Virtute.org

This weekend I’ll be driving to Knoxville, Tennessee.  I’ll be starting a new job, finding a new home, and making a new start. 

I have mixed feelings about this change.  I’m a Utah boy; I’ve sweated my way to the tops of the mountains, raced up and down the canyons, listened to the wind blowing over the deserts, and knelt in the temples.  I’ve raged at the lingering winters and rejoiced in the lingering autumns.  I sat on a hill in the first green of spring and watched rainstorms blow across the lake.  In summer, I’ve baked happily in the dry furnace heat.

Utah was the base for my adventures.  I’ve taken the roads in all directions.  In old station wagons I’ve spiraled out to all the great Western cities and down the whole length of the Pacific coast.  I’ve seen the Sangre de Cristo mountains and driven up Going-to-the-Sun Road.  All these wonders are only a hard day’s drive from the cradle.

I can’t count the times I’ve come home over one of the passes to the sea of warm lights nestled in the valley by the lake.  Every wanderer loves the trail home.

I tried once before to start fresh in a new place.  After Superdell fired me, I went to Ohio and tried to sell computers.  After six miserable months, I came home in worse shape than before.  This time, I’m going on my own terms.  I have a job at a good company.  I have skills and experience.

My ancestors gathered to Utah to build Zion.  From this cradle of strength, maybe it’s only fitting we go back out to bring Zion to the rest of the world.