爱华网Heart of Feeling Grateful
他拿出鲜花，递给我那个靴形瓷瓶，我捧着它，就像当年安所做的那样，抚摸着它，思索着它所蕴涵的种种意义，我想，友谊并未随着岁月的流逝而消失；我想起记忆长河中的感激之情；还有更为重要的——新生的希望。
善心可依
佚名
在我的成长过程中，一直觉得，被人看到与父亲在一起是件很尴尬的事。父亲个子矮小，还患有严重的脚疾。我们走在一起时，他总是挽着我的胳膊来保持身体平衡，这样难免会招来一些好奇的目光，令我很不自在。但是如果他注意到了我的这些细微变化，即使再痛苦都会埋在心底，从不表露出来。
我们走路的步调很难协调一致——他行动迟缓，我毫无耐心。因此一路上我们交谈甚少。只是每次临走前，他总会说：“你走你的，我会尽量跟上你。”
我们常往返于家与地铁站之间的那段路，父亲要在那儿乘地铁去上班。他常会带病工作，不管天气多么恶劣，几乎没耽误过一天，就是在别人不能去的情况下，他也会设法去上班。实在是了不起！
冰封大地，漫天飞雪的季节，若是不借助外力的帮助，他几乎无法独自行走。每到这时，我和姐妹们就用儿童雪橇拉他通过纽约布鲁克林区的街道，把他直接送到地铁入口处。一到那儿，他便抓住扶手,自己走下楼梯，因为通道里暖和些，地上没结冰。到了曼哈顿，地铁站就在他办公楼的地下一层，在我们去布鲁克林接他回家前他不用再走出楼来。
现在想起这些来，我不禁慨叹,一个成年男子需要多大的勇气才能承受这种侮辱和压力啊！他竟然做到了——没有丝毫痛苦的迹象，也从未有任何抱怨。
他从不觉得自己可怜,也从不嫉妒别人的幸运和能力。他寻找怀有“善心”的人们，当他发现时，人家确实对他不错。
如今，我已长大成人，我相信以“善心”为标准来判断人是很正确的，虽然我不甚清楚它的真正含义，但却觉得自己很多时候是缺乏善心的。
虽然许多活动父亲都不能参加，但他仍然设法以某种方式参与进去。当一个地方棒球队缺少领队时，他就做了领队。他是个棒球迷，有丰富的棒球知识，过去常带我去埃比茨棒球场看布鲁克林的鬼精灵队的比赛。他喜欢参加舞会和晚会，很高兴坐那儿当观众。
记得有一次，在海边的晚会上，有人打架，并动了拳头。父亲不忍坐视不管，但在松软的沙滩上他又无法使自己站起来。失望之下，便吼了起来：“你们谁坐下来和我打？”没人回应。第二天，人们都开玩笑说，还是头一次看到这种情形，比赛还没开始，拳击手就被劝服输。
如今,我知道,有些事情父亲是通过我——他唯一的儿子来参与的。我打球时(虽然我的球技很差)，他也在“打球”。我参加海军时，他也“参加”。我休假在家时，他会让我去他办公室。向同事介绍时，他认认真真地说：“这是我儿子，也是我自己，假如事实不是这样的话,我也会像他一样做那些事情。”这些言语，他以前从未说出来过。
父亲虽已去世多年，但我仍会时常想起他。不知他是否感觉到我和他在一起时，曾是那么不愿意被人看到。如果他知道那一切，我现在会感到非常难过，因为我从没告诉过他我是如此愧疚和悔恨，我是不孝的。每当为琐事烦扰而怨天尤人时，为别人的红运当头而心怀妒忌时，为自己缺乏“善心”而自责时，我就会不由自主地想起父亲。
那时，我就会挽着他的胳膊，也为了保持我的身体平衡，并说：“你走你的，我会尽力跟上你。”
■心灵小语
父爱是深沉的，但同样伟大。在迎接生活中风风雨雨的同时，父亲不轻易表露的爱时时刻刻都在向孩子流淌着。做一个懂得感恩的孩子，不要漠视世界上最为深沉的父爱。
A Good Heart to Lean On
Anonymous
When I was growing up,I was embarrassed to be seen with my father.He was severely crippled1 and very short,and when we wouldwalk together,his hand on my arm forbalance,people would stare.I would inwardly squirm at theunwanted attention.If he ever noticed or was bothered,he never let on.
It was difficult to coordinate our steps his halting,mine impatient and becauseof that,we didn’t say much as we went along.But as we started out,he always said,“You set the pace.I will try to adjust to you.”
Our usual walk was to or from the subway,which was how he gotto work.He went to work sick,and despite nasty weather.He almost nevermissed a day,and would make it to the office even if others couldnot.Amatter of pride.
When snow or ice was on the ground,it was impossible for himtowalk,even with help.At such times my sisters or I would pull himthrough the streets of Brooklyn,NY,on a child’s sleigh to the subwayentrance.Once there,he would cling to thehandrail until he reached thelower steps that the warmer tunnel air kept icefree.In Manhattan thesubway station was the basement of his office building,and he wouldnot have to go outside again until we met him in Brooklyn,on hisway home.
When I think of it now,I marvel at how much courage it musthave taken for a grown man to subject himself to such indignity and stress .And at how he did it without bitterness or complaint.
He never talked about himself as an object of pity,nor did he showany envy of the moref ortunate or able.What hel ooked for in otherswas a“goodheart”,and if he found one,the owner was good enough forhim.
Now that I am older,I believe that is a proper standard by whichto judge people,even though I still don’t know precisely what a“goodheart”is.But I know the times I don’t have one myself.
