High on the Mountain Top

means it's the Saturday before class starts, freshman year. The bishop has declared that the ward is hiking to the Y, and so we are climbing up a mountain in the near-dark of early morning.



I straggle behind, and if it weren't for the bishop and second counselor hanging back with me I would be the last in line. I miss Mississippi air with its moisture and sweet, sweet oxygen. I've only been in Utah a week, and I can't get used to the feeling of taking deep, desperate gasps of air without really breathing.

As soon as I reach the Y I lie down and close my eyes, waiting for the world to swim back into place. I'm still recovering when the others start to sing. After a few minutes lying on the rock the pain in my chest and sides subside and I'm able to sit up, join the hymns, and watch the sun rise over the mountains on the other side of the valley.

From here you can see the clear demarcation between dark and light. We watch the golden-red line of the sun move over the lake, then the city, then hit the tallest buildings on campus. I have missed the vibrant, pressing greenery of home, felt surrounded by brown. Now, for the first time, I see Utah as beautiful.

High on the mountaintop a banner is unfurled. Ye nations now look up; it waves to all the world.- "High on the Mountain Top"