Hiking, and a personal revelation.

Saturday brought allergies, sweat, aching muscles and holes in clothes. Further explanation? Happy to.

Bright and early found us in Provo, hiking Y mountain. Holy guacamole, hiking to the Y is no piece of cake. (Did you like the two food references?) None the less, I persevered, downing my water by the 4th switchback and thinking how much altitude vs. sea level sucks.

Mid-hike view of Provo

My wheezing stopped (well, lets be fair, it slowed down) when we reached the large concrete Y. The view was absolutely breathtaking. I felt like I was standing on top of the world. (Did you know the Y is 380 feet high, making it larger than the Hollywood Sign in California?)

Trivia brought to you free.

Sitting in the middle of the Y

After trekking back down the mountain we drove to the Provo Temple for picture taking purposes. See all the pink roses? I can't even begin to describe how sweet the air smelled.

And ok, I know the Salt Lake Temple is every one's crème brûlée, but I happen to think the Provo Temple is the prettiest one I have seen. Salt Lake? Surrounded by buildings. Manti? Middle of nowhere. Provo? Mountains, my friends.

Our next adventure (are you tired yet?) led us to Bridal Veil Falls nestled in the Provo Canyon. There was a nice paved trail to the very bottom of the falls. To get to the falls themselves was a different story.

My acrylic nails helped me scratch myself up all of those rocks to the very top. My pants were wet, Nike's drenched. I didn't care though. I just plopped down on a rock, let the waterfall mist me with fresh water, and snapped a ton of pictures.

Pants after all the hiking. Tore hole in butt. Not picture worthy.

Manti Temple at night

For added fatigue, we drove a near two hours for the Mormon Miracle Pageant in Manti. If you're Mormon, this is like, a right of passage. It's a big deal.

I'm talking about thousands of people gathered to watch the finding of the Book of Mormon, Joseph Smith's death, Brigham Young leading the Mormons to Utah, and so on.

Back to the story. We arrived really early to gurantee one of the 14,000 seats available and then walked the streets of downtown Manti. We ate dinner at a local diner and then splurged on chocolate covered strawberries.

There were Christian picketers there with a cross, passing out information of our/my Jesus vs. Mormon Jesus. I had never been around controversy like it. They weren't rude, demanding, ignorant or mean in any way. But you could certainly feel the tension.

And then I thought, would I be with the picketers? Is that the right approach? Do I belong at a Mormon pageant, being not of that particular faith?

Alas, I sat in my chair and watched the play. It was interesting. It was good. The picketers left and I had a personal revelation. I am not Mormon. I am not Church of Christ. I won't label my faith.

I am a follower of Jesus Christ. A lover of God. Someone who feels the Holy Spirit deep in my soul.

And that, my friends, was Saturday.