Gospel Story Finder

Earlier that week the Valiant class had their farewell activity for Sister Stott. Travis knew that before the activity was over, his teacher would make sure she taught them something. She always did. The moment came as she set up a maze in the multipurpose room while they waited outside. Then, one at a time, she blindfolded them and guided them through the maze by telling them when to stop and turn.
It wasn’t always easy, but by listening carefully and obeying her directions, each class member was successful. Afterward, she talked to the class about how they need to have faith and trust in Heavenly Father and listen for His guidance—after their prayers, for instance—and follow His instructions in the scriptures and as given by their parents and Church leaders. She said that He would always do what was best for them. It was a lesson Travis would never forget.

Besides tutoring staff members, David was responsible for many devotionals at D.I.
“One day it was Elder Eves’s turn to give the devotional,” says Sister Scott, another welfare missionary at D.I. “Everyone was there but him. In a few minutes, in he came, walking with his braces. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room as he talked to us about overcoming adversity and working with your hand in God’s to accomplish any goal.”

“What do these scriptures teach us?” asked Daddy as he closed his Book of Mormon.
Four-year-old Tyler piped up, “Jesus said we should always pray.”
“That’s right, Tyler,” Daddy said. “Do you think that you can have a prayer in your heart all day today? Besides just praying for yourself, look for others who need blessings and pray for them. We’ll pray again for them when we have family prayer tonight.”
Mommy stood up. “It’s time to get the breakfast dishes done and for Daddy to go to his office.”
As Daddy walked to the front door, Tyler followed and grabbed his hand. “Daddy, I promise to find someone today who needs my prayer.”
Daddy picked up Tyler and gave him a hug. “Good! I knew that I could count on you.”
Later that morning, Tyler went with Mommy to take books back to the library. He looked for people who might need his prayer. He saw a lady holding a baby. The baby wouldn’t stop crying, no matter how the lady tried to soothe him. Tyler prayed quietly, “Please, Heavenly Father, bless the baby to be quiet and happy.”
After lunch, Tyler went outside to ride his tricycle. The people who lived next door were getting into their car. They waved to him. Tyler saw Mr. Radcliffe helping his wife climb out of her wheelchair and into the car. “Heavenly Father,” Tyler began to pray, “I like the Radcliffes. Please bless Mrs. Radcliffe to get well.”
That afternoon the doorbell rang. The piano tuner had come. Tyler loved to watch him use his tools on the piano. Tyler asked Heavenly Father to bless the piano man to do a good job.
Before Tyler’s bedtime, his family gathered again for family prayer. “Did you find anyone in need of blessings today?” Daddy asked Tyler.
“I found three people who needed my prayers—a baby, Mrs. Radcliffe, and the piano man.”
Mommy said, “That’s wonderful, Tyler! You followed the words of Jesus. You prayed for others. Heavenly Father heard your prayers, and He will answer them.”
Daddy said, “Tyler, will you say the family prayer now, please?”
As Tyler prayed, he remembered to ask another blessing on the people who had needed his prayers that day.

Everyone in the choir and the orchestra makes a sincere commitment to the group. “This is the first choir I’ve ever been in,” says Trevor Slezak of the Lake St. Louis Ward. “I’ve started singing more and loving music because we sing spiritual songs. I love feeling the music.” Trevor now sings in several choirs at school.

