“What are you doing?” the message read.
Within fifteen minutes my friend had picked me up, and within an hour we were at a temple south of here. It was a beautiful night, but dark (1 am can do that to you) and as we drove back I could just barely make out the Wasatch front lining us on the right.
“The mountains are so pretty,” I said, like everyone says. They’re what friends from Utah missed most during our mission in Virginia. But I don’t love the mountains because of their beauty; I love them because of what they represent: fortitude and strength and resilience and thousands of years of growth. They’re a visual reminder from God of, Look, it’s okay, I’ve got you. Living in this valley is bit like being cradled in the hand of God.
I feel this is true because I always feel a bit like a baby. The more I know, the more I need. And all around me are these people who help me. I didn’t know them three years ago or even 9 months ago but they feel like angels sent from God.
Maybe that’s part of why I came here in the first place.