Gospel Story Finder

At the end of 2020, a conversation with a longstanding sister of the Hyde Ward, Manchester Stake, brought a local women’s refuge to the attention of the ward’s Relief Society. The conversation highlighted the need for support of women fleeing domestic violence, particularly during times of the COVID-19 pandemic.
This sister had once accessed the refuge as a place of safety, and a place she could receive the best advice for moving forward, following a crisis in her marriage.
The Hyde Ward Relief Society made the decision to focus its service for 2021 on this often-hidden cause, and local women’s refuge, Ruffley House, were excited to receive the support.
In discussion with the refuge’s manager, it was jointly decided the support could be offered in the following ways:
Collecting new and used bedding sets
Collecting new and used towels
Making tote toiletry bags for women on their arrival at the refuge
Making drawstring toiletry bags for children
Collecting toiletry and personal care items, over the course of the year, to fill the bags.
Unfortunately, these efforts coincided with the national COVID-19 lockdown, but individuals and wards continued to set aside their donations in preparation for two collection days in March 2021.
In the meantime, monetary donations were made by individuals from the ward and stake, amounting to £1,000, which enabled the purchase of three Samsung tablets (for use by women and staff to make housing and benefit applications) and a garden shed.
The final donations of bedding and towels were astounding. Three large carloads were delivered and received by the staff of Ruffley House. They were thrilled to be able to replenish their own stocks of these precious items and share them with outreach teams supporting struggling families in the local area.
The toiletry-bag section of the project continued throughout 2021 in the Hyde Ward, the sewing team making 123 beautifully crafted bags and members collecting a selection of items each month for a final bag-packing night in January 2022.
The Relief Society president, Ruth Holt, commented: “We have, and continue to enjoy, the opportunity to serve; it has given us an opportunity to think of others when it would otherwise be easy to dwell on our own difficulties.”
The manager of Ruffley House was effusive in her thanks: “I would like to say a huge thank you to yourself and all the amazing people who have put all their love and time into making up all the donations of the bedding, towels, and toiletries throughout the year, the many drop-offs you did and the money raised to buy the wish-list items that we asked for. It is people like yourselves who recognise that others need support; the difference this makes for individuals is always visible for us to see.”
For 2022, Hyde’s Relief Society have moved on to its next project, working with a local charity called Cascade that provides support for children and families in need of the basics of life.

As we grow, everything we learn can be used by the Lord to bless someone, somewhere.
As a Scout I learned Morse code. Years later, while I was on my mission, an investigator came into sacrament meeting, and I felt inspired to write him a short note in Morse code which said something like, “Welcome to sacrament meeting. Happy to see you here!”
It turned out he was a radio operator, and it was a great delight to him to have somebody write him a note in Morse code. Imagine how happy I was when this investigator, with a big smile, said, “I’m so glad that you wrote me this message in Morse code!” I was amazed that something I had learned years earlier could help me on my mission to reach a certain individual in a particular way.
As we are open to new things and to learning in our lives, the Lord knows what we have learned and can use us to bless others. Morse code is a specific example, but if we are willing, the Lord can use us as instruments to bless the lives of others and bring joy to their lives and our own.

Tomorrow we celebrate the pioneers entering the Salt Lake Valley on the 24th of July, 1847. Many us have ancestors who made that historic trek to the west. My own fourth great Grandfather Cheney came into the valley with a company of Saints, but some of my ancestors stayed behind in Nauvoo. My 5th Great Grandfather was Ezekial Johnson of Nauvoo, Illinois. He and his wife, Julia Hills Johnson, had sixteen children and learned about the church shortly after it was founded. Julia and the children joined the church while Ezekial was away. He was greatly offended so he hardened his heart and remained a nonmember while his family became actively involved in the church. When Joseph Smith was martyred, Ezekial's heart began to soften. As the saints departed Nauvoo, Ezekial and his two sons remained behind to guard the Nauvoo Temple, under direction of Brigham Young. Ezekial saw the injustice of the mobs and decided it was time to join the church. But before he had an opportunity to act on his desire, Ezekial's life took a sudden turn.
During a time there was intense Latter Day Saint persecution. One night Ezekial was guarding the temple, and was all alone. He had only a rifle for protection when he saw a mob coming down the street, determined to burn the temple. He thought quickly, and as they made their way closer, Ezekial stopped them, warning that if they took one step further, he would signal an entire militia of Mormons to attack them. The mob retreated, and again came back, this time using a different route. Again, they met Ezekial standing in their path and again they backed down. Two weeks later after the mob had learned of his bluff, they caught hold of Ezekial and beat him so severely that he was bedridden and eventually died. Though he was never baptized in this life, Brigham Young said upon learning of his death that Ezekial would one day stand at the head of his large and growing posterity. Ezekial's son, my fourth great grandfather wrote the Hymn, High on the Mountain Top" after arriving in Salt Lake and seeing an ensign on the mountain above the city. Other sons settled colonies throughout southern Utah including Santaquinn and St. George just to name a few. Ezekial's heart was softened and he committed himself to submitting to the will of the Lord, giving his life in the process. God has done much more for the posterity of my Great Grandfathers than they ever could have done for themselves.

Each Tuesday, following devotional, I have the opportunity to gather with student leaders in our area for disciple leadership trainings. At one of these gatherings earlier this semester, I received an impression that I felt needed to be shared with the group. At that time we were wrestling with a shortage of volunteers in our Student Ambassador program. We only had 50 volunteers and needed 200 in a very short amount of time. At the end of the meeting I invited those present to do two things: First, pray daily to find individuals they could invite to participate in this program, and second, pray and ask Heavenly Father to bless others with the desire to serve and lead them to us. The next two weeks were filled with inspiring experiences for our students as they invited others one-by-one to act, or had the experience of others coming up to them and asking them how they could get involved. Our invitations and prayers were answered and our volunteer needs were met.

