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After reading Jamee's post and Olivia's wish that they could live there forever, I was struck with such sadness.

We have been wanderers all our adult lives from sea to shining sea. We have live in, I can remember them all and can count them, two places in Provo, Utah, three places in Arvada, Colorado, one in Pueblo, Colorado, two places in Greeley, Colorado, three places in Norman, Oklahoma, two places in Lacey, Washington, one in Midvale, Utah, and one in Morristown, Tennessee. We have now live in Tennessee longer than we lived anywhere else, including growing up in Colorado. Cindy lived in Arizona, Kentucky, Colorado, Utah, Washington, Oklahoma, and New Jersey and Tennessee, if I have not missed any. I have lived in California, Colorado, Oklahoma, Washington, Utah, Tennessee, and Sweden, if I have not missed any. Our kids have lived coast to coast and had to make new friends every time we moved. One time Jamee expressed her sadness at having to move so much. All I could do was understand and be sorry about it and tell her that in the end, she would understand how hard it would be for a new person to move into her life and that she would be able to make friends more easily as a result.

Turns out that Stevie and Loni had a harder time with moving around than Jamee did, I think.

Now we are faced with WANTING to move. And we just can't. We try. We apply for open positions for which I am not only qualified but eminently so. And I get interviewed. And I take second place every time.

I read Abraham, one of my favorite prophets, if not my very favorite. In his first verse he says he found it needful to obtain another place of residence. So do I.

But I seem to be butting my head against the wall. I have consistently pleaded my case to God and he has seemingly persisted in ignoring me for some reason. I don't understand. The timing is wrong? The places are wrong? What?

In the next three verses of Abraham 1, he talks about his desire to obtain the blessings of the father and the priesthood. I do, too.

Last night, I just told the Lord that I had my application into a place now, and will one more come January or so, and then I'm done. I will just camp out here in Morristown of the Chaldees. I told him that he would have to hit me over the head with a hammer to get me to apply for another transfer. Some place he really really wants me to go. I'm going to quit doing three jobs in my office and go back to my one I'm being paid for.

Don't misunderstand: I am grateful to be working. To have a job, and one which i like, mostly. We like living here. We don't love it anymore. We will be alone on the East Coast with our children and grandchildren out West. Will I end up dying here and being buried in Talbott and my wife and children going on out West? I hope not.

But whatever the Lord wants is what is best. I know this from years of experience. But it is hard not knowing and having one stupor of thought after another thrust up before me and getting no answers.