Unable to engage in~many`activities,my father still tried to participate insome way.When a local sandlot baseball team found itself without amanager,he kept it going.He was aknowledgeable baseball fan and oftentook me to Ebbets Field to see the Brooklyn Dodgers play.He likedto go to dances and parties, where he could have a good time just sitting and watching.
On one memorable occasion a fight broke out at a beach party, with everyone punching and shoving. He wasn’t content to sit and watch, but he couldn’t stand unaided on the soft sand. In frustration3 he began to shout, “I’ll fight anyone who will sit down with me！” Nobody did. But the next day people kidded him by saying it was the first time any fighter was urged to take a dive even before the bout began.
I now know he participated in some things vicariously through me, his only son. When I played ball (poorly), he “played” too. When I joined the Navy, he “joined” too. And when I came home on leave, he saw to it that I visited his office. Introducing me, he was really saying, “This is my son, but it is also me, and I could have done this, too, if things had been different.” Those words were never said aloud.
He has been gone many years now, but I think of him often. I wonder if he sensed my reluctance to be seen with him during our walks. If he did, I am sorry I never told him how sorry I was, how unworthy I was, how I regretted it. I think of him when I complain about trifles, when I am envious of another’s good fortune, when I don’t have a “good heart”.
At such times I put my hand on his arm to regain my balance, and say, “you set the pace, I will try to adjust to you.”
一杯牛奶的温暖
佚名
一天，一个可怜的小男孩儿为凑足学费正挨家挨户地推销商品。他发现身上只剩一角钱了，此时他很饿，因此决定从下一家要点儿吃的。
然而，当一位年轻貌美的女子打开门时，他却紧张得不知所措。他没有要吃的，只是要了口水喝。女子看到小男孩儿饥饿的样子，顿生怜悯之心，便倒了一大杯牛奶递给他。他慢慢地喝光了牛奶，问道：“我需要付您多少钱呢？”
“你不必付钱给我，”女子答道，“妈妈教育我说，爱心善举，不求回报。”男孩说：“那么我就发自内心地向您说声谢谢！”当霍华德.凯利走出这户人家时，他觉得浑身充满了力量，也对上帝和整个人类充满了信心。原本，他打算放弃。
若干年后，那位女子得了重病，当地医生都束手无策。最后，她转院到大城市，接受专家会诊。著名的霍华德.凯利医生也参与了医疗方案的制定。当他得知这位病人来自那个城镇时，一个奇怪的念头闪过，他立即起身直奔她的病房。
身着白大褂的凯利医生走进了病房，一眼便认出了那个女子，她正是他的恩人。回到诊室，他下定决心要竭尽全力医治她。从那天起，他就对恩人给予了特殊的照顾。
经过艰苦卓绝的努力，手术终获成功。凯利医生要求把医药费结算单送到他那儿，他看了一下，便在上面签了字。当结算单送到女子的病房时，她甚至不敢打开来看，因为她知道这医药费一定极其昂贵，或许她要用整个余生去偿还。最后，她还是鼓足勇气打开了看，她注意到单子旁边的一行小字，不禁小声地念起来：
“医药费已由一杯牛奶支付。”
（署名）霍华德.凯利医生
喜悦的泪水夺眶而出，她不禁默默祈祷：“感谢您，上帝！您的爱已经通过人类的心灵和双手传递开来。”
With One Glass of Milk
Anonymous
One day, a poor boy who was trying to pay his way through school by selling goods from door to door found that he had only one dime left. He was hungry so he decided to beg for a meal at the next house.
However, he lost his nerve when a lovely young woman opened the door. Instead of a meal, he asked for a drink of water. She thought he looked hungry so she brought him a large glass of milk. He drank it slowly, and then asked, “How much do I owe you？”
“You don’t owe me anything,”she replied, “Mother has taught me never to accept pay for a kindness.”He said, “Then I thank you from the bottom of my heart.” As Howard Kelly left that house, he not only felt stronger physically, but it also increased his faith in God and the human race. He was about to give up and quit before this point.
Years later, the young woman became critically ill. The local doctors were baffled. They finally sent her to the big city, where specialists can be called in to study her rare disease. Dr. Howard Kelly, now famous was called in for the consultation. When he heard the name of the town she came from, a strange light filled his eyes. Immediately, he rose and went down through the hospital hall into her room.
Dressed in his doctor’s gown he went in to see her. He recognized her at once. He went back to the consultation room and determined to do his best to save her life. From that day, he gave special attention to her case.
After a long struggle, the battle was won. Dr. Kelly requested the business office to pass the final bill to him for approval. He looked at it and then wrote something on the side. The bill was sent to her room. She was afraid to open it because she was positive that it would take the rest of her life to pay it off. Finally she looked, and the note on the side of the bill caught her attention. She read these words，
“Paid in full with one glass of milk.”
(Signed) Dr. Howard Kelly
Tears of joy flooded her eyes as she prayed silently, “Thank You, God. Your love has spread through human hearts and hands.”