I joined the Church in England in 1965, but the hostile reaction of my father and other pressures eventually led me to become less active.
Those were painful and unhappy times. On the outside it seemed easy to stay away, and I suppose I started to break the Word of Wisdom to fool myself that I didn’t care. Eventually I convinced myself Heavenly Father no longer loved or cared about me, and I felt completely rejected and alone.
Members still visited me occasionally, but it didn’t help. I both resented and envied them.
Then one evening a pair of senior sister missionaries dropped by. I was determined to give them a hard time so they wouldn’t make a return visit, but something inside me warmed to them. They had come as friends, not to preach to me or make me feel guilty.
They returned again and again to work in my garden and to strip paint from an old chest and help restore it—but above all to be friends to me. I began to be able to feel the Savior’s love through them as they filled my home with their obvious joy in living the gospel. They gained my trust, something that was so difficult for me to give.
All too soon their missions came to an end and they returned home. I later visited them in the United States. Rebellion against the Church was still within my heart, however, so I would not attend any Church meetings during the trip. In fact, I took great delight in drinking coffee in front of my two friends, trying hard to show them I was “untouchable.” I soon found out I was far from untouchable.
On the Saturday before Easter, we visited a memorial park in Glendale, California, and were deeply moved by the paintings and other art having to do with the Savior. It seemed that the Atonement was suddenly becoming real to me. A week later I was in southern Utah on the Sunday of general conference. During a moment alone, I switched on the television to a talk given by President Thomas S. Monson, First Counselor in the First Presidency. As I listened to that great man, I could not contain the tears of guilt and shame.
That afternoon I climbed to one of the observation points in the national park I was visiting. As I walked, I tried to put my life into perspective. I found that the climb, which was very difficult and strenuous in places, was comparable to the trials in my life. Because I pressed on and reached the end of the climb, I could look down at the beauty of creation and feel exhilaration.
The spirit of rebellion was not completely gone from my heart, but I was starting to feel the hostility melting away. I began to experience feelings of love—new, beautiful, and strange to me. I also began to learn that I could be loved. I knew I needed to change my life, to truly repent.
When I returned home I felt much different inside. I was beginning to feel hope and was learning to pray for guidance and forgiveness. True repentance didn’t take place overnight; it took many months before I felt I had been forgiven. I made a decision to start attending church again, the most difficult part of which was finding the courage to actually walk to the doors and go in.
I become overwhelmed as I think of the meaning of the Savior’s Atonement: “Oh, it is wonderful that he should care for me enough to die for me!” (“I Stand All Amazed,” Hymns, number 193). It is also wonderful that two sister missionaries came into my life when they did and shared with me their love and example. I was filled with joy to have one of them be my escort when I finally attended the temple to receive my endowment.
Following years of wandering, I had come home at last.

In 1959, I turned 8 and wanted to be baptised, but my father would not give his permission. I continued to attend Primary with all my Church friends, then at age 12 I started to attend MIA (which stood for Mutual Improvement Association) as it was then called. My friends obtained the Aaronic Priesthood and progressed from deacon to teacher to priest.
In those days, we met in a big house, and as members we were asked to raise money towards the building of a meetinghouse, and to also to work so many hours on the construction of the meetinghouse. Once I turned 15 and about to leave school, I decided to go on a building mission on the Worcester meetinghouse, as a site had been found. My parents were divorced by that point, and my mother kept me and gave me ten shillings a week pocket money. Whilst building the meetinghouse, I turned 16 and my father told me, “If you still want to join those Mormons go ahead.”
I told our then-branch president, President Smart, that my father had given permission for me to be baptised but that I had decided that as “I’ve waited this long, I’ll wait a little longer if I can be the first to be baptised in the new chapel.”
On March 10, 1968, the chapel was dedicated by President Cullimore. On the following day, Monday 11 March, I was the first person to be baptised in the Worcester meetinghouse, by Brother Ken Chapman. Followed by four others also getting baptised, I was then confirmed a member of the Church by Brother Des Gorman, who was the building supervisor in charge of the construction.

I grew up in a small town and participated in a 4-H club that each year required me to purchase a lamb or a calf to raise. I had to maintain a workbook to keep track of what I paid for feed, veterinarian bills, and anything else I needed. The most memorable lamb I had was when I was nine. I bought a Southdown-cross lamb from a farmer and took good care of it. My dad helped me, and the county agent met with members of the club periodically to sign off in our workbooks. I learned how to raise and show that lamb, including shearing it so it would look its best.
I ended up taking it to The Dalles, Oregon, livestock show, and I won the grand-champion prize. The lamb weighed 92 pounds, and I received $2.50 per pound for my efforts. For a nine-year-old, that was a lot of money. And because of the records I had kept, I knew how much I earned after costs. For me, that was good training. For the last 20 years, I have been self-employed. I’ve paid my tithing on the same basis I learned when I was nine.

After we moved our things from the dugout, Ed said, “Now I get to sleep in the barn.”
“Me, too,” I said.
“Nothing doing,” Mama warned. “The barn’s for animals, not children.”
“Papa promised,” Ed told her.
“It’s all right, hon,” Papa told Mama. “The loft’s clean and warm and close enough so that we could hear them call if they needed us.”
“Well, it is pretty crowded in here,” Mama relented a little. “Just one room for the seven of us.”
“Please, mama,” Ed coaxed.
“Please,” I echoed.
“I guess it won’t hurt to try it,” she conceded, and we started out the door.
Frank grabbed my legs and shouted, “I wanna sleep with Dora! I wanna sleep with Dora!”
“Let him come, Mama. I’ll take care of him.” She knew I would too.
“Watch him, then, so he doesn’t fall down the ladder,” she cautioned.
“I don’t fall down ladders.” Frank said indignantly. “I climb down.”
So the three of us moved into the barn.

Monica May wasn’t exactly active in the Church during high school, but the summer before she went to college she decided to make church a regular part of her life. She missed the gospel.
Once at college she wasn’t perfect with her goal, but by the end of her first semester, she looked forward to church as well as her institute class.
Monica had always known the gospel principles. But “I didn’t see the importance of them until I came to institute,” she says. “It’s really opened my eyes. My testimony has grown, and institute has increased my desire to work at living the gospel.”
It was during this realization that Monica’s blossoming testimony was put to the test. It seemed she had found the perfect man. He was a handsome engineering student; he wanted to marry her; her parents thought he was great. But there was one major drawback—he was not a member of the Church.
During this same time, Monica had also developed a strong friendship with Chad May, who had returned from his mission in Taiwan and seemed quite serious about her.
Confused about what she should do, Monica turned to prayer and what she was learning in institute for answers.
One evening, the answer finally came. After watching part of a rec league basketball game Chad was playing in, Monica slipped out of the gym to go on a date with the other guy. But on the way, she says, “I got this terrible feeling in my stomach. I’d had this kind of prompting before, not acted on it, and regretted it. So this time I listened.” She never dated the engineering student again. And less than a year later, Monica and Chad were married in the Dallas Temple.
“Institute provided a constant reminder of my standards,” Monica says. “Without it I wouldn’t have known which way I should be going.”

