Y’know, the other day I was walking through Fred Meyers with Sandy, and came upon a book with a rather goofy looking man with both thumbs pointing in opposite directions on the cover. It was a book by Yogi Berra, who exclaimed, “If you come to a fork in the road, take it!” (Actually, Yogi once said that he never said half the things he said). But this book reminded me of when I was 22 years old. I was definitely at a crux of life. I was about to graduate from the University of Maryland and then I was set to travel to San Diego State to continue my education so that I could become a teacher.

However, several months before graduation, I came in contact with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints through a friend. I was impressed by the way many of these members lived their lives. I thought at the time that that was a nice religion for them, and I could go along with my nice religion too, and everything would be just hunky dory. But pretty soon, I found that my interest had developed from a curiosity about how other people lived into a desire to know for myself if it was how I was supposed to live. But there was a small problem in that my parents were in Belgium for a five-year assignment for my dad’s work (he was involved in designing the Airbus). They were very strong in their church and in their beliefs, and I did not want to appear that I was rejecting them. It was something of a dilemma.

It was about this time, in April of 1988, that the missionaries invited me to pray with them, and ask if I should be baptized two weeks from that date. I said, “Sure,” not knowing what to expect, but very much needing an answer. We all knelt down in that living room of the friend who had originally introduced me to the church, and I asked in prayer if I should really be baptized on April 24^th. What I received back was very much an answer. It left no doubt, and in that way was very comforting to me, in that I knew things would be all right with my family as the Lord would not lead me astray. I did not have a deep knowledge of the doctrines of the church at that time, all I knew was that indeed the Lord had answered my prayer, and that was enough.

I was baptized April 24^th. I decided to forsake my plans for San Diego State and attend Brigham Young University. I did not want to lose what I had gained, and I thought surrounding myself with Saints my own age might help me stay on the right track. A few weeks after my baptism, in May, I received my bachelor’s degree. I was graduated, and also now all of a sudden I was homeless. With my parents 4,000 miles away, I had been living in student housing all this time. University policy deemed that I was to leave no later than noon on Saturday, and it was 12:30 and I was still cleaning my room. It can be historically documented that of the 35,000 students attending the University of Maryland that semester, I was the very last student to leave campus on that rainy afternoon. My next stop was 2,000 miles away.

The family that had introduced the gospel to me recommended that on my cross-country drive I visit a few places called Kirtland, Ohio; Nauvoo, Illinois; and Florence, Nebraska. I had never driven more than fifty miles at one time successfully before, and here I was about to embark on a massive journey into unknown lands to gather with the Saints. I packed all my belongings into my Subaru, and I thought of those famous Mormon pioneers of many years before. I kept a journal of this journey, and what I discovered on my trip was the magnificent story of the history of the early church as I visited these sites. I saw a Kirtland Temple, built with tremendous sacrifice and architectural beauty. In Missouri I saw areas of beautiful farmland, which have a further significance that the locals may not even be aware of. I visited a bustling Nauvoo, with its evidence of industry. I stopped by the touching unmarked graves on the plains of Nebraska, which testified of the sacrifice and faith of those who lay there and those who continued on the journey to a barren desert. Finally, I made it to Utah, and the Great Salt Lake valley. This was a place that only a prophet could love when the Saints arrived that summer in 1847. But it was the right place, and soon the desert blossomed as a rose.

Since that time I have had other occasions to drive across the country, and have included a church history tour with these drives as much as possible. I’ve visited the birthplace of the Prophet Joseph Smith in Sharon, Vermont, the site of the First Vision, in Palmyra, New York, and the birthplaces of other church leaders in Connecticut and Vermont. Liberty and Carthage Jails, Harmony, Pennsylvania, and the Platte River have some very nice visitor’s centers and roadside plaques. There are some books that have been remarkably helpful, and I’ve been able to visit some of the more obscure places as well.

Why have I done this? Why would I turn a 3,000-mile-drive into a 10,000-mile- drive? Well, as many of you who have been to these places know, there is a spirit about these places that echoes what happened there 170 years ago. Visiting these places has given me a deeper understanding of what was going on as most of the Doctrine and Covenants were being written. I am so thankful that the Church has gone to great effort to sustain these historic areas, as visiting them is a blessing to today’s Saints.

The longest chapter in the Book of Mormon is Jacob 5. It is an extended allegory about a master of a vineyard, who continually grafts together a variety of trees for the good of his beloved olive tree. Without this grafting process, the tree would wither away and die. The grafting keeps this tree healthy and resistant to disease.

On average, about 800 people a day are baptized into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. That is about two new wards per day. This amazing influx of people represents the grafting process that was spoken of by Jacob 2,500 years ago. People who are new in the church are continually learning from those more experienced, and those who have been in the church throughout their lives are continually refreshed by those who have newly grasped onto the iron rod. This has led to an amazing stability, yet also vibrancy, of the Lord’s living church.

This is a church of pioneers. Its heritage is of those who have boldly stepped forward and exercised their faith. I find it interesting that one third of all present day Church members have been in the Church for a shorter time than I have, and over one half of all current Church members have no personal or familial connection with pre-twentieth century Utah. Yet we do feel a connection with them. We are thankful for their examples of provident living, about sacrificing for the building up of Zion, and about creating beauty and peace wherever we live. Additionally, the story of the pioneers is not just the story of people coming to live in Utah. It is also the story of the gospel and the growth of the kingdom of God here on the earth. In a very Christ-like way, and hearkening back to Jacob 5, we also feel adopted and a part of the pioneers’ heritage.

I am thankful not only for the pioneers who established the church in Utah, but also for the Saints who established the Church in Corvallis, Oregon. I am grateful that I have been able to meet many of them, and I have learned from their examples.

I am grateful for the Atonement of our Savior. His atonement is the foundation of all that we do. It is the reason why we can call ourselves brothers and sisters. It is the foundation of missionary work, temple work, and our own coming to church. Without the atonement, these things might be nice activities, but basically wastes of time. With the atonement, these are the supreme mortal experiences. Those who have partaken of the atonement are under obligation to bear faithful testimony of the Lord and Savior. Any time we experience the blessings of the Atonement, we cannot help but have a concern for the welfare of others.

The day after tomorrow is July 24^th. It will be the 154^th anniversary of the arrival of the Saints to the Great Salt Lake Valley. It was reported that upon reaching the crest of the pass, Brigham Young, himself feeling the effects of mountain fever, tapped his cane and said, “This is the right place.” As I have a chance to see all of you and feel of the spirit that has been at this meeting, I testify that this is indeed the right place, for all of us.