感恩的心
史蒂夫.古迪尔
感恩节就要到了，一年级的老师给学生们布置了一个有趣的作业，画一幅他们感谢某物或某人的图画。
虽然大多数同学或许要考虑一下家庭条件问题，但仍然有许多同学准备了火鸡和其他传统的节庆点心来庆祝节日。对于这些，老师认为，这是大多数同学艺术创作的主题。确实如此。
但是，有一个非常与众不同的男孩，名叫道格拉斯，他画了一幅很特别的画。在老师眼中，他是一个悲惨、脆弱、不幸的孩子。其他小朋友在课间休息时间做游戏时，他很可能就站在老师的身旁。在他那忧郁的双眼背后，人们看到的是心灵最深处的哀伤。
是的，他的画很特别。当老师要求画一幅感谢某物或某人的图画时，他画了一只手。其他什么都没有。仅仅是一只空空的手。他的这幅抽象画引起了其他同学的想象。这只手会是谁的呢？有一个孩子猜那是农民伯伯的手，因为他们养火鸡。另一个孩子猜是警察叔叔的手，因为他们保护和照顾人们。讨论仍在继续，指导老师几乎忘了这位年轻的画家。
当孩子们去关注其他作业时，老师来到了道格拉斯的课桌旁，弯下腰，问他那只手是谁的。小男孩转过脸去，低声地说：“老师，是您的手。”
她回忆过去，曾经牵着他的手一起散步，就像牵着其他同学的手一样。曾经，她多次说：“道格拉斯，牵着我的手，一起出去散散步。”或是，“让我给你示范如何握铅笔。”或是，“让我们一起做事。”于是，道格拉斯对老师的这双手充满了感激。
老师拭去眼中的泪水，继续她的课程。
事实上，人们很少说“谢谢”。但是，他们会将那双援助之手铭记于心。
The Hand
Steve Goodier
Thanksgiving Day was near. The first grade teacher gave her class a fun assignment—to draw a picture of something for which they were thankful.
Most of the class might be considered economically disadvantaged, but still many would celebrate the holiday with turkey and other traditional goodies of the season. These, the teacher thought, would be the subjects of most of her student’s art. And they were.
But Douglas made a different kind of picture. Douglas was a different kind of boy. He was the teacher’s true child of misery, frail and unhappy. As other children played at recess, Douglas was likely to stand close by her side. One could only guess at the pain Douglas felt behind those sad eyes.
Yes, his picture was different. When asked to draw a picture of something for which he was thankful, he drew a hand. Nothing else. Just an empty hand.
His abstract image captured the imagination of his peers. Whose hand could it be？ One child guessed it was the hand of a farmer, because farmers raise turkeys. Another suggested a police officer, because the police protect and care for people. And so the discussion went—until the teacher almost forgot the young artist himself.
When the children had gone on to other assignments, she paused at Douglas’ desk, bent down, and asked him whose hand it was. The little boy looked away and murmured, “It’s yours, teacher.”
She recalled the times she had taken his hand and walked with him here and there, as she had the other students. How often had she said, “Take my hand, Douglas, we’ll go outside.” Or, “Let me show you how to hold your pencil.” Or, “Let’s do this together.” Douglas was most thankful for his teacher’s hand.
Brushing aside a tear, she went on with her work.
In fact, people might not always say “thanks”. But they’ll remember the hand that reaches out.
树下的男孩
大卫.科尔曼 凯文.兰德尔
在大一生活结束的那个短暂的暑假里，我受邀到密歇根州一所大学主办的高中领导才能夏令营担任辅导员一职。我曾参加过很多大学的教育活动，因此便欣然接受了这次机会。
在第一天的营地生活中，我利用一个小时的时间尽力使气氛缓和，强迫大家互动起来。就在这个时候，我第一次注意到那个树下的男孩。他很弱小，明显的局促和羞怯令他看起来更为虚弱无力。距离他只有50英尺远的地方，两百个热衷于露营的孩子蹦跳着、打闹着、开着玩笑、不断交谈着；然而那个树下的男孩，看起来去哪里都可以，只要别待在这里。他表现出来的让人绝望的孤独，像是要拒我于千里之外。我想起资深辅导员的指点：要给那些感觉受到忽略的队员以特别关注。
我向那个男孩走过去，打招呼说：“你好，我叫凯文，是营里的辅导员。很高兴认识你。你好吗？”他发出了颤抖的、局促不安的声音，很不情愿地回答我：“是的，我还好。”我平静地问他是不是想参加活动，结识一些新朋友。他静静地答道：“不，这真的不是我想做的事情。”
我可以感觉到，他身处一个全新的世界，这里的一切都与他无关。然而，不知道什么原因，我却知道鼓励他也不是什么好方法。他需要的不是激励的谈话，而是一位朋友。一段沉默过后，我和树下男孩的第一次互动也宣告结束。
第二天的午饭时间，我为200个新朋友高声领唱夏令营之歌。队员们满怀热情地唱了起来。穿过嘈杂、活跃的人群，我的目光定格在那个坐在树下的孤独的男孩，他正向窗外凝望着。我差点忘了正在领唱的歌词。只要抓住机会，我就会试着再次接近他，我像上一次那样问道：“你现在怎么样，还好吗？”他又一次答道：“是的，我还好。我只是真的不想做这些事情。”从餐厅走出来的时候，我明白，要想打开他的心扉，需要付出比我之前预料的更多的时间和努力。
那天夜里，在每天晚上例行的辅导员会议上，我把自己对他的忧虑说了出来，并向同事们介绍了他给我留下的印象，请他们对他多加留意，尽量多花一点时间来陪陪他。
在夏令营的日子比我所知道的其他任何时候过得都要快，年年如此。不知不觉，星期三已渐渐成为夏令营的最后一夜，而我陪伴他们直到曲终人散。学生们与新结识的“挚友”纵情享受这最后的时刻，他们今后或许再也不会相遇。
正当我看着队员们分享临别时光的时候，我突然看到了生命中最动人的一幕。那位曾一脸茫然地对着餐厅窗外凝望的树下男孩，此时脱去了衬衫，正在热情狂舞。当他与两个女孩开始跳舞时，他吸引了整个舞场的目光。我看着他与人们亲密地度过这意味深长的时光，而就在几天之前，他却连看他们一眼也不愿意，我简直不敢相信这是同一个人。
大二的时候，在一个十月的午夜，我放下手中的化学书，接了一个电话，听筒里传出一个陌生、轻柔、很有礼貌的声音：“您是凯文吗？”
“我就是凯文，请问您是谁？”
“我是汤姆.约翰逊的妈妈。您是否对领导才能夏令营的汤米还有印象？”
那个树下男孩，我怎么会不记得呢？
“哦，当然记得，”我回答，“他可是一个很可爱的年轻人。他还好吗？”
在长时间的停顿过后，约翰逊夫人说：“这个星期，当我的汤米放学回家时，被一辆汽车撞了，就这样走了。”我感到十分震惊，对汤米的辞世表示哀悼。
“我只是想打电话告诉您，”她说，“因为汤米曾多次提到您。我想让您知道，这个秋天，他信心十足地回到学校，结交了新朋友，成绩也提高了，甚至还出去和女孩子约会过几次。我想谢谢您，您对他的改变起了很大作用。近来几个月是他生命中最美好的时光。”
刹那间，我才明白，每天奉献一点是多么容易。你或许从不知道，每一点善意的举动会给别人带来多大的影响。我尽可能多地讲述这个故事，并试着说服其他人留心他们的“树下男孩”。
The Boy under the Tree
David Coleman . Kevin Randall
In the summer recess between freshman and sophomore years in college, I was invited to be an instructor at a highschool leadership camp hosted by a college in Michigan. I was already highly involved in most campus activities, and I jumped at the opportunity.