I always wanted to retire young from my job and I did that in March 2018. I am a professional agronomist, and I loved my job. After retirement, I thought the fatigue caused by my work would be improved and I would be more relaxed, as my job was very demanding. After a few months of retirement, my fatigue got worse, and I only wanted to be in bed sleeping. Following the advice of my husband, I visited a doctor who helped me learn the reason for my exhaustion.
After undergoing different tests as advised by the doctor, they found the reason for my fatigue. I had a colonoscopy, and I was diagnosed with a malignant stage 3 colon tumor. I had cancer! When I received the news, I wasn’t scared at that moment, but I did become a bit anxious. I asked the doctor, “Am I going to die?” She replied with a smile, saying she didn’t think that would happen for now, but I needed to hurry to have the tumor removed.
I underwent an operation on September 24, 2018, and had many people by my side taking care of me. A few days after the operation and being discharged, while at home, I felt a lot of fever inside me. I visited the clinic again, and after several tests, they found that during the surgery to remove the colon tumor, they had left a small hole causing the fever. I developed sepsis because no hole was supposed to remain after the operation. I had to stay in the clinic for one more week.
On the third day of being hospitalized, I felt extremely sad. I prayed to Heavenly Father and asked many questions. After finishing my prayer and shedding many tears, there was a knock on the door of my room, and to my surprise, it was the two missionaries who were attending my ward at that time. Seeing me crying, they prayed with and encouraged me. I told them about the prayer I had made and how the Lord had sent these two messengers to me.
Thanks to my Heavenly Father, I overcame the sepsis and moved on to the next stage, which, although difficult, was a true miracle. I had to undergo chemotherapy, and when I received the first treatment, I suffered another health setback. A port was inserted to administer the chemotherapy, and the doctor who placed it put it in too high, causing me to have four embolisms and two pulmonary infarctions. My oncologist couldn’t explain how I had survived the embolisms and infarctions. I told her that I believed God was keeping me alive because I still had important work to do for Him.
During my chemotherapy, which was the most painful part of my treatment, I dedicated myself fully to my calling as the Young Women president of my ward, and that helped me a lot. I also did service, which kept negative thoughts about my health from my mind. I am extremely grateful to my Heavenly Father for everything He does in my life.
During a check-up in 2019, I was found to have a tumor the size of a softball in one of my ovaries. My oncologist thought the colon cancer had metastasized to the ovary. On November 14, 2020, I underwent a hysterectomy and, thankfully, the tumor in the ovary turned out to be benign.
I have been cancer-free for six years, and I hope to enjoy good health for many more years to come. I always had Heavenly Father by my side taking care of me, and I value life more. I enjoy many hobbies with my husband and have since accomplished some big educational and career goals. I also enjoy serving in my callings.
I no longer fear death because I know without a doubt that it is part of the plan of salvation that our Heavenly Father created for His children. If you ever find yourself in a situation like mine, never lose faith. Hold strong, and you will see that miracles do exist.

Two experiences from my life—when I wasn’t sure what to do—illustrate the importance of obeying the commandments and following the living prophets. In college I ran out of money, so I found a part-time job. When I received my first check, I did not know whether it would be enough to get me through to the next paycheck. But I remembered the Lord’s promise regarding tithing: “Prove me now herewith … if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing” (Malachi 3:10).
I decided to prove the Lord. I paid my tithing first, and He blessed me to survive. In the process I learned to trust in His promises.

The author lives in Utah, USA.
Photographs by Getty Images
I had just finished breakfast when my stake president called to tell me that my mission application had been denied. My heart sank as he told me why—I needed to lose a certain amount of weight before I would be able to serve. As he explained to me what I would need to do in order to resubmit my papers, the only thing I wanted to do was climb into my bed and hide.
After the shock wore off, I called my dad at work and explained what had happened. He paused and then asked, “Well, what are you going to do?” Would I give up? Let go of my dream to serve a mission? No.
“I’m going to go for it,” I replied. “I’m going to try to lose the weight.”
Within a week, I had a solid plan of action. I learned as much as I could about nutrition and exercise and, after setting some goals, I was ready to get started. I felt so much love and support from my Heavenly Father. I knew that I was doing the right thing and that He would help me every step of the way.
As I worked hard every day, I began to see progress! It was exciting to notice the physical effects of diet and exercise, but what surprised me most was the spiritual health I was gaining. I became more confident and self-aware as I developed into the person Heavenly Father wanted me to be.
I realized that as my spiritual health increased, it actually became easier for me to improve my physical health. The sacrament was so important in helping me stay focused on my goals. It became a sacred time of reflection for me as I thought about my Savior and how much He had helped me on this journey. I knew that He would stay by my side no matter what.
Prayer also made a big difference. There were so many times when I was running on the treadmill and would just start crying because I was so tired and my lungs hurt and I just wanted to go on a mission. I would say a prayer because I knew that someone in the mission field needed me, and I knew that I needed help to get there. After every workout, I thanked Heavenly Father for giving me the strength to go on.
The gospel teaches us that our bodies and our spirits are one, but until this experience, I had never thought about how directly the health of my body could affect the health of my spirit. As I thought about my body as a temple, this connection between body and spirit began to make more sense. I knew that one reason we keep the temple so clean and beautiful is because it helps the Spirit to be there. So it makes sense that as I began to eat healthy and exercise more, I began to feel the Spirit even more.
I also noticed that I felt more energized and more willing to talk to and serve the people around me. I could feel the Spirit guide me as I put my trust in the Lord, and I discovered that I could turn to Him for help with any trial or hardship I might face.
Photograph courtesy of Jillian Pierson
After months of hard work, I finally received my mission call! I was so excited I could hardly wait. And when I entered the Missionary Training Center, I felt prepared both physically and spiritually.
I feel so blessed to have had the opportunity to learn how to take care of both my body and my spirit. Working toward a meaningful goal gave me the motivation I needed to become a better version of myself. I learned that if I rely on the Lord as I try to accomplish my goals, He will help me every step of the way.

