Last night, my companion and I walked to the church after dinner, and there we saw a police car sitting in the parking lot. (The church parking lot is not a normal place to see a police car!) We walked in the front doors, and found a large gathering in the foyer: the other two elders, their investigator, our bishop and our ward mission leader, and two police officers who were getting everyone's names and addresses.
Turns out that what happened is that while the other two elders were walking to the church before us, they stopped at a crosswalk because the light was red. There was another guy standing next to them waiting for the same crosswalk, so they asked him how he was doing. The guy responded that he was not doing well, he had no money, he was coming home from trying to jump off a bridge, and he was planning to kill himself at home. And then he walked away, and then the elders called the police to go get him.
While the officers at the church were collecting everyone's information and the details of the story, they got a call from another officer who said they'd found the guy (still alive). I suppose it turned out all right.
A few days before, we had a lesson with a young man. We taught him about our premortal family--how we all lived together and knew and loved each other before we were born. He said it was a miracle that we met. We taught him to pray (Alma 34:17-27), and he said his first prayer to Heavenly Father. The Spirit filled our hearts with joy--and a testimony that God, too, was rejoicing to hear from His child again.