About an hour into the first day of camp, amid the frenzy of icebreakers and forced interactions, I first noticed the boy under the tree. He was small and skinny, and his obvious discomfort and shyness made him appear frail and fragile. Only fifty feet away, two hundred eager campers were bumping bodies, playing, joking and meeting each other, but the boy under the tree seemed to want to be anywhere other than where he was. The desperate loneliness he radiated almost stopped me from approaching him, but I remembered the instructions from the senior staff to stay alert for campers who might feel left out.
As I walked toward him, I said,“Hi, my name is Kevin, and I’m one of the counselors. It’s nice to meet you. How are you？” In a shaky, sheepish voice he reluctantly answered, “Okay, I guess.” I calmly asked him if he wanted to join the activities and meet some new people. He quietly replied, “No, this is not really my thing.”
I could sense that he was in a new world, that this whole experience was foreign to him. But I somehow knew it wouldn’t be right to push him, either. He didn’t need a pep talk; he needed a friend. After several silent moments, my first interaction with the boy under the tree was over.
At lunch the next day, I found myself leading camp songs at the top of my lungs for two hundred of my new friends. The campers eagerly participated. My gaze wandered over the mass of noise and movement and was caught by the image of the boy from under the tree, sitting alone, staring out the window. I nearly forgot the words to the song I was supposed to be leading. At my first opportunity, I tried again, with the same questions as before, “How are you doing？ Are you okay？” To which he again replied, “Yeah, I’m all right. I just don’t really get into this stuff.” As I left the cafeteria, I realized this was going to take more time and effort than I had thought—if it was even possible to get through to him at all.
That evening at our nightly staff meeting, I made my concerns about him known. I explained to my fellow staff members my impression of him and asked them to pay special attention and spend time with him when they could.
The days I spend at camp each year fly by faster than any others I have known. Thus, before I knew it, midweek had dissolved into the final night of camp, and I was chaperoning the“last dance.” The students were doing all they could to savor every last moment with their new “best friends”—friends they would probably never see again.
As I watched the campers share their parting moments, I suddenly saw what would be one of the most vivid memories of my life. The boy from under the tree, who had stared blankly out the kitchen window, was now a shirtless dancing wonder. He owned the dance floor as he and two girls proceeded to cut a rug. I watched as he shared meaningful, intimate time with people at whom he couldn’t even look just days earlier. I couldn’t believe it was the same person.
In October of my sophomore year, a latenight phone call pulled me away from my chemistry book. A softspoken, unfamiliar voice asked politely, “Is Kevin there？”
“You’re talking to him, who’s this？”
“This is Tom Johnson’s mom. Do you remember Tommy from leadership camp？”
The boy under the tree. How could I not remember？
“Yes, I do,” I said. “He’s a very nice young man. How is he？”
An abnormally long pause followed, then Mrs. Johnson said, “My Tommy was walking home from school this week when he was hit by a car and killed.” Shocked, I offered my condolences.
“I just wanted to call you,” she said, “because Tommy mentioned you so many times. I wanted you to know that he went back to school this fall with confidence. He made new friends. His grades went up. And he even went out on a few dates. I just wanted to thank you for making a difference for Tom. The last few months were the best few months of his life.”
In that instant, I realized how easy it is to give a bit of yourself every day. You may never know how much each gesture may mean to someone else. I tell this story as often as I can, and when I do, I urge others to look out for their own “boy under the tree”.
