Haleakala Volcano towers some 10,000 feet above the blue Pacific Ocean on the Hawaiian island of Maui. The mountain is rugged and foreboding. But thanks to the modern automobile — and a well-engineered, paved road — a visitor, in less than a couple of hours, can climb from sea level to summit.

The air at Haleakala's summit is thin, sporting much less oxygen than that breathed on the sandy beaches below. And the summit does not lure would-be hikers with tropical waterfalls and lush vegetation. Rather, the landscape is moonscape rocky and the vistas are most often shrouded. If ever one wanted to see the inside of a cloud, this is the place.

So for many, perhaps most, of those driving, the summit is also the end of line. They arrive. They look. They leave.

But Valerie, a middle-age woman who for five years has struggled with poorly-functioning lungs, wanted to see if her years-long work on the treadmill — and even more years of generous blessings from a kind Heavenly Father — would allow her to do more than just look from the observation point. Could she, Valerie wondered, actually explore the area via a five-plus-mile trek?

By advancing one step at time, being wise and, perhaps, with a little help from her also-hiking husband, Valerie believed she could. So she tried.

That relatively short trek through these mountains was an apt symbol of our relatively short trek through mortality.

The trail started at the summit. From that 10,000-foot beginning, it descended some 1,400 vertical feet over more than two-and-one-half miles of well-marked but rugged trail. Each downhill step, Valerie knew, eventually meant a return — and uphill — step. Gravity made the downhill steps much easier — and much less stressful to Valerie's lungs. And while the anticipation of what lay ahead kept the trekkers trekking, the vista-obscuring clouds left them to only wonder what lay beyond.

Valerie pressed forward — step by faithful step. Eventually, she reached the trail's end.

But the trail's end was, for Valerie, really the beginning. The relatively easy downhill steps must now be retraced — uphill.

One of mortality's greatest gifts — and one of God's tender mercies to His children — is what, and how, this temporal existence teaches us about things eternal. All mortals face varying trials. For Valerie, today's trial was a life-testing — but not-life-threatening — mountain journey.

To succeed she needed to do the right things. She talked to those who had gone before. She stayed to the prescribed path. She rested as required. And, most important, she pressed forward in faith — step after step — having hope that she would once again reach the summit.

Her hope, thankfully, was rooted not just in her knowledge that the summit was actually there, but in her faith — faith in her own God-given ability to keep trying and, more important, in God Himself who she knew would not abandon her. Her strength, she knew, came from God. As long as she pressed forward, doing her part, she would receive His blessed help.

She set no world speed record. She set no world distance record. But she did record a "personal best." She made it back to the summit — step by faithful step.

With the summit in Valerie's sight, the once-enveloping clouds, as if to say "well done," began to clear — revealing a bold blue sky brightened by the late afternoon sun. The vistas, which had been earlier obscured, opened, showing majestic jagged peaks, dramatic shadows and a grandeur that only God Himself could have created.

The temporal reward was, literally, a sight to behold — a sight that Valerie would have never beheld if, hours earlier, she, like most observers, had left the shrouded summit and driven back to the beaches below.

And as grand as the view was, it was easily eclipsed by the spiritual reward — a sure reaffirmation that God has so lovingly revealed the purpose of mortal life and that God does lovingly — step by step — help us through this life we call mortality.

In an address in the April 2009 general conference, President Thomas S. Monson said, "None of us makes it through this life without problems and challenges — and sometimes tragedies and misfortunes. After all, in large part we are here to learn and grow from such events in our lives. We know that there are times when we will suffer, when we will grieve, and when we will be saddened. However, we are told, 'Adam fell that men might be; and men are, that they might have joy.'"