“Do you see her yet, Okorie?” Bernice asked.
Eight-year-old Okorie stood on his tiptoes and peered down the sandy Nigerian road. No motor could be heard over the rustling palm trees and the calls of the birds in the nearby rain forest. He strained his eyes to look as far down the road as he could, hoping to see a cloud of dust signaling the approach of their mother’s car.
“No, Bernice. Nothing yet,” Okorie said as he sat next to his little sister in the shade of the school walls. “I’m sure everything is all right. Maybe she is just busy with baby Ikechi.”
Bernice nodded. “Or maybe she went to the market. I hope she brings home lots of yams again. They’re my favorite.”
Okorie’s stomach growled at the thought of yams. He hoped Mum would hurry—it wasn’t like her to be this late picking them up. Everyone else had gone home long ago. The school compound was many kilometers from the nearest village of Owerri, and with nobody but his sister around, Okorie was starting to feel a little scared.
“Okorie! Look what I found!” Bernice held up a worn leather ball.
Okorie grinned broadly. Here was one way to help time pass! Eagerly he joined his sister in kicking the ball around the yard.
They were having so much fun they didn’t notice the approach of their car until their mother parked it across from the school yard. As she got out of the car, the two children ran to greet her.
“Okorie! Bernice! I am sorry you had to wait such a long time for me!” Mum said, hugging them close. “I was trying to do too many things in one day, and the time slipped away from me. Now we need to hurry! I’ve left baby Ikechi with Sister Anya’s daughter much longer than I planned. Ijeoma is only three years older than you, Okorie, and it is probably hard for her to watch a baby so long by herself.”
The two children jumped into the old car. “Look at all those yams!” Bernice squealed in delight as she peered into her mother’s woven shopping basket.
Mum smiled. “If we hurry, we can have dinner ready before your father comes home.” She turned the key to start the engine.
Click.
Their mother’s smile faded. She turned the key again. Once more there was only a click instead of the familiar roar of the engine. She tried without luck for several minutes to get the car to start—but they were stuck.
“What’s wrong with it, Mum?” Bernice asked. “Are we out of fuel?”
“No, no—I filled the tank only an hour ago.” There was concern in her voice. “But I did drive many kilometers today. Perhaps the engine has been working too hard and needs to rest a few minutes.”
“What should we do while we’re waiting?” Okorie asked.
“Well, I do have my Book of Mormon here. Should we read our scriptures now?” their mother asked.
The children agreed. Okorie liked listening to Mum’s voice as she read the scriptures. Sometimes the words confused him, but if he listened very carefully and tried to understand what the words meant, he always felt good inside. Mum said that this feeling was the Holy Ghost and that if he always tried to do what Jesus Christ would have him do, he could have that feeling all the time.
They started reading in Ether chapter 12 about several different prophets who were able to do wonderful things because of their faith in Jesus Christ. They read about Alma and Amulek, Nephi and Lehi, and Ammon and his brothers. Okorie remembered most of those names from his Primary class. One story—about the brother of Jared moving a whole mountain by faith—especially caught his attention.
“Mum, did the brother of Jared really make a mountain move?” Okorie asked.
“It was not the brother of Jared who moved the mountain. It was Heavenly Father, who was answering that prophet’s prayer. I am certain that the brother of Jared had a good reason to move that mountain. He knew he couldn’t do it himself, so he prayed to Heavenly Father. Heavenly Father knew that what the brother of Jared was asking was good and that he truly believed Heavenly Father would help him. So Heavenly Father answered his prayer.” Okorie thought about that as his mother finished reading.
“It’s been a really long time,” Bernice said. “Should we try to start the car again?”
They all held their breath while Mum turned the key. When the engine failed to start, she put her head in her hands.
“What are we going to do?” Bernice asked quietly.
Mum shook her head. “There is no one to help us for many kilometers, and it’s too far for you children to walk. It will take hours for me to walk there and return with help. Poor little Ijeoma—I have left her so long by herself with the baby!” Tears began to trickle down Mum’s cheeks.
Bernice and Okorie glanced at each other with wide eyes. What could they do?
“Mum,” Okorie said quietly, “I know what we can do.”
“What?” she asked.
“Let’s say a prayer! Heavenly Father will make the car start—just like He moved a mountain for the brother of Jared!”
“Prayers aren’t always answered right away, Okorie,” Mum sighed. “Someone will need to fix what is wrong with the engine before it will work again.”
“But if Heavenly Father can move a big mountain, don’t you think He can make our little car work?”
Mum looked at Okorie. She could see he was very serious.
“All right, my son, we will pray. Who would like to offer the prayer?”
While Okorie and Bernice talked, Okorie saw his mother bow her head and close her eyes, saying her own private prayer. When Mum opened her eyes, the two children told her they had decided they would each say a prayer.
Bernice went first. “Heavenly Father, we are stuck out here all alone because of our broken car. Please bless baby Ikechi to be safe until we get back. And please teach Ijeoma so she will know how to take care of her. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Now it was Okorie’s turn. “Heavenly Father,” he began, “please bless the car to start. We know Thou canst do it. Everybody else has gone home—there is no one else to help us. Please, Heavenly Father, help us start the car and get home safely so Mum can take care of us and the baby. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
“Amen,” Mum said. She got in the car, and with a flick of her wrist, she turned the key.
Rrrruuuummmm! The engine sprang to life as if nothing had ever been wrong with it. Bernice and Okorie bounced up and down with joy.
“Okorie! You did it! You did it!” Bernice exclaimed.
Okorie stopped his celebration long enough to shake his head solemnly and say, “No, I didn’t do it—Heavenly Father did.”
Mum hugged her children tightly. “Yes, Okorie, Heavenly Father did it. But I think it was your faith that really pulled us through. You never doubted. Both of you have made me a very happy mother.”
They said a prayer of gratitude and then drove home, singing all the way.

