He Will Lift Your Pack  My father taught me a great lesson about
the Savior without saying a word.  My dad and I started early,
loading the woodcutting equipment into the truck well before
sunrise and pulling out of the driveway just as the stars began
to fade. As we snacked on toast and fruit drinks, we sang Scout
songs and laughed at silly things I had done as a child. But as
the first rays of sunlight splashed across the pristine Arizona
sky, our talk turned to my mission—just two weeks away—and to
the realization that this would be our last chance to spend time
together like this for two years.  The sun left the horizon as
we pulled off the main road and ascended into aspens and pines.
An hour later we reached our destination: a small clearing at
the top of a cliff overlooking a valley camouflaged in the
yellows, reds, and greens of fall.  As I climbed out of the
truck and peered over the cliff, my thoughts turned to my
mission. Would I see such sights there? Would anything be
similar so far from home? Th