Sometimes making a difference is as easy as saying one sentence. A couple of years ago, before the start of the girls’ basketball season, Sue said, “Let’s say a prayer.” They followed her suggestion before that first game, and it became a habit. “I always said the prayer before every game. Sometimes I would say, ‘Doesn’t someone else want to say it today?’ And a couple of times someone else would say it. Most of the time, the team would all be standing around waiting for me, yelling, ‘Sue, hurry up and pray.’” During her campaign for student-body president, Sue introduced a theme, “Seek for the highest that is in you.” As high school students will do, some started making fun of the theme. But Sue persevered, using the theme for all the activities throughout the year, and the silliness died down. The principal of Mt. Si, Scott Menard, said, “There are always those who will take something positive and try to undermine it. Sue was able to overcome that just by her good-naturedness and by not taking herself too seriously or getting defensive when people would put the theme down. She kept it through every assembly. She didn’t allow the focus to wander, and it became the accepted motto for the students that year.” One of the projects that the students at Mt. Si really had to stretch to complete was the painting of the school halls. It was a huge job. Sue and other student-body officers decided to try for it, but it was a scary undertaking. They needed more than 200 students to show up to help with each step of the project. What if they didn’t come?
Elaine Clifford, assistant principal, said, “I walked into the first meeting, and I knew right then that they were going to make it because Sue had a notebook ready to go. In it she had inspirational sayings and a time line about what needed to be accomplished. She had a calendar. She had a list of jobs that needed to be done. And she had invited all the right people. She had invited some students that she saw as leaders. She had invited someone from the maintenance staff. She got me there. She understands organizational skills.”
The big painting project was successful, but not before Sue sweated out some last-minute crises. The first day of the four-day project dawned bright and sunny. In the normal wet weather of northwestern Washington, a sunny spring day is a rarity. “Suddenly I panicked,” said Sue. “Who would want to come paint the school on a day like that? What are we trying to do?”
But people did show up—in time for the second crisis. After the walls were sanded and taped, it was time to apply the deglosser. Just as more than a hundred students were really getting into the swing of things, the custodian rushed up to Sue and showed her the label on one of the cans. The flammable deglosser was supposed to be used only in well ventilated areas. They opened every window and door, turned off the electricity to avoid sparks, and covered all the electrical outlets. In the meantime, Sue had retreated to ask for some additional help. “I whipped into the bathroom, my favorite bathroom for praying, and was down on my knees.” Everything went smoothly. The danger was avoided. And the group had a great time. It was hard work but really a lot of fun too.
After giving the school halls a new coat of pale gray paint with maroon trim, the students under Sue’s leadership took new pride in their school. Now, if anyone even thinks about marring the walls, they are warned by their peers, “Don’t try it. I painted this wall, and nobody is going to write on it.”
Then there was the talent show where, for the first time, the students who could play the piano, sing, dance, or act were highlighted. “The neatest thing,” said Sue, “was that we have these super talented people and they never get recognized like the athletes do. That was our point. People you never hear about came out and were excited to be in the show. We held a school performance and an evening performance.”
And there were other times when a sophomore boy broke up with his first girlfriend or a star athlete got kicked off the softball team for drinking. Principal Menard said Sue was there to help. “I’ve seen her take people of all grade levels, both sexes, with her arm around them when she knows they are down, just walking down the halls with them, talking to them and cheering them up. To have the student-body president come up and do that for you is a very meaningful experience to a lot of kids. I think she works so well with people on an individual basis.”
But what holds Sue together? Where does she get the strength and resolve to keep standing up and making a difference in other people’s lives? “My mom is one of my best friends,” said Sue. “After the hardest days, I can dump out everything. She has the answers. She’ll tell me things to do about school problems or boy problems. I do it, and it works. If I didn’t have her and my dad’s support, I don’t know what I would do.” Sue also gets good advice and support from her older brother and sister and younger brother.
The Church is one of Sue’s greatest sources of guidance and comfort. At youth conference, the bishop challenged all the youth to pray for confirmation that the Church was true even if they already had a testimony.
Sue accepted the challenge although she had some reservations. “I felt I didn’t need to ask because I know the Church is true. But I wanted to tell my friends about my testimony before I graduated. They sometimes tease me about being a Mormon.”
Sue did pray, but the answer didn’t seem to come in a big way. Then she and some friends had to drive to the next town to have their pictures taken for graduation. Suddenly, she was in the middle of an intense conversation about the Church with a receptive friend. The friend asked, “How do you know that it is true, Sue?”
“All of a sudden it dawned on me that Heavenly Father was giving me an opportunity to say that I do know the Church is true. Here I was bearing my testimony, telling her this is the truth. It didn’t hit me until that night that it was the answer to my prayers.
The friend then asked if she could go to church with the Keller family. Soon she was attending seminary with Sue and receiving the discussions from the missionaries. “That’s been the greatest,” Sue said. “I’ve never done that with a friend before.”
Sue Keller is just one girl, but she is one who has made a difference. Her dad, Ward Keller, tried to pin it down. “She’s extra special, and I don’t really know how she got that way.” But he really did know. In describing his daughter, he hit upon the quality that has helped her make a difference. “She’s been an example to her peers. She has held her standards and beliefs high and has lived them.”

Joseph annually went to where the plates were buried and received further instruction from Moroni. However, in the excitement and temptation of potentially finding other valuable objects in the stone box, Joseph put down the plates in violation of the command God previously gave to him. Joseph was thrown violently to the ground; when he recovered, the angel Moroni was gone, and Joseph returned to the house “weeping with grief and disappointment.”3

This incident filled the Smith family with great uneasiness that Joseph might fail to get the plates due to his own negligence. “We therefore doubled our diligence in prayer and supplication to God,” Lucy recalled, “in order that he might be more fully instructed in his duty.”4 Shortly thereafter, tragedy struck the Smith family when the oldest son, Alvin, died. His deathbed instruction to Joseph was to keep the commandments God gave him and to do everything in his power to obtain the record. Joseph in time received the plates to translate.

Yet with undaunted faith, President Woodruff requested sufficient funds from the Saints to finish the temple. Among those who sacrificed to meet that request was a young boy who had found employment on a nearby farm where, after several long hours of work, he was paid twenty-five cents. “I clutched the coin and ran home,” he recalled. He immediately sought out his father. “Pa, look what I have!” he announced. “The next time you go to Provo,” he continued, “I can get a new pair of Levis with this money.”

The father reminded his son of President Woodruff’s request. “President Wilford Woodruff needs ten cents of this quarter for the Salt Lake Temple. Here, I’ll give you fifteen cents for the coin, and we’ll go together to give the dime to our bishop, who will send it to Salt Lake City,” the father gently suggested.

With funds donated by many faithful Saints, the stonework was finished to the point that the last stone—the capstone—could be placed on the temple. Truly, constructing this temple had become a labor of faith and fierce endurance in the teeth of adversity.