I’m so grateful that my sister had the courage to invite the missionaries to our home. She and I were the first ones in our family to be baptized—I was 13 and she was 15. I know I am a beloved child of our Heavenly Father. My earthly father was never present in my life, but it helps me to know that we have a Heavenly Father and that I am created in His image. I feel His love for me; I know that in the most difficult moments, He is by my side.

When I returned home to Chile after my mission, I felt confident. In fact, my next decisions seemed clear because I felt so connected to Heavenly Father. However, as I started attending college, meeting friends, and even dating someone, I found that listening to the Spirit and feeling the joy of the gospel grew increasingly difficult.
I prayed every night to the Father to feel again what I had felt on my mission. But I didn’t get an immediate response.
The answer came later when I read Alma’s words to his son Helaman: "I say unto you, that by small and simple things are great things brought to pass” (Alma 37:6).
I thought to myself, “What are the small and simple things that I’m not doing?”
I realized there were a lot of spiritual habits I hadn’t been prioritizing since my mission, and I needed to make a change.

When we arrived in Montevideo, Uruguay, I nervously looked for my father and saw him standing with his wife. He waved his cane at me in recognition. I waved back. Finally, the customs officer told me to proceed. As I walked through the customs door, my father eagerly came toward me. We embraced and kissed each other. As we left the airport terminal, the Spirit told me that the man walking beside me was a different person than I had imagined.
We spent the next few days getting acquainted with one another, laughing together, discovering what we had in common, and becoming friends. Angie and I asked him to record on tape his experiences in his youth and in courting my mother, and we discovered many things about his past. Then, one morning, Angie and I prayed that we would be blessed that day with the right words in asking my father to share with us the Ainsa genealogy and history.
It was my father’s eighty-first birthday. After opening presents at breakfast, he excused himself and came back with an object hidden underneath a towel. He handed me a box and said, “This is the least I can do after all these years. Somehow I feel that I have to make it up to you.” Inside the box was a beautiful watch.
Thirty minutes later, as we were upstairs sitting around my father’s oak desk, I inserted a blank tape into the cassette recorder and asked him to tell me about my ancestors. He talked for a few minutes, then stopped. “It’s a waste,” he said.
I panicked. “Lord, please help me,” I prayed. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for years.” Then I asked my father, “Why do you say it is a waste?”
“Because I have it in print,” he replied. My heart began to beat faster as he reached for a drawer in his desk, opened it, pulled out a folder, and handed me a sheet of paper with a list of names on it. “These are your ancestors on my father’s side,” he said, “and you’re welcome to this list.” I glanced quickly through it; it contained the names of his parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents, as well as those of distant relatives.
“What about your mother? Have you compiled a list on her side of the family?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“Your grandmother’s lineage is not important,” he muttered, brushing aside my inquiry. I replied that were it not for my grandmother, he wouldn’t be here, to which my father said, “Well, if it is that important to you, you can have it.” With that, he gave me an envelope containing names scribbled on several sheets of paper and said, “As a matter of fact, you might as well have everything.” He placed the folder in my hand.
I opened it and, as tears began to blur my vision, I read through several lists of names of distant relatives. Inside were pictures of my grandmother, my grandfather, and others. I wept openly. During the past twenty-one years, I had prayed on many occasions for this day. The Lord had heard my requests and had answered them at the appropriate time.
“Why are you crying?” my father asked.
“Because I am happy to be here,” I said.
At that moment, he, too, began to cry. He leaned his head on my shoulder and took my hand between his. “I am sorry,” he said. “I am sorry for what I did. I was wrong. I was never a father to you. During all those years, I never bothered to find out who you were. Will you ever forgive me?”
“Of course I forgive you—it is forgiven and forgotten,” I uttered between sobs. As I embraced him, the Spirit whispered softly, “I, the Lord, will forgive whom I will forgive, but of you it is required to forgive all men” (D&C 64:10). We were at peace. All the years of separation, loneliness, and turmoil melted away. He knew who I was. He had found a son. And I had finally found my father.

