combination with our cry to the world for happiness. She began to laugh with us and before we knew it, she told us her story as we had told ours. Soon enough, her depression overcame her and she began weeping as she told her life story and search for happiness following custody issues with her daughter. We testified of the power of our message and the book we shared. She was an avid reader. She read everyday to keep her thoughts light. We shared the Book of Mormon with her and promised to return in a week to tell her more.

7. Conformity

Over the past weeks I've come to notice a strong cultural aspect within the area of Provo. It's pretty different from Boise, despite being only 5 hours away, and its caused me to think a lot about the church throughout the world. Provo is a very unique case for obvious reasons, but nevertheless it has helped me to realize the kind of culture I would like my children to grow up around.
In Boise, approximately 20-25% of my high school were members of the Church. In my opinion, a perfect ratio: just enough to have your buddies to back you up but still a strong enough minority to constantly be an example to those around you. I loved it. I learned so much and appreciated the fact that I was a minority and could bring others to the same light I enjoyed.
That's something I want my kids to grow up on. I want them to be raised to stand up for the beliefs that make them unique and feel the joy of bringing others into it. That's not to say that that cannot be done in Provo; in fact, more missionary work is done within the greater Salt Lake area than anywhere else in the world. But I want my children to enjoy something that I came to learn and love. Who knows where our careers will take us. My wife and I will be at the mercy of the Lord who needs us in particular places.
I hope to give my children the experiences and tests that my parents directly or unknowingly gave me. I am so appreciative of my trials and the people I have come to know in instances separate from the church. It has strengthened my testimony of humanity in general and set me up to serve a mission in a land hostile to religion.
Occasionally, a culture of "pushing the envelope" becomes prevalent around here. Who can push the envelope farthest without breaking it - in other words, who can bend the commandments or standards the most without breaking them. For me and my friends in Idaho, standards weren't optional, being an example wasn't just a good idea and standing up for what you believed in was an everyday routine. I love that about Boise. Rather than conforming to the culture we were surrounded by, we built it as youth of the true church of God.

6. Family Story

Looking back I will always remember Sundays in the fall. As a growing boy, the world was my playground designed only for digging sand-castle moats and collecting flat rocks to later skip on the lake. Sundays were no different with the exception of our weekly venture into town to visit Grandma and Grandpa Swenson. Upon arriving at their home just off of Main Street in Lehi, Utah, I entered the antique doors and was smothered with the scent of fresh cotton and small chocolate candies complemented by white rose aromas every now and then.

My grandmother was an expert seamstress and intricately fabricated blankets for every newborn grandchild (or great grandchild like myself). My grandfather was the Mormon Jay Gatsby dated 60 years into the future while demostrating the epitome of love that only a grandfather can give. He was the son of Helge Vincent Swenson, the first immigrant of a happy Swedish family who embraced the Gospel inside their humble Scandinavian home in the hills.

Family heritage was held in high esteem by the Swensons. Perhaps it was because ancestors split up and were shipped to Utah one at a time, with the youngest being but 12 years old. Or maybe because the early Swensons sold everything they owned for the fare of only half the family. In any regard, Swedish influence remains in our hearts and our blood and binds us together despite circumstances of age.

Visits to my grandparents' home were filled with rich storytelling and rich chocolate, as I very well remember, that I personally consider priceless. But one thing continues to stick out to me more than anything else. Ever since I was an infant, my grandfather would teach me invaluable lessons of life connected to things I would remember as a kid. My most vivid memory came when he would hoist me atop his shoulders and would walk to the foyer of his dated 1970s home. Lining the walls stood a freestanding display of metal rectangles and squares with one per row filled with stained glass of a solid color. My grandfather and I would routinely trace the rows of the foyer as he asked "How many rectangles are there here?" or "What color would this red and this blue make together?". I would intuitively answer him and memorize the answers as his memory would fleet much quicker than mine and he would repeat a question he had asked just seconds ago. His favorite was the combination of blue and yellow, which is blurted to make green before he could explain why he liked them. He would go on to teach me the colors of the Swedish flag and flags of nations surrounding, teaching me to love lands of the world long before I would have any chance of visiting them.

Soon enough I asked for atlases and maps for my birthday or Christmas and would plead with my mother to stop in the grocery aisles with them.

I became acquainted with the rich history of my family roots and learned invaluable lessons from my Swedish grandparents. My grandfather Swenson passed away before reaching the millenium due to chronic pneumonia. His life is remembered by so many for the incredible things he accomplished while I remember him for the simple time he took to teach me love through rudimentary principles. Despite my young and naive age, I will never overlook the legacy and character he left behind, illustrated in each of those Sundays spent in the fall.

5. To Improve - Reading Improvement Plan

A lot of my time has been taken up simply by reading for class here at BYU. It's something that makes or breaks me in understanding things in class and I do read each passage completely as needed. But I could definitely do better with time management and comprehension so I have a list of goals I'll try to do my best with in order to improve.

