We were having a wonderful time until I lost my purse - lunch at the mall, an enjoyable walk to the new City Creek and Brigham Young parks. The children soon shed their coats and tossed them on the park bench. The day was so warm that I promised an ice cream cone, and we quickly gathered coats and rushed away for the treat.

In front of the ice cream counter, I realized that I didn't have my purse. Panic was soon replaced by a slow sick feeling that grew more intense as I counted what was missing - the keys to the car, cards and identification, driver's license and the Christmas money I had earlier drawn from the bank. "Please, please," I kept repeating, looking for all the help I could get. "What about the ice cream?" Cory asked."I don't even have my purse," I retorted, and we headed for the ZCMI security desk. The purse hadn't been turned in, but the lady gave the children tickets for an ice cream. With my mother watching the children, I ran more than walked to retrace our steps but didn't find the purse. I called a key man. It would be $60 to make a key - $35 if I had the code. I didn't have the code and I didn't have any money.

"We're stuck," Jamie said, "Call Dad." The suggestion started my mind working a little better. I remembered the hidden key, but it would take tools to get it. Again the security men came to the rescue when I explained the problem. I told the story again when I didn't have a ticket to get out of the parking ramp.

Our fun day had turned miserable. But by the time we reached mother's home in Rose Park, there was a phone call. Good news. Two teen boys had found the purse and taken it to the Joseph Smith Building. The lady there recognized our name. Another volunteer was the wife of our children's doctor. Soon, the purse, with all its contents, was back under my arm. Then I realized how helpful people had been. The outcome was a small miracle to me. I don't know who the boys are, but certainly they make up for the negative reports we hear about young people. They are heroes in my book. Thank you very much, whoever you are.

Lydia Heslop

West Jordan