It was with a sense of celebration, then, that the Saints gathered on 6 April 1892, thirty-nine years from the time the cornerstones were laid, to rejoice together in the laying of the capstone. President Woodruff, who had pounded in the marking stake forty-five years earlier, wrote impressively in his diary that it was “the greatest day the Latter-day Saints ever saw in these mountains.”

The city, already crowded for the semiannual conference, received thousands more who came for this historic event. Fifty thousand jammed the Temple Block, while thousands more watched from adjoining rooftops, windows, and even power poles. Many more thronged the streets.

Lorenzo Snow, then President of the Quorum of the Twelve, reminded the congregation that the first Hosanna Shout had been given in the heavens “when all the sons of God shouted for joy.” He exultantly urged the people, “We want every man and every woman to shout these words to the very extent of their voice, so that every house in this city may tremble, the people in every portion of this city may hear it and it may reach to the eternal worlds.”

At the climactic moment, Church Architect Joseph Don Carlos Young shouted from the top of the temple to President Woodruff, “The capstone is now ready to be laid!” The 85-year-old prophet “stepped to the front of the platform, in full sight of the assembled multitude in whose midst a solemn stillness reigned.” With uplifted hands, he exclaimed, “Attention, all ye house of Israel and all ye nations of the earth. We will now lay the top stone of the Temple of our God, the foundation of which was laid and dedicated by the Prophet, Seer and Revelator Brigham Young.” He pressed the switch, “a catch was released, and the top-most stone of the Temple fell into position.”

Then, under Elder Snow’s guidance, the Saints cried, “Hosanna! Hosanna! Hosanna! to God and the Lamb! Amen! Amen! Amen!” This heartfelt thanksgiving praise was repeated three times with increasing force as the participants waved white handkerchiefs in the air on the shouts of “Hosanna” and “Amen.”

John Lingren, a member of the Church, thrilled to the emotion of the moment. “The eyes of thousands were moistened with tears. … The ground seemed to tremble with the volume of the sound which sent forth its echoes to the surrounding hills.” Mary H. Nutting, a non-Mormon schoolteacher living in Utah, reported to friends back east that it “gave a peculiar sensation to hear the mighty shout! It made one realize very strongly that Mormonism is yet a great force, that it is by no means ‘dying out.’”

The congregation of thousands followed the clarion sound of the Tabernacle Choir in unitedly singing one of the Church’s most soul-stirring hymns, “The Spirit of God,” first sung at the dedication of the Kirtland Temple fifty-six years earlier and sung at the dedication of every temple since that time. “When the great song, ‘The Spirit of God Like A Fire is Burning’ was sung by the united audience,” wrote Charles Savage, Utah photographer and choir member, “a feeling different thrilled through me from any one I ever experienced. The hosannah shout was something long to be remembered and one I never expect to hear again during my life.”

Francis M. Lyman, a member of the Quorum of the Twelve, proposed that those present “pledge themselves, collectively and individually, to furnish, as fast as it may be needed, all the money that may be required to complete the temple at the earliest time possible, so that the dedication may take place on April 6th, 1893.” John Dean, a temple construction laborer, reported that the result was “a deafening shout of ‘ayes’ from the assembled host” as they raised their right hands.

After the capstone-laying ceremony, many remained to see the unveiling of the statue of the angel Moroni. The statue, designed by Utah-born sculptor Cyrus Dallin, was made of hammered copper covered with 22-karat gold leaf. Before nightfall, the massive figure was lowered into position on the stone ball of the 64-meter-high central east spire.

In the year that followed, carpenters, painters, plasterers, and other skilled craftsmen worked unstintingly to complete the interior of the temple. The inside of the temple was adorned with fine wood and plaster ornamental carvings, beautiful murals and paintings, mirrors, elegant curtains and draperies, the best carpets and furniture available, fine light fixtures, chandeliers, and specially ordered stained-glass art windows. All things were made ready for the dedication ceremonies, which were to begin on 6 April 1893. In an effort to complete the temple on time, workers labored even on holidays. On Thanksgiving Day 1892, “nearly all the men were at work as usual,” one worker noted.

As the physical preparations began to wind down, there began a renewed spiritual preparation. In March 1893, the First Presidency issued an epistle calling for tender soul-searching and self-purification:

“The near approach of the date for the dedication of the Temple of our God moves us to express with some degree of fullness our feelings … to the end that in entering into that holy building we may all be found acceptable ourselves … and that the building … may also be acceptable unto the Lord. …

“We feel now that a time for reconciliation has come; that before entering into the Temple to present ourselves before the Lord in solemn assembly, we shall divest ourselves of every harsh and unkind feeling against each other; that not only our bickerings shall cease, but that the cause of them shall be removed, and every sentiment that prompted and has maintained them shall be dispelled; that we shall confess our sins one to another, and ask forgiveness one of another; that we shall plead with the Lord for the spirit of repentance … so that in humbling ourselves before Him and seeking forgiveness from each other, we shall yield that charity and generosity to those who crave our forgiveness that we ask for and expect from Heaven. …

“Asking God’s blessing upon you all in your endeavor to carry out this counsel, and desirous of seeing it take the form of a united effort on the part of the whole people, we suggest that Saturday, March 25th, 1893, be set apart as a day of fasting and prayer.”

Some Saints began arriving in the city weeks before April 1893 general conference. Lucy Flake and her husband started their trip from Arizona to Utah on 8 March 1893. “We went by team,” she noted in her journal, “as we hadn’t the money to go on train.” The group “consisted of William, myself, Sister Lanning, Joel and John, Henry and Emma Tanner and two of their children,” she wrote. The journey by wagon was “a cold hard trip, through snow and mud.” At Beaver, Utah, the Flake family finally boarded a train. “William and I took our first train ride together,” Lucy recalled. “We went with a large company of our friends and relatives from Beaver City to Salt Lake. We were joined at every station by others who were going to the Dedication.”

The evening before the first dedication service, President Woodruff conducted nonmember guests through the building on a first-of-its-kind tour. This act was a step in reconciliation by Church leaders anxious to rebuild harmony with non-Mormon neighbors after decades of hostility. Even federally appointed Utah Territorial Supreme Court justice Charles S. Zane, a longtime critic of the Church, was impressed by the quality of design, decorations, and craftsmanship. “The building is furnished opulently,” he noted in his journal after attending the open house.

Finally, the culmination of forty years of effort and sacrifice climaxed when President Woodruff entered the temple the morning of 6 April 1893. “The Temple Block gates opened at 8:30, and the street was packed long before that hour,” one priesthood leader noted. Two hours were required “to admit, one by one, the 2200 people” into the large upper assembly hall of the temple.

