In October, I told the eight-year-olds about my plan. "I'd like all of you to do extra jobs to1 some money. Then we'll buy food for a Thanksgiving dinner for someone who might not have a nice dinner 2 ." I wanted the children to3 that it's more blessed to give than to4. I wanted them to understand that religion is5nice theological ideas; that people somehow have to make it come 6 .
Early in the week, the boys and girls arrived in class seizing their hard-earned money and couldn't wait to go shopping. I watched7they ran up and down the supermarket aisles.8, we headed toward the checkout. Then someone9 a “necessity” that sent them racing.
"Flowers!'' Kristine cried, The group rushed toward the holiday10 .I pronounced, “you can't eat flowers.” But Mrs. Sherlock, we want flowers.”11,I sighed as the children moved a pot of purple mums（菊花） into the cart.
Then we set off for the house of a needy grandmother and finally 12 in front of a small house in the woods. A woman with a tired face came to the door to13 us. My little group hurried to get the turkey and the trimmings. As each box was carried in, the old woman thanked us—much to children's 14 , When Amy put the mums on the counter, the woman seemed surprised.
We returned to the car. Fastening seat belts, we could see the kitchen window. The woman inside waved goodbye, then turned and walked across the room, past the turkey, past the trimmings, 15 to the mums. She put her face in the flowers. When she raised her head, there was a16 on her lips. She was17 before our eyes. The children were quiet. In that one brief18, they had seen for themselves the 19 they possessed to make another's life20 . The children had sensed that sometimes a person needs a pot of funny flowers on a dark November day.