感受异国的阳光
佚名
今天周几，周二还是周三？她一直带着学生们进行那似乎永无休止的复习。这件事我好像昨天刚刚做过啊？还是去年做的？烦死了，怎么都赶到一块儿了。“史密斯小姐，我去下洗手间可以吗？”正要迈腿跑出去的乔治，停下来问道。我是第几次听到这样的话了？她想着，随口答道：“好的。”然后她看着他跑出了教室。
她坐在桌旁，眼睛凝视着学生，脑子却不停地在想下班后该做些什么事情。我今晚该去健身房或是该去市场买点儿吃的东西。她机械地继续上她的课，给学生讲字母“a”。“‘a’怎么读？”“a，a，a……”学生们异口同声干巴巴地读着。时间一分一秒地过去了，似乎在嘲笑她这无聊单调的一天。
该下课了吧？正想着，教室的电话响了，她叹口气，起身，走过学生的课桌去接电话。话筒那端的声音似乎传自百英里之外。哦，我多希望我现在不是在这儿，而身处异国他乡啊。她的思绪飞到了异国情调浓郁的墨西哥卡波海滩，去年她在那儿度过了愉快的暑假：慵懒地躺在沙滩上，任由阵阵微风轻吻她的肌肤，那种惬意、恬静的感觉，至今记忆犹新。
“史密斯小姐，你在听我讲话吗？”秘书有点儿不耐烦地问道。“哦，抱歉。刚才你说什么了？”“麻烦你让卡拉到我办公室来一趟。”秘书更加不耐烦地说。“哦，当然可以。”说着,她挂断了电话。她转过身来叫了卡拉的名字。卡拉是这个班上众多的贫困生之一。她抬起头，松散的头发像堆稻草，满脸污垢，活像《绿野仙踪》里的稻草人。“你到办公室去一趟。”她对慢慢抬起头的卡拉说道。“为什么让我去？”卡拉嘀咕道。“让你去你就去——快去吧！”卡拉出去了，她匆忙地转回身。卡拉是去领免费校服的。如果有人打电话来说些好听的或是对我做的这些令人讨厌的工作表示感谢该多好。她叹了口气，走回去，学生们都耐心地等着她。
这极其单调的工作重复了一下午。最后，解放的钟声终于响了。她把学生带出教室，就像母鸡带着小鸡崽儿回窝似的。她看到学生的妈妈们都在铁门外热切地期待着。当她路过走廊时，满载西班牙音乐气息的空气迎面扑来。她欣慰地看着孩子们离开，回到充满欢声笑语的家，而自己却不得不重又回到那无尽的单调和无聊之中。
“夫人，您好，可以打扰您几分钟吗？”她扭过头，一个窘迫的男子出现在她面前，他那棕色的面庞布满皱纹。“谢谢您给予我孙子胡里奥的帮助。”他用蹩脚的英语说道。她忽然想起了胡里奥，外表看起来那么不易接近，后来渐渐地敞开了他充满渴盼的内心世界。她想胡里奥一定在暗下决心努力学好外语，并会为每次进步而欢欣鼓舞。这位祖父也和他的孙子一样吗？她抬头看了看这位老人，很快便找到了两人的共同之处。“谢谢您，夫人！”老人用那只饱经沧桑的手，紧紧握住她的手，他的热情深深地感染了她。很快，他把手缩了回去，走开了。当他渐渐远去时，她想到了异国的阳光，而且也意识到了，异国的阳光其实就近在咫尺。
■心灵小语
阳光给人温暖，令人惬意，同时也象征着希望。文中的老师帮助一名看似孤僻的学生找到了自信，给生活在贫困中的他以希望。而这种善良的付出所得到的感激，令她感悟到，原来无须远行，同样能够感受异国阳光所带来的恬静感觉。
A Grandfather’s Touch
Anonymous
What day is it today？ Is it Tuesday or Thursday？ This thought raced through her mind as she sat back with her students going over the lesson that never seemed to end. Didn’t I just do this yesterday？ Or was it a year ago？ Hell, everything seemed to jumble1 together anymore. “Miss Smith, can I go to the bathroom？”Jorge asked, as he proceeded to jump from one foot to another, holding himself. How many times have I heard this？ She wondered as she abruptly said, “Yes” and watched as he raced out of the room.
Sitting at the table she gazed at her students while thinking of what she would do after work. Maybe I’ll go to the gym or stop at the market for something to eat tonight. Mechanically she continued with her lesson on the short letter“a” with her students. “The letter‘a’ makes what sound？”“a, a, a”, the students sang together going through the empty motions. The clock dragged away the minutes teasing her with the tediousness of the day.
Won’t it end？ She thought as the phone rang out its morse code for her room. Sighing she stood up and walked through the maze of students desks to get to the phone. Picking up the receiver the other voice seemed a hundred miles away. Oh, how I wish I were anywhere but here. Her mind wandered to the hot exotic beach of Cabo, Mexico, where she had spent her last summer break. She still remembered the cool breezes that caressed her skin as she lay on the gritty2 sand.
“Miss Smith， did you hear me？” the secretary annoyingly asked her. “Oh, sorry. What did you say？” “Can you send Carla to the office？” the secretary impatiently asked. “Oh, course,” she replied as she hung up the phone. She turned from the phone and yelled out Carla’s name. Carla, who was one of the many who always seemed so needy that were in her class this year. Carla looked up from her desk, her hair hanging like a matted displaced doll. Her face was lined with dirt that gave her the appearance of one of those munchkins from the Wizard of Oz. “You need to go to the office”, she said while Carla slowly rose from her desk. “Why do I have to go？” whined Carla. “It’s between you and the office—just go up,” she hastily turned her back as Carla walked out of the room. Like having free school uniforms is the answer. It would be nice if just once someone called saying something nice or thanking me for all the endless crap I have to deal with. With a sigh she walked back to her other students who were clustered at the back table patiently waiting her return.
The rest of the afternoon blurred into one long endless repetition. Finally the bell rang as a relief. As she led her students out the door they walked behind her as baby chicks3 returning to their fold. She noticed that their mother hens clucked to them behind the iron gate. As she proceeded to walk down the corridor, the air, which rose with the musical tingle of Spanish coloring everything that touched it, greeted her. She watched with a touch of envy as the children left her to return to those homes that probably were filled with laughter and warmth while she would once again return to the same endless march of boredom.
“Senora, un momento por favor？” she turned her head and noticed the small shriveled man, his brown face lined with a map to places only he knew. “Thanks for helping my grandson Julio to read.” the gentleman said in his faltering broken English. She immediately thought of Julio, who once as unreachable as a hardened walnut, slowly cracked opened to reveal the eager child inside. She thought of the inner struggle Julio must have had as he tried to make sense of the foreign letters and the sudden joy when he had unbroken the mysterious code. Was the grandfather the same？ She looked up at this elderly gentleman, probably his grandfather, and quickly recognized the sameness of the two. “Gracias Senora” a weathered hand came out and firmly grasped hers with warmth that radiated from his soul to hers. Just as abruptly he removed his hand and left her. As he walked away she thought of that exotic sun and realized maybe it was closer to her than she thought.