Thomas Griggs, a member of the Tabernacle Choir, arrived at the south gate at 8:20, but the line was so long that “it was 9:55 a.m. when I was 10 feet [3 meters] from the [gate],” he wrote. “Wind, dust and a little rain had come and it was very uncomfortable, to be ended by the door keeper announcing … ‘No more can be admitted.’ … Being well known as a member of the choir [I was] … soon at the south west entrance and hurriedly passed through.”

The focus of the service was the prayer of dedication offered by the aged prophet, “kneeling on a plush covered stool provided for the purpose” and reading the prayer he had prepared that would be read in each of the successive forty-one sessions.

Brigham Young Academy student Amy Brown recalled: “It was one of the most thrilling spiritual experiences of my life. … [As President Woodruff] stood there before the people with hair and beard as white as snow, the essence of purity, gentleness, and faithfulness, he reminded me of the prophets of old.”

For President Woodruff, the occasion was the fulfillment of a dream. He confided in his journal, “Near[ly] fifty years ago while in the city of Boston I had a vision of going with the Saints to the Rocky Mountains building a temple and I dedicated it.”

During the dedication sessions the Saints experienced an outpouring of the Spirit in the temple. The “spirit of God filled the house,” noted a participant. Susa Young Gates, who served as official stenographer for the dedication services, recalled: “The early days of April in the year 1893 were heavy with storm and gloom. A leaden sky stretched over the earth; every day the rain beat down upon it, and the storm-winds swept over it with terrific force. Yet the brightness and the glory of those days far outshone the gloom.” (See pages 44–48 of this issue.)

Annie Cannon Wells, an editorial contributor to the Woman’s Exponent in Salt Lake City, wrote, “I am only one of thousands who have watched the rearing of those walls and seemed to be a part of them, so much have our thoughts dwelt upon and longed for the day of completion. … This dedication is to the Saints the greatest event for many years. How long we have watched the building of the Temple and as stone has been laid upon stone our faith and prayers have been offered for the safe and perfect completion of the building and now that it is so handsomely completed well may we feel proud and happy.”

For many of the Saints, the temple dedication provided a spiritual seal for their efforts to gather with the people of God in the Rocky Mountains. It also confirmed the Lord’s acceptance of the covenants they had made with him and the sacrifices entailed in fulfilling the vision of modern and ancient prophets that a temple would be “established in the tops of the mountains” in the last days.

Another Church leader, Elder J. Golden Kimball, expressed the theme of united effort and sacrifice when he spoke in general conference in 1915. He said of the Salt Lake Temple, “Every stone in it is a sermon to me. It tells of suffering, it tells of sacrifice, it preaches—every rock in it, preaches a discourse. When it was dedicated, it seemed to me that it was the greatest sermon that has ever been preached since the Sermon on the Mount. … Every window, every steeple, everything about the Temple speaks of the things of God, and gives evidence of the faith of the people who built it.”

To become consistently charitable is a lifelong quest, but each act of love changes us and those who offer it. Let me tell you the story of a young woman I met recently. Alicia, as a teenager, had drifted far from the Church, but later she felt stirrings to return. She often visited her grandfather in a retirement home on Sundays. On one of those days she decided to attend the Latter-day Saint meetings there. She opened the door and found a Relief Society meeting, but no empty seats. As she was about to leave, a woman motioned to her and scooted over to make room for her on her chair. Alicia said: “I wondered what the woman would think of me. I was covered with body piercings, and I smelled of smoke. But she didn’t seem to mind; she simply made a place for me at her side.”
Alicia, heartened by this woman’s charity, returned to activity. She has served a mission and is now sharing that same kind of love with other women. The elderly sister who shared her chair understood that there is a place for every woman in Relief Society. Sisters, we gather for strength, but we bring with us all our weaknesses and imperfections.
Alicia told me something I will never forget. She said: “I only do one thing for myself when I go to church: I take the sacrament for me. The rest of the time I watch for others who need me, and I try to help and nurture them.”

Life in New York City is always a challenge, but Leury Perez, a 17-year-old priest in the Inwood First Ward, New York New York Stake, seems to take it all in stride. When he’s not winning piano performance competitions, attending early-morning seminary, studying for school, organizing youth conference as a stake youth leader, or leading the local Scout troop as senior patrol leader, he helps his busy single mom, Bienvenida (below with Leury), at home.
Leury belongs to a priests quorum of one, so he carries a lot of responsibility. “I have been visiting a lot of people who can’t go to church and taking them the sacrament on Sundays. I also go home teaching,” says Leury.
Priests quorum lessons this year have explored mission preparation, and Leury credits the For the Strength of Youth pamphlet; the Duty to God program; his adviser, Jonathan Horey; and his bishop, Mark Johnson, with helping him keep his eye on the goal of a mission. “I would like to go to Japan,” says Leury. “It seems like a cool place to go.”
“Having Leury active in the priests quorum tremendously blesses my life,” says Bienvenida. “He loves the Church and is very spiritual. I want to be an example for him, but he ends up being an example to me in many ways.”
Bienvenida moved to New York from the Dominican Republic in 1974 and was baptized into the Church seven years later. Leury was born and raised in New York and joined the Church when he was 10 years old. At age 7 Leury started taking piano lessons and developed into a fine young pianist, winning several competitions. After serving a mission Leury hopes to attend college, where he plans to major in computer animation and programming and to minor in music.
What is the Perez family’s secret to keeping it all together? “Knowing the commandments helps us to stay focused on the important things in life,” says Bienvenida. “As a single mom with two jobs, I know that the Church is very important. Seeing Leury blossom in the faith gives me a sense of happiness that I cannot quantify.”

May I close with the story of a young man who taught me this principle very forcibly. I was serving as a mission president in San Diego. I got a call from the Missionary Department one day, and they said they had a young man over in Thailand who had been there for nine months. He had learned the language fluently, but he had quit and come home because he hadn’t had a baptism. See, you have to have success to be happy. You can’t be happy and fail, I don’t care who you are. I presume the ultimate success will be eternal life, and that’s ultimate happiness, too. They had asked him to come by and talk with me on the way home. He wanted to go home so badly that he was willing to do that. So he came into my office, and there he sat, a handsome, good-looking, obviously smart young man. He had learned that language and could speak it fluently in nine months. There are people born and raised in Thailand that never speak the language fluently.

