Now jumping ahead to late 1968 or early 1969, at 128 Greenfield Ave. in San Rafael. Zion’s Inn for Girls, we called it, David Hoyt and I headed it up, and this event occurred after David and wife Victoria moved out. I was painting houses, etc., and we had turned the garage into bedrooms, usually six girls living there, besides my wife Bobbie and our two daughters Dory and Grace–we lived upstairs. One morning we all sat around the breakfast table. However, we had no food, I mean nothing at all. We did have a few tea bags but that was it. We just sat there, bewildered, when there was a knock at the door. I got up, went to the door, opened it and there stood two people, a man and a woman, about the same age as myself, and they held white paper bags in their hands. I opened the screen door, and they handed them to me. Just then, the man rushed down the stairs, out to a white van parked there, and came back up with a large white bag.

      I thanked them, heartedly, they turned, back down the stairs they went, into their van, and drove off. Never saw them again.

      Back inside, at the table, the bunch of us ate a most wonderful breakfast, the works, including orange juice and coffee. Afterwards I went off to a paint job, and later in the afternoon, a strange thought came to me. Who were these people? What was going on?

      When I returned home at the end of the workday, I searched for the bags the food had come in. I pulled about six bags out of the garbage basket, and examined them closely, and there were no indications at all, no words as there usually were, nothing. Suddenly it came to me; this had to be a miracle from our Lord. How the family and the other girls made it through the day, they/we had no food when I left, and there was no food left in the pantry. I think I got paid for the painting that day and brough home a hundred bucks or so.