师恩如甘露
佚名
史蒂夫12岁了，他的父母都是酒鬼。今年，他就要结束自己的学校生活了。虽然史蒂夫能够阅读，可他还是个差生。从一年级开始他的成绩就很差，在一年又一年的学习中，依然没有什么进展。史蒂夫身材健壮，看起来远远要比12岁的孩子大得多。不过他一直都不被人重视……直到怀特小姐来到。
怀特小姐笑容可掬，年轻有活力，还有一头迷人的红发。这正是史蒂夫喜欢的类型。在年轻的生命中，史蒂夫第一次无法把眼睛从老师身上移开，不过，他的学习仍旧不好。史蒂夫从没有做过家庭作业，还总是给怀特小姐找麻烦。怀特小姐那尖刻的话让他的心都碎了。每次因为不交作业而被罚时，他都感到十分痛苦。然而，他还是不学习。
到了第一学期的期中，整个七年级要进行基础技能测验。史蒂夫草草地完成了自己的测验，开始像以往那样幻想其他的事情。他的心思根本不在学校，而是在树林里。他经常独自躲藏在那里，试图摆脱酒鬼之家的声响和气味。没有人关心他是否安全，也没有人知道他走开了，因为所有的人都没有心思顾及其他。令人意想不到的是，史蒂夫从没有旷过一次课。
一天，怀特小姐不耐烦的声音打破了他的白日梦。
“史蒂夫！！”史蒂夫吃惊地转过头看着她。
“注意力要集中！”
当怀特小姐开始宣布七年级的测验成绩时，史蒂夫用那种青春期才有的崇敬目光盯着怀特小姐。
她对全班说：“你们考得都很好，只有一个男生例外。告诉你们这些让我感到伤心，可是……”她停下来，眼光转向史蒂夫的座位，用犀利的目光盯着他的脸。
“七年级最聪明的孩子，居然会在我教的科目上不及格！”
她盯着史蒂夫，全班同学也都转过头来看着他。史蒂夫低下头，看着自己的指尖。这件事情之后，战争依然继续！史蒂夫还是不肯做作业。即使受到的惩罚更加严厉，他还是坚持如此。
“只尝试一下！就一个星期！”他无动于衷。
“你非常聪明！你会有很大的变化！”任何话语都奈何不了他。
“给自己一个机会！不要放弃自己的生活。”他还是一切照旧。
“史蒂夫，求求你。我很关心你！”
哇！史蒂夫突然受到了触动！有人关心他？太不可思议了，居然有人关心他？那天下午，史蒂夫心事重重地回家去了。走进屋子之后，他扫视了一下四周，看到父母裸露着身子已经睡了。屋子里的恶臭让人无法忍受！他很快找齐自己的露营装备，拿了一瓶花生酱，一块面包，一瓶水，这次……还有他的课本。他神情严肃，决心已定，朝树林走去。
下周一早上，史蒂夫准时到了学校，等着怀特小姐走进教室。怀特小姐神采飞扬地走进来，脸上带着微笑。天哪！她真是太漂亮了！他希望她能对他微笑，但是她没有。怀特小姐很快决定对周末的家庭作业进行测验。史蒂夫飞快地完成了测验，第一个交了卷子。怀特小姐接过他的卷子，满腹狐疑地批阅起来。史蒂夫回到自己的座位上，心里紧张得怦怦直跳。当他坐下来时，忍不住再次看了一眼这位可爱的女士。
怀特小姐的脸上完全是一副震惊的表情。她匆忙地瞥了史蒂夫一眼，然后又低下了头，接着又再次抬起头来。突然，她的脸上露出了灿烂的笑容。七年级最聪明的男孩第一次通过了测验！
从那一刻起，史蒂夫完全变了一个人。虽然家里的生活还是和从前一样，但他的生活的确发生了变化。他发现自己不但能够学习，而且能够学得很好！他能够理解并牢牢记住知识，还能将学到的知识运用到自己的生活中。史蒂夫开始变得优秀！整个学生生涯，他都在进步。
高中毕业后，史蒂夫加入了海军，并且度过了一段精彩的军旅生涯。那段时间，他邂逅了生命中的最爱，有了自己的家庭，并从马尼亚库姆劳德大学毕业。在他的海军生涯中，他的事迹激励了很多年轻人。假如没有他，这些人可能无法意识到自己的价值。从海军退伍之后，史蒂夫开始了第二阶段的职业生涯。作为附近一所大学的副教授，他继续激励着他人。
怀特小姐留下了一笔宝贵的财富。她挽救了一个男孩，正是这个男孩使许多其他的生命发生了改变。我知道这些，因为我就是他生命中的最爱。
你知道的，完全是一个老师的关心，使一个男孩的内心发生了天翻地覆的变化。
The Difference a Teacher Can Make
Anonymous
Steve, a twelveyearold boy with alcoholic1 parents, was about to be lost forever, by the U.S. education system. Remarkably, he could read, yet, in spite of his reading skills, Steve was failing. He had been failing since first grade, as he was passed on from grade to grade. Steve was a big boy, looking more like a teenager than a twelve year old, yet, Steve went unnoticed... until Miss White came.
Miss White was a smiling, young, beautiful redhead, and Steve was in love！For the first time in his young life, he couldn’t take his eyes off his teacher; yet, still he failed. He never did his homework, and he was always in trouble with Miss White. His heart would break under her sharp words, and when he was punished for failing to turn in his homework, he felt just miserable！ Still, he did not study.
