Helaman Hunt, like any other missionary, wears a suit, white shirt, and a tie. Each day before he begins his work he says, "Let's do some good today."

But Elder Hunt is different from other missionaries. When he was a baby, massive bleeding in his brain combined with spinal meningitis caused doctors to proclaim that, if he survived, he would be in a vegetative state for the rest of his life — he would never smile, talk, sit up, or be able to do anything for himself.

But through the faith of his family and blessings of the priesthood, Helaman survived. As he matured, it became apparent that not only could he smile, but he could also laugh and speak. He developed the use of his right hand.

As Helaman grew, his desire to serve a mission grew as well. But that goal, along with finding a place where he could work, seemed to be impossible. His mother desperately tried to find a place for him but it seemed that everywhere she went, she heard the words that broke her heart: "We don't take those kind of people here."

That was until the day she walked into the Welfare Square Bishops' Storehouse in Salt Lake City. There she saw several people with disabilities stocking shelves and assisting people in filling orders. Hesitantly, she asked the storehouse manager, "Do you think there is a place for us?" A few days later, Helaman Hunt took the precious name badge in his right hand for the first time and placed it on the pocket of his suit coat. He was a missionary.

For the last three years, Elder Hunt has served in a mission district composed of 18 special needs missionaries. Each day, those great souls arrive at Welfare Square where they don work aprons, and then go about their day serving others and doing good.

For her part, Sister Hunt knows that being at Welfare Square is a priceless blessing. For the last three years, she has worked alongside her son providing leadership and inspiration to the small mission district. "The worst feeling in the world," she said, "is to feel that nobody needs you."

Elder Hunt, at the end of every day as he is traveling home, smiles at his mother and says, "I guess we done some good today." — Neil K. Newell, Welfare Services