Ape Cave main entrance. The author and her group began their hike at a smaller entrance 1.5 miles away and ended their journey here.
At the foot of Mount Saint Helens lies the Ape Cave—the third longest underground lava tube in the United States and the destination of one of our ward Young Women activities last year.
Accompanied by our bishop, one of his counselors, and my husband, we chatted and laughed and hiked the mile-and-a-half-long (2.4 km) trail under a canopy of towering evergreen trees before climbing down the humble, three-foot hole entrance into the cave and a different world.
As our eyes adjusted to the dark, we saw a carpet of uneven hardened lava, water dripping from the ceiling, boulders piled in our way, and a dark abyss beyond. Donning our headlamps and shining our flashlights, we headed into the pitch-black cave, helping each other over boulder piles and through tight spaces.
About halfway through the hike, the sole of my hiking shoe wedged into a dip on the floor. I lost my balance and fell hard.
The “pop” in my ankle told me something was very wrong. As my husband helped me stand, pain shot through my ankle and leg, sending me back to the ground. The bishop had a bandage, so my husband wrapped my already swelling ankle and gave me some ibuprofen. After a few moments, I tried to walk. Searing, hot pain lit up my ankle and leg.
I knew I was in a tough situation. I had to get out of that cave. Due to the rocky underground terrain, being carried out was not an option. The only way to get out was to walk the three-quarters of a mile (1.2 km) out.
Not wanting to hold the others back, and knowing I was in good hands, my husband and I sent the others ahead. With only the light from our two headlamps to illuminate the way, I clung to the handle of my husband’s backpack, pulling on it with each painful step.
I prayed silently, “Please help me do this. Help me get out of this cave.”
The answer I received was unexpected: God would help me, even though in that moment I wouldn’t be able to see or feel it.
My husband did all he could to help me, pulling me up the steep parts and guiding me up and down the boulder hills on our way.
After an hour, I finally let tears fall as I climbed the largest boulder pile—60 feet long and 15 feet high. I was exhausted, in pain, hopeless. Was there an end to this cave? Could I make it out?
Still, I kept going.
Some 30 minutes later, the first glimpse of sunlight streamed through the lower exit—90 minutes after my fall.
Joyous tears fell this time.
A few days later, my doctor showed me the X-ray. I had broken my leg. Thankfully, the break was nondisplaced, meaning the three-inch fracture running down my leg hadn’t moved the bone out of alignment. A displaced fracture would have meant surgery and a longer recovery.
When I told him I had hiked .75 miles (1.2 km) out of an underground lava tube on my broken leg, he was in awe. “I can’t believe that,” he said. “It’s a miracle it didn’t become displaced.”
Here is when God whispered, “That was how I helped you.”
I’m sure God gave me strength to keep going in the cave. I know He gave me my husband to help me through. But I had no idea that in my greatest moments of pain, He was literally holding my leg together.

Among the vocational courses Sig Verano completed in his wide-ranging studies was one in real estate sales. It led to a profitable new career—and to further strengthening of his testimony.
His sales career didn’t begin well. He was fired after only one week when the owner of the real estate agency learned the new salesman’s religion following Brother Verano’s refusal to work on Sunday.
“The gospel is so important in our lives that Sunday is empty if we can’t go to Church meetings,” he explains. But the owner of the real estate company said that the Mormons put too much time into Church service to be successful. Go work for a small agency where the owner will not care so much about sales success, he told Sig Verano.
Brother Verano took the dismissal as a challenge. He found a job with a larger agency, and, working only part-time in 1979, was its top salesman. He has consistently refused to work on Sundays; as branch president and bishop, he also devoted part of his Saturdays to Church service. Yet for several years he has been among the company’s top five salespeople.

One of my good friends was having a birthday party, and I was very excited to go. When I showed my mom the invitation, she said the party was on a Sunday. My parents said I could make the decision on my own if I was going to go. I told them that I really wanted to go, but I knew that it would not be the right thing and that Heavenly Father would want me to keep the Sabbath day holy. I think Heavenly Father and Jesus were happy that I made the right choice.