I said, “Elder, how on earth could you spend nine months in Thailand, learn the language fluently, and not baptize anybody? All you would have had to do is walk out on the streets of Bangkok and say, ‘Excuse me, I’m a Mormon elder, I have authority to baptize. Would you like to be baptized?’ That’s really all you have to do—ask people. I’m sure you would have baptized somebody in nine months, speaking the language the way you do. I know it works that way.”

The young man from Bangkok said, “President Rector, I don’t like those people. I don’t like the way they look, I don’t like the way they act, I don’t like the way they smell. They are arrogant.” And he knew about arrogance.

I said, “Well, Elder, I understand why you haven’t baptized anybody. You have to love people in order to baptize them. Why don’t you let me send you up to Carlsbad, California? We’re having a little success up there with the Spanish-speaking people. I’m sure that you could love them enough to bring them into the Church. I know you don’t speak Spanish, and we could send you down to Provo, Utah, to the Missionary Training Center for two months. You would learn to speak the language fluently. But there’s no sense in doing that. I can send you up to Carlsbad and you can get on-the-job training.”

He said, no, he didn’t want to go. I said, “What difference does that make? How many times on this earth do you have to do things that you don’t particularly want to do? Isn’t that what life is really all about, doing a bunch of things that you don’t want to do? I don’t suppose that Abraham wanted to offer his son as a burnt sacrifice, do you? I don’t think the Master wanted to die on the cross either. If he did, he was acting very strangely in the Garden of Gethsemane the night before it happened. And I know for sure that Jonah did not want to go on a mission.”

Well, he went. I gave him a blessing, promised him he would have baptisms, at least two in two months. He almost came home after his first month. But he had committed himself to stay. Commitment is very important to you and me. If you are going to serve the Lord, you are going to have to commit yourself to do so. It’s like Abigail Adams said to her husband, John, president of the United States at the time. “Do you remember what you said to me, John? You said, ‘Commitment, Abby, commitment. There are only two creatures worthy to live, one who makes commitments and one who requires commitments of others.’” If you are going to serve the Lord, you are going to have to help people make commitments. There are certain things you have to do if you are going to make it with the Lord. Those commitments are vitally important.

Well, he stayed. He was twenty-eight days into the second month, and I was getting a little nervous when I got a call from him. He said, “President Rector, I just baptized two people last night.”

I said, “Elder, that’s tremendous. Tell me about it. How did you do it?”

He said, “Well, we were teaching about twenty-five at one time. We were in our commitment lesson where we commit them to keep the commandments, pay their tithing, live the Word of Wisdom, attend church, and so forth. There were two in the group who couldn’t make those commitments. So the elders pulled them out and put them in a room by themselves. They didn’t want any negative influence in their commitment session. I was walking down the hall, and I saw them in the room. The Spirit told me to go in to talk to them.”

Oh, that’s a good sign—when the Spirit starts telling you what to do.

“I went in,” he said. “I pulled up a chair and sat down. One of them looked remarkably like my own brother. As I sat down in that chair, I don’t know what happened to me, but a feeling of love came over me. I said to him, ‘I really do love you.’ The tears rolled down my cheeks, and his cheeks too. A short time later I baptized him; then I baptized his friend.”

In the next six months that young man baptized 350 Spanish-speaking people. I transferred him down to San Diego, where we had some Spanish-speaking people as well. I made him a district leader. He and his companion were walking down the street one day and saw some Thai writing on the window of a building. He went in and spoke Thai with the proprietor. Remember, he could speak Thai fluently. The proprietor about dropped his uppers because he didn’t look like a Thai. The young man called me, very excited, and said, “President Rector, did you know that there are fifty Thai families that live here in my area?”

I said, “You don’t mean it.”

He said, “Yes, they’re here. Can I teach them?”

I said, “Now, Elder, let’s think about it for a minute. If you teach them, you’ll have to be their fellowshipper too. They have to go to Church. They won’t understand anything in English so you will have to translate everything for them. Are you willing to be their fellowshipper as well as their proselytizer?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll do it,” he said.

I said, “Okay, let’s see what you can do.”

Three weeks later he called me and said, “President Rector, I just baptized the most beautiful family of five you have ever seen—a mother and father and three children, all Thais. They don’t speak a word of English.”

I said, “Elder, that’s wonderful. Tell me about those people, will you? What kind of people are they, anyway?”

He said, “Oh, they are the sweetest people. They are so nice and humble.” They were just like the Mexicans, or the Japanese, or the Germans, or anyone else who comes to this particular point of conversion.

I said, “Tell me, elder, how do they smell?”

He said, “Yeah, that’s right; it’s me. I’m the one that’s changed.”

I never met my great-grandmother Hettie, but I have always felt a connection to her for many reasons. She was described to be similar to me in appearance, with her very pale skin and dark hair; she was from England (which I believe is where my love of all things British stems from); and she was known especially for her astounding faith in the gospel of Jesus Christ.
I was casually studying her life a short time ago when I remembered a story I’d heard about how she had helped her husband, my great-grandpa, miraculously recover from an illness that had brought him to his deathbed.
As I researched further, I found a journal entry from my grandpa (Hettie’s son), and I found out that this illness wasn’t just any sickness—my great-grandpa had contracted the deadly Spanish flu during the pandemic that lasted from 1918 to 1920.
I was shocked.
The journal entry explained that my great-grandfather had come home from work feeling sick. A doctor came, diagnosed him with the dreaded Spanish flu, and put up a red quarantine sign in the yard to make sure no one visited their home.
The Spanish flu was highly contagious, just like another virus I know.
My grandpa described how most of the homes in their city had these quarantine signs in their yards and explained how terrifying the whole ordeal was for those two years.
It’s not often I can fully relate to my ancestors, but when I read this, I felt tears prickling my eyes.
It was no coincidence that I was reading this story at this time.
In the journal, my grandpa went on to explain how the doctor visited their home again about five days later, when his father had grown so sick that he was unresponsive. After seeing how quickly people were dying from this terrible disease, the doctor concluded that there was nothing more he could do for my great-grandfather and told Hettie that all she could do was keep him comfortable until he passed away.
My grandpa wrote that Hettie cried quietly for a few moments after the doctor left, but then suddenly looked up with a determined look on her face. She told my grandpa and his brothers to kneel and pray for help. She explained to Heavenly Father that she knew He had the power to help her save her husband if it was His will, and that she would do whatever she could to save him. She pleaded with Him to let him live.
After the prayer, my grandpa explained that Hettie was inspired to create a thick paste out of mustard and hot water and to spread it over thick strips of fabric. She then wrapped them all around her husband’s chest in one last effort to clear his lungs. She covered him with blankets and stayed up all night, holding his hand, squeezing it every now and again to see if he would respond.
At around four o’clock in the morning, she finally got a good, strong squeeze of response from him, and eventually he opened his eyes. That night he was able to hold full conversations. Because of the Lord and because of Hettie’s faith in Him, my great-grandfather was going to live.
It was a true miracle.