In the middle of the first semester of school, the entire seventh grade was tested for basic skills. Steve hurried through his tests, and continued to dream of other things, as the day wore on. His heart was not in school, but in the woods, where he often escaped alone, trying to shut out the sights, sounds and smells of his alcoholic home. No one checked on him to see if he was safe. No one knew he was gone, because no one was sober enough to care. Oddly, Steve never missed a day of school.
One day, Miss White’s impatient voice broke into his daydreams.
“Steve！！” Startled, he turned to look at her.
“Pay attention！”
Steve locked his gaze on Miss White with adolescent2 adoration, as she began to go over the test results for the seventh grade.
“You all did pretty well,” she told the class,“except for one boy, and it breaks my heart to tell you this, but...” She hesitated, pinning Steve to his seat with a sharp stare, her eyes searching his face.
“The smartest boy in the seventh grade is failing my class！”
She just stared at Steve, as the class spun around for a good look. Steve dropped his eyes and carefully examined his fingertips.
After that, it was war！！ Steve still wouldn’t do his homework. Even as the punishments became more severe, he remained stubborn3.
“Just try it！ ONE WEEK！” He was unmoved.
“You’re smart enough！ You’ll see a change！” Nothing fazed him.
“Give yourself a chance！ Don’t give up on your life！” Nothing.
“Steve！ Please！ I care about you！”
Wow！ Suddenly, Steve got it！！ Someone cared about him？ Someone, totally unattainable and perfect, CARED ABOUT HIM？？！！
Steve went home from school, thoughtful, that afternoon. Walking into the house, he took one look around. Both parents were passed out, in various stages of undress, and the stench was overpowering！ He, quickly, gathered up his camping gear, a jar of peanut4 butter, a loaf of bread, a bottle of water, and this time...his schoolbooks. Grim faced and determined, he headed for the woods.
The following Monday he arrived at school on time, and he waited for Miss White to enter the classroom. She walked in, all sparkle and smiles！God, she was beautiful！He yearned for her smile to turn on him. It did not.
Miss White, immediately, gave a quiz on the weekend homework. Steve hurried through the test, and was the first to hand in his paper. With a look of surprise, Miss White took his paper. Obviously puzzled, she began to look it over. Steve walked back to his desk, his heart pounding within his chest. As he sat down, he couldn’t resist another look at the lovely woman.
Miss White’s face was in total shock！She glanced up at Steve, then down, then up. Suddenly, her face broke into a radiant5 smile. The smartest boy in the seventh grade had just passed his first test！
From that moment nothing was the same for Steve. Life at home remained the same, but life still changed. He discovered that not only could he learn, but he was good at it！He discovered that he could understand and retain knowledge, and that he could translate the things he learned into his own life. Steve began to excel！And he continued this course throughout his school life.
After high school Steve enlisted in the Navy, and he had a successful military career. During that time, he met the love of his life, he raised a family, and he graduated from college Magna Cum Laude. During his naval career, he inspired many young people, who without him, might not have believed in themselves. Steve began a second career after the navy, and he continues to inspire others, as an adjunct6 professor in a nearby college.
Miss White left a great legacy. She saved one boy who has changed many lives. I know, because I am the love of his life.
You see, it’s simple, really. A change took place within the heart of one boy, all because of one teacher, who cared.
不只是一笔奖学金
佚名
你也许听说过那位密西西比州的妇女奥西奥拉.麦卡蒂。已经88岁高龄的她，曾做了75年的洗衣工。退休后的一天，她去了银行，万分惊奇地发现自己每个月微薄的收入积攒下来已经超过了15万美元。而更令人惊奇的是，她转身就把几乎全部的积蓄15万美元作为奖学金捐给了南密西西比州大学，以帮助经济困难的非洲裔美国学生。于是，她成了全国瞩目的新闻人物。
而奥西奥拉的礼物如何影响了我的一生，这是你们从未听说过的。今年19岁的我，是第一位获得奥西奥拉.麦卡蒂奖学金的学生。
我是个很执著的人，我最大的心愿就是去南密西西比州大学读书。奖学金是我上学的唯一途径，然而在入学考试中，我因一分之差与奖学金失之交臂。
一个星期天，我偶然在报纸上看到了有关奥西奥拉.麦卡蒂和她慷慨捐赠的报道。我拿给妈妈看，我们都认为这是一个壮举。
翌日，我就去了经济援助办公室。他们说还是没有可以帮助我的资金，但如果有情况的话，会随时通知我。几天后，我正匆忙出门，准备搭妈妈的车去上班时，电话铃响了。我停下来接电话，听到他们说我被选为奥西奥拉.麦卡蒂奖学金的首位获得者，而此时妈妈还在按着喇叭催我。我感到万分惊喜！我飞快地冲出去告诉了妈妈这个好消息。她为了确认此事，又给办公室打了个电话。
初次见到奥西奥拉是在一次新闻发布会上，当时我看到她就仿佛见到了亲人。奥西奥拉从未结婚也没有孩子，从此我家就成了她的家。我奶奶经常和她通电话聊天，一起做事，她也参加我们的家庭活动。
一次我们聊到了冰淇淋。我们发现奥西奥拉没吃过多少冰淇淋，于是大家全都挤进车里，去了“乳制品皇后”，为她点了她从未吃过的香蕉圣代！如今她能吃到不同口味的冰淇淋了。
奥西奥拉一辈子都很辛苦——从早到晚都在忙着洗衣服。我以前开车去学校时，正好经过她的家。的确，当时我并不知道那是她家，但我注意到她家的草坪保养得很好，而且处处干净整齐。不久前，我问她为何那时从未见过她，她答道：“我猜我一定在后院洗衣服。”
如今，奥西奥拉已经退休了。除了去领奖，白天的大多数时间，她都坐在家里读《圣经》。每次我去看她，她都会领一个新奖。她甚至还去过白宫。她如此开心、自豪，却从不傲慢。我们就告诉她去买一台摄像机，这样她就能把节目录下来，在电视上看到她自己——而她只是面带微笑地坐着。
奥西奥拉给予我的远远超过了一笔奖学金。从她那里，我学到了付出的可贵。现在，我知道世界上有很多做好事的好人。她一生辛劳，最终却将一切奉献给了他人，接着她也鼓励我在有能力时就要懂得回报。最后，我决定为她的奖学金添补资金。
我想给奥西奥拉一个她梦寐以求的家，因此我认她做我的另一位祖母，甚至她也叫我孙女儿。当我大学毕业的时候，她将作为来宾坐在我的母亲和奶奶之间，那是她理所应当坐的位子。
■心灵小语
在生活中，只要稍稍留意，就可以发现那些最美丽的心灵，他们付出了爱，却从不要求回报；他们把生活的希望带给别人，把奉献的快乐留给了自己。
More than a Scholarship
Anonymous
You may have heard of Osceola McCarty. She’s an 88yearold woman in Mississippi who had worked for over 75 years as a washer woman. One day after she retired, she went to the bank and discovered, to her great surprise, that her meager monthly savings had grown to over $150, 000. Then to everyone’s great surprise, she turned around and donated $150,000—almost all of those savings—to the University of Southern Mississippi (USM) for a scholarship fund for AfricanAmerican students with financial needs. She made national headlines.