The Church sent donations from the Humanitarian Aid Fund to the local Red Cross chapter in June, in response to a blaze that forced hundreds of residents from their homes in Meyers, California, near Lake Tahoe.
As part of their emergency response plan, Fallon Nevada Stake leaders made emergency supplies available to evacuees and those in need. Items included hygiene kits and blankets prepared by members. While most evacuees stayed in hotels, the Church offered the local meetinghouse as a shelter if needed.
The fire destroyed 276 buildings and homes, randomly skipping some homes and demolishing others. The neighborhoods affected are made up of cabins, modest homes, and million-dollar vacation retreats.
More than 1,800 firefighters, aided by seven helicopters, were involved in trying to suppress the fire that threatened another 500 homes.
One member family was among those who lost their homes and most of their possessions. At least 17 other member homes in the Meyers area were threatened and the families were evacuated.

Let me give you an example. Imagine that you have been looking for a job for months. You borrowed money to buy a car, and unless you get a job soon the finance company will repossess the car. It is early on a rainy November morning, and you are on your way to the most promising job interview you have ever had. But you are late; and what’s more, the fuel gauge shows that you will have just enough fuel to get there, if you’re lucky.
You slow down for a traffic light and see a friend standing in the rain at the bus stop. You are well aware that if you give your friend a ride you will be even later. You know, too, that unless you drive faster than you should, you won’t arrive at the appointed time—but if you get another traffic violation for speeding, you will lose your driving license.
Obviously, a decision must be made—but what do you do? If each circumstance were considered separately, each of us would probably know what to do. Of course you should not break the law of the land and speed; you should stop for fuel; you should help your friend; and the job is so important to your financial well-being and happiness that you should make almost any honorable effort to obtain it. But what do you do? Either you stop, or you don’t. Either you speed, or you do not. Does it matter if you break the law? Does it matter if you get the job? Does it matter if you lose your license? Is it important if you fail to give your friend a ride? Are there hidden and unforeseen consequences of possibly running out of gas, or of driving too fast? Are there eternal consequences as well?
In such instances, knowing what to do can be most difficult. And the consequences of making wrong choices can be permanent and irreversible.

Listening to the story about Jesus calming the storm was important to me. I wrote the words “Peace, be still” in my notebook because it made me feel the Spirit. I know that things will be OK even when they are hard.
Fraser S., age 9, Ontario, Canada

I saw this miracle of comfort as I arrived outside the chapel where the funeral of the little boy was to be held. I was stopped by a lovely young woman I did not recognize. She said that she was coming to the funeral to mourn and to give comfort if she could.
She said that she had come to the funeral in part for comfort for herself. She told me that her first child had died recently. She was carrying in her arms a beautiful little girl. I leaned toward her to look into the little girl’s smiling face. I asked the baby’s mother, “What is her name?” Her quick and cheerful answer was “Her name is Joy. Joy always comes after sorrow.”
She was bearing her witness to me. I could see that the peace and comfort had come to her from the only sure source. Only God knows hearts, and so only He can say, in truth, “I know how you feel.” So I can only imagine both her joy and the sorrow that preceded it, but the Lord, who loves her, knows.

David and Shauna Bond, parents of a formerly drug-abusing teenager, believe they were able to help their son end his drug abuse at an early stage in part because they were informed. Brother Bond was familiar with the signs of drug and alcohol abuse and recognized them in his son.
“When we discovered Mike was using drugs, I got anti-drug literature and told him he had to read it; then we would discuss it together,” says Brother Bond. “Mike thought he knew what it was all about, but he didn’t. Part of convincing him to stop was educating him to the dangers of drugs and letting him know that his parents were informed.”
Although there is, of course, no guaranteed treatment method, just as there is no guaranteed prevention, those three principles worked for Brother and Sister Bond. After recognizing their son’s problem, the Bonds acted firmly and without hesitation in a spirit of love. First, Brother Bond confronted Mike in a calm, loving way, telling him that any use of drugs in their home was unacceptable.
When Mike continued using drugs, the Bonds used every resource they could think of to get him off drugs and keep him off: They informed themselves about drugs; they communicated with school officials about Mike’s problem and asked them to report suspicious behavior; they searched for evidence of what Mike was using and who was supplying him; and they established rules for Mike and would not change them. All this was done with constant reassurance to Mike that the main reason they were willing to do so much was that they loved him so deeply.
“I just said, ‘Look, I love you too much to let this happen to you. You have a choice. I have a choice, too,’” says Brother Bond.
At one point, after Mike had said he wasn’t using drugs any more but his parents discovered otherwise, Brother Bond acted promptly and firmly.
“I asked Mike who was selling to him, and he wouldn’t tell me. I told him, ‘I’ll find out, and when I do, I’m going to prosecute him to the limit of the law. If it means I have to hire a detective to find out who’s supplying you, I’ll do it.’ I think Mike really heard that, and I don’t think he’s used drugs since then.”
Following through on a warning can be frightening for parents, who may fear alienating their already troubled child. Mike was furious at his parents for their intervention, and their relationship “definitely got worse,” says Brother Bond. But the temporary loss of communication was worth the end result: a drug-free son.