Jason finished his brownie and joined the group gathering in the hallway. It was time for the scavenger hunt at Anna’s party.
“Here are your lists,” Anna said, handing out the sheets of paper to the three team captains.
Jason took his and said, “Come on, team!” Emily, Crystal, Rob, and Mark followed him into the kitchen. The other teams went into different rooms to examine their lists.
“We have to be ready to go when the whistle blows,” Jason said.
“What’s on our list?” asked Emily.
Jason studied the sheet. “These things shouldn’t be too hard to find,” he said. “A dog food coupon, half an English muffin, yesterday’s newspaper, a piece of junk jewelry, a sock—”
“Nobody’s going to give us one sock,” Rob interrupted.
“They will if the mate’s been lost,” said Crystal.
“As I was saying,” continued Jason, “a paper clip, a used postage stamp, a magazine, a thumbtack, a red button—”
“Wait!” Emily yelled. She reached into her jeans pocket and fished around for a moment. “Look!” She pulled out a button.
“We can’t use that,” Mark told her. “We have to get the stuff from houses. It’s the rules, just like staying together is.”
“Besides,” Crystal said, “part of the fun is getting the stuff.”
“OK,” said Emily. “I think my mom will want to sew it back on my blouse, anyway.” She put the button back into her pocket.
“What else?” Mark asked.
“Just a packet of ketchup like you get in restaurants and a brown shoelace.”
“This should be a cinch,” said Rob. “What area do we hunt in?”
“We have the section west of Ames Street and south of here.”
Emily sighed. “That’s kind of a poor area. I bet they won’t have half this stuff.”
“Don’t worry,” said Crystal. “Everyone has things like these. We’re not asking for microwave ovens!”
Wheeet! A whistle pierced the air.
“Let’s go!” Jason hollered, and they hurried for the front door, bumping into the other two groups. Everyone squeezed through the door and raced away.
The shoelace, newspaper, thumbtack, and paper clip were easy. One stop took care of them all. Two houses later they got the button, the dog food coupon, and the stamp. Next, someone gave them a worn-out green sock and suggested that they try the house across the street for the jewelry because the lady there was always having garage sales.
Not only did the lady across the street give them an old bracelet, but she also provided them with the packet of ketchup and an old Friend magazine.
Now they had just one item to get. But though they went to ten houses in a row, no one had an English muffin.
Finally they found themselves near the end of a dead-end street. The only house that they hadn’t tried was a tiny, shabby-looking one.
“Shall we try it?” asked Jason.
Emily shook her head. “They’re not going to have an English muffin in there. I don’t even want to go to the door.”
“I say we try it,” Jason said. “It can’t hurt to ask.”
“We’re already here, Em,” Rob coaxed her. “What do we have to lose?”
“I agree with Rob and Jason,” said Crystal.
There’s something forlorn about this house, Jason thought as he led the group to the door and knocked. For a minute he thought that no one was home. Then suddenly the porch was bathed in light, and the door opened slowly.
“Yes? Can I help you?” The frailest, oldest-looking woman Jason had ever seen stood in the doorway, wearing a much-mended robe.
She looks afraid of us, thought Jason. He smiled apologetically and said, “We’re sorry to bother you. We’re on a scavenger hunt and—well—we’re sorry to disturb you.”
As he and the others started to turn away, the lady quavered, “Wait! What do you need for your hunt?”
“Well …” Jason hesitated, wishing that she hadn’t asked. It was bad enough disturbing her, but asking for food …
“Half an English muffin,” Crystal reluctantly admitted, her face turning pink.
To their surprise, the woman invited them in. As they stepped into the clean but worn-looking front room, the old lady hurried toward the kitchen, saying, “I just might be able to help.”
Crystal followed the woman into her kitchen while the rest of the group waited in the front room. No one mentioned the patched furniture or the water stains on the ceiling, but they were all uncomfortably aware of the shabby room.
A moment later the woman came back and said, “Here you go, children.” She gestured toward Crystal, who followed her, carrying an English muffin.
“But—but”—Jason stammered—“you didn’t need to—”
“Go ahead. Take it,” urged the old lady. “I went on a few scavenger hunts in my day, you know. Now, you children hurry, or you might not win.” There was a twinkle in her eye as she held the door open. “Good luck!” she called after them.
When they were halfway up the street, Crystal said, “I tried to stop her. I feel terrible taking it. Do you know what she had in her kitchen? Hardly anything. That was her last English muffin. She got it out of her refrigerator, and all that was left in there were a few eggs. Her cupboard didn’t have a door, and there were only two cans of tomato soup, a box of oatmeal, and a box of instant rice in it. It was … pitiful!”
Rob said, “Maybe she just hasn’t been to the store yet.” But he didn’t sound like he believed it.
“Nobody’s groceries get that low,” Emily said, “unless they’re really poor.”
Even though no one was in much of a hurry now, Jason’s team still reached Anna’s house first. When the other teams returned and congratulated Jason’s team for winning, he explained why none of them seemed very happy.
Suddenly Emily exclaimed, “I have an idea! Maybe this scavenger hunt is just beginning.” After she told them her idea, everyone eagerly broke into teams again, this time carrying empty boxes.
“Sorry to bother you again,” Jason said to the lady who had given them the jewelry when she came to the door. “We’re on another hunt.”
“Two in one night?” she asked.
“Sort of. You see, while we were out before, we found an elderly woman who needs a few things.” After he had explained, the woman gave them some canned food and a blanket.
From house to house they went. People were generous with food, clothing, and other items. An hour later they returned to Anna’s. The other teams had done well too.
With half a dozen volunteers to carry sacks and boxes, Jason led the way to the old woman’s house. But when they got there, they found that all the lights were out.
“She must be in bed,” whispered Jason. “I don’t want to bother her again. Does anyone have a pen and paper?”
Crystal gave him both, and while the boxes were being stacked quietly just outside the door, Jason wrote: “Thanks for the muffin. We won!” He placed the note inside his sack, where the woman was sure to see it.
And he thought as they walked away that, because of her act of trusting kindness, they had all won.