Recently, I had to be gone over the weekend necessitating my missing Sunday services. Our family drove in early Monday morning. Sometime later that morning I came over to the church. I always enter by the door on the side of the sanctuary near the platform. That morning, when I unlocked and opened the door, light flooded in spotlighting the platform. The first thing I noticed was the Kleenex boxes. We keep them inside the pulpit and bring them out when needed in the altars. Seeing the Kleenex boxes were out, lifted my spirit. They were evidence that there had been good services while I was gone—services where the Spirit had moved and touched hearts. Spent Kleenexes in the pews also are clues to the moving of God in our midst. But, the Kleenex boxes at the altar are evidence that someone had further responded to the Word; someone had meant serious business; someone had earnestly sought help; someone had pressed on in; someone had said, "yes," to the Spirit. That doubtlessly meant someone had gotten help. Someone had left differently. Someone would never again be the same. Oh, that every service we would need to bring out the Kleenex boxes.