When the school bell rang on Friday afternoon, big white snowflakes were falling thick and fast. It was the last day of school before Christmas vacation, and the world looked like a wintry wonderland.
But the activity day girls of the East Mill Creek Fourth Ward in Salt Lake City, Utah, had more to think about than making snowmen or going sledding. They had a mission of love. This afternoon they would be making hats and scarves to keep other children warm on frosty days.
Right after school, the girls bundled up and headed to the church. They stomped the snow off their shoes and took off their coats. Then it was straight to work.
The girls turned the Relief Society room into a busy, colorful workshop. At one table, girls cut cozy fleece and fringed and tied the ends to make scarves.
Other girls sat in a circle and knitted warm hats for children and infants. Using special knitting frames, even the youngest girls became expert hat makers.
At another table, girls made snowy white pom-poms to give the hats a fun finishing touch. Abby C., age 10, also brought a quilt she made at home to donate to the project.
The girls would give all their handiwork to the Humanitarian Center. They were happy to know that somewhere in the world, on another cold winter day, some other children just like them will be warmer.
“This was a great opportunity,” said Olivia V., age 9. “It was our dream to help people.”

In 2010 the First Presidency began assigning members of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles to conduct two new kinds of international meetings—priesthood leadership conferences and area reviews. During each priesthood leadership conference, stake presidencies, bishops, and branch presidents within a designated area of the Church are brought together for training. During each area review the leaders also take an in-depth look at what is happening with the Church in a given ecclesiastical area and review such things as humanitarian service, welfare needs, missionary work, and family history and temple work.

Months later, the young single adults in my area were planning a trip to visit the Freiberg Germany Temple in the next year. We were challenged to prepare our own family names beforehand to bring with us.
I visited many family members and a priest in a village where my ancestors had lived to gather information and records. I also prayed for guidance to help me find other members of my family who needed their work done.
In the end, I collected and prepared about 40 family names to be baptized during my first temple trip. But there was one ancestor in particular that I was truly excited about.
On the day we visited the temple, one of my dearest friends (who eventually became my husband) grabbed my hand and led me into the baptismal font to complete my grandma’s baptism. And when he lowered me into the water and raised me back up, I was struck by the warmest feeling from the Holy Ghost.
I knew immediately that my grandma was with me and that she was grateful to finally become a member of the Church. I was grateful to her for helping me truly realize just how much the work we do in temples matters to our ancestors.

Wise parents see in every need of others a way to bring blessings into the lives of their sons and daughters. Three children recently carried containers holding a delicious dinner to our front door. Their parents knew that we needed help, and they included their children in the opportunity to serve us.
The parents blessed our family by their generous service. By their choice to let their children participate in the giving, they extended blessings to their future grandchildren. The smiles of the children as they left our home made me confident that will happen. They will tell their children of the joy they felt giving kindly service for the Lord. I remember that feeling of quiet satisfaction from childhood as I pulled weeds for a neighbor at my father’s invitation. Whenever I am invited to be a giver, I remember and believe the lyrics “Sweet is the work, my God, my King.”2
I know those lyrics were written to describe the joy that comes from worshipping the Lord on the Sabbath. But those children with the food at our door were feeling on a weekday the joy of doing the Lord’s work. And their parents saw the opportunity to do good and spread joy over generations.