Do you have a sacred place? Somewhere where you can go to talk with God? We call the grove behind Joseph Smith’s family’s log cabin “sacred” because of the prayer that he offered, and his vision of God the Father and His Son Jesus Christ. Temples are sacred places. Our home can be a sacred place.
Let’s go back to 1990. Sometime in early 1990, I had gone to church, something that I was not doing very regularly at all at this point in my life. My bishop, Moroni Whitaker asked to speak with me after church. He invited me to go on a mission. I was not thinking about a mission much. I felt like I wasn’t really living the way I should and my 19th birthday had come and gone and I didn’t see myself going. But his invitation got me thinking about it.
I decided that I needed to clear my head. I left Salt Lake City in my 1970 Chevy Pickup. I needed to get away. I needed to find myself. I drove south and kept looking eastward to the mountains. I knew Salt Lake fairly well, but Utah County was unexplored territory for me. I decided to take a little exit in Springville and headed east. I drove for quite some time and the road led me to the mouth of Hobble Creek Canyon. There were no people around, and it was the solitude that I was looking for.
Hobble Creek Canyon is like no other place I had been. The mountains surround this canyon which is painted with light and dark green colors from evergreens, maple, and quaking aspen trees. If you go there in the fall, the leaves on the maple trees turn red and the leaves of the quaking aspens turn yellow. Together with the green from the pine trees, it is breathtaking. It’s a place to go to think, to ponder life, and search your soul. And back in 1990, it was not crowded.
I kept driving up the canyon. I started seeing ranches with horses. I thought of how nice it would be to live away from the city. Then I came to an open gate where the paved road ended. I ventured forward on the dirt road, now really feeling like I was leaving civilization behind. The surroundings were beautiful. Hobble Creek runs through the canyon and many trees grow close to the creek. The road runs adjacent to the creek and it is heavily wooded. Trees on either side arch over the road making a natural tunnel of leaves and branches. The road became more difficult to drive, but I was able to continue in my truck. With the deep holes and rocks, most cars would not be able to continue which meant that there was less chance of there being people where I was headed. The river had even washed part of the road away at one point. I had the radio off. It was uncharacteristic for me. I was simply listening to the hum of my engine and the squeaks of my truck, along with the sound of the water running down the creek and the wind blowing through the aspen leaves.
I eventually came to a fork in the road. I had recently read Scott Peck’s “The Road Less traveled and decided to take the road which clearly was less traveled. The grass was growing up the two parallel tire paths, but it was obviously a road. The unused road led to the top of a hill where the road ended. I parked my truck, stepped out into the long green grass, and was inspired by the view.
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