What you have not heard is how Osceola’s gift had affected my life. I am 19 years old and the first recipient1 of an Osceola McCarty Scholarship.
I was a dedicated student, and I had my heart set on going to USM. But I missed being eligible for a regular scholarship by one point on the entrance exams, and a scholarship was the only way I could attend.
One Sunday, I came across the story in the paper about Osceola McCarty and her generous gift. I showed my mother the article, and we both agreed it was a great thing to have done.
The next day I went to the financial aid office, and they told me there was still no money available for me, but if anything came up they’d call. A few days later, as I was running out the door to catch a ride with my mother to work, the phone rang. I stopped to pick it up, and while I heard my mother honking2 the horn for me to hurry up, they told me I had been chosen to receive the first Osceola McCarty Scholarship. I was ecstatic！ I ran out as fast as I could to tell my mother. She had to call the office again herself to make sure it was true.
I first met Osceola at a press conference—meeting her was like finding family. Osceola never married, nor had children, so my family has since become her family. My grandma and she talk on the phone regularly and do errands together, and she joins us for family functions.
Once we got round to talking about ice cream. We found out Osceola hadn’t had much experience with ice cream, so we all packed into the car and went to the Dairy Queen, where we ordered Osceola her first banana split！ She has ice cream a lot now.
Osceola worked hard her whole life—from early in the morning to sunset—washing clothes by hand. I used to drive right by her house every day on my way to school. Of course, at the time I didn’t know it was her house, but I did notice how well kept the lawn was and how everything was clean and neat. Recently I asked her why I never saw her once in all that time, and she answered, “I guess I was out in back, washing clothes.”
Now that Osceola’s retired, she sits most of the day and reads the Bible. That is, when she’s not getting rewards！ Every time I go visit, she has a new award. She’s even gone to the White House. She is so happy and proud, though not at all conceited. We had to talk her into getting a VCR so she could tape the programs and see herself on TV—she just sits and smiles.
Osceola gave me much more than a scholarship. She taught me about the gift of giving. Now I know there are good people in the world who do good things. She worked her whole life and gave to others, and in turn she has inspired3 me to give back when I can. Eventually I plan to add to her scholarship fund.
I want to give Osceola the family she’s always wanted, so I’ve adopted her as another grandma. She even calls me her granddaughter. And when I graduate from USM, she’ll be sitting in the audience between my mother and my grandmother—right where she belongs.
你有钱包吗？
拉克斯曼.增兰克
这是一个发生在我上学时候的故事，它对我的生活产生了巨大的影响。在这个故事中，没有老师的大喊大叫，没有家庭作业，没有考试，甚至没有功课成绩评定。然而，那却是最有成效的教学方法，只有富有爱心的人才能够做到。
当发现钱包丢了以后，我说的第一句话就是：“我的钱包！放哪里了？”我回想了好几秒钟，然后才想起是落在图书馆了，而且是图书馆的公共洗手间！当时去洗手间的时候，我还看见它在架子上，我记得很清楚。
图书馆现在已经闭馆了，我不得不第二天早晨再去找。第二天一到图书馆，我就看到洗手间里干净明亮，洗手台擦得一尘不染，地板反射出亮光。我仍然记得，那是我第一次痛恨看到洗手间如此干净。我走了出去，看着镜子中的自己，对着面前这个爱忘事的笨蛋摇了摇头。
现在，我只能寄望于洗手间的清洁工能够发现钱包了。于是，我向一位坐在前台看书的上了年纪的夫人走去，我表现得很有礼貌。我问她昨天是否有人在洗手间捡到了一个钱包。她并没有立即回答我，直到读到一个认为可以中断的地方。接着，她眯着眼睛，从鼻梁上架着的厚厚的黑框眼镜后面凝视着我。她轻轻地叹了一口气，缓缓地从舒服的座椅上挣扎下来，走进一个门口不见了。片刻之后，她又回到了前台。
“没有。”
除此之外，她没说其他的。我迅速地向她道谢，然后就走开了。
如果我捡到了一个钱包，里面装着60美元、一张电话卡和许多别人无法使用的私人物品，我会怎么办呢？我的钱包已经丢了，最终，我不得不接受这个事实。
银行卡和证件挂失一周之后，我收到一个神秘的包裹。我确信那就是我的钱包！而且一件物品也没