1. I will become a better skimmer.
I know for a fact that by reading the topic sentences and intro/conclusion to many works I will be able to better gauge the main idea or argument of a work before indulging completely. That way I can have an idea in my head instead of trying to formulate one as I read.

2. Look up words I don't know.
I have always thought it is a waste of time. I have always thought that I can understand what a new word means solely based on the context around it. I've paid the price for that though because in essays I have tried to reproduce that word in my own writing and have discovered that it doesn't mean exactly or at all what I thought it did.

3. Summarize the main idea or theme of each reading.
Much of the time I convince myself that I understood something just because I got through it. But I know that by formulating a concrete sentence about the main idea of a work, I will better remember its argument in preparation for tests or essays in the future.

4. Prejudice.
Ok, not negatively like the connotation, but I need to better predict what I will read and judge the work as I go with the information already in my mind. Then I can better connect what I know with what I learn.

I'll probably incorporate these one by one but I hope that they speed up and improve my effectiveness as a reader here at BYU.

4. Looking Back

Having just finished writing my rhetorical analysis, I have the chance to look back on what I did and how I will improve moving forward. I analyzed the inaugural address of JFK because I was interested to compare its merit and values with the inaugural address of President Trump just last month. Although I focused mostly on the rhetoric that Kennedy used, I was also able to find parallels to the way President Trump delivered his speech in Washington as well. I spoke of Kennedy's inclusion of historical appeals, figurative language and juxtapositions in attempt to unit the nation before him in the early 1960s. After writing a draft of my ideas and observations, I met with my professor and received great feedback on how to improve my paper that helped me for papers in other classes and will help me continue to improve. I followed the rhetorical analysis formula very well and made convincing topic sentences, concrete details, and commentary throughout my paper. My goal in writing is always to utilize rhetorical skills I have and observe through reading, and in this paper I feel like I did that as well. I went to the writing center as campus to have my paper evaluated and I learned great things there to help enhance my paper and clarify my ideas. Often I have the hardest time with being clear in my writing because everything already makes sense in my head. I've noticed as well that in reviewing and editing my paper, I usually need a second pair of eyes to pick up on small things, mostly in part because I learned the Dutch language serving my mission, and prepositions between Dutch and English sound the same but mean different things in different contexts. So that causes some disconnect sometimes. But overall, I feel like I really answered the ends of the assignment and have learned much in going forward. For my research paper, I want to show a more personal connection to my subject than in this paper. I already have ideas on how to do that by using personal family history stories to appeal to my audience as I research the emotional and logistical struggles of immigration from persecution.

3. Why Not

Soon enough, revelation and blessings poured upon me. Two initial opportunities came to me, one of which hired me 2 days later. My soul was at peace for the weekend and following week. I felt content. Burdened still, maybe, but content. Trusting. Hopeful. The second opportunity came in the form of a future asset, and a third was introduced to bring me experience for my major. A spiritual experience spurred me to apply for a church job. My current employer seems to have had a change of heart, and I may be able to stay for at least a few more months. Again, I asked why. Why did this happen if not much changed at the end of the week? Why did I go through stress and extended effort to end up with what I already had? Why? Turns out the better question I should have been asking was: why not? Why not force me to expand my horizons that I was blinded to? Why not test my faith and trust in the Lord and rely on His counsel? Why not refine me through trial while blessing me in abundance through a better understanding of my worth as an employee? Why not be a counselor for youth in the church who may need my very testimony to start theirs? Why not pray for more experiences like these, to edify and refine myself to the very disciple the Lord needs me to be?

2. Why

This past week has taught me an incredible lesson. Last weekend I was faced with an unexpected decision to make about keeping my job I've had for years or needing to venture out and find a new one. The thought made me sick to my stomach and was an interruption to my studies and social life that I really really didn't want to have to deal with. I was bitter. I was disappointed. I really wanted to shake my fist at heaven. But at that crossroad of doing so I decided to step back and try to gain anything I could from the situation. I thought, how is there anything to gain? I may be losing my job. Then it hit me. I never planned on leaving Nike. I hadn't thought that far. Why would I need to be leaving? Why is God aligning my fate this way at this moment? Why?

1. The Power of Impulsivity

At some point in every man's life, he wonders if he is truly living up to his potential. This leads to many spur-of-the-moment decisions, most common in the form of a mid-life crisis. As with almost every thing, there is a level of moderation to be taken with impulse. Playing it too safe won't satisfy your hunger for risk and playing too risky won't secure your safety. Now try to relate this to changing the sphere within your family. Is your family atmosphere a cookie-cutter structure that society has crafted and you've created? Or is it unconventional and unique like the name it bears? What sets you apart from the neighbors next door? Maybe it's time you corral that impulse for new toys or looks into a refurbished idea of family. The stories we tell and memories we share bind us together, as the article by Bruce Feiler states, and each is able to thrive on impulse and security together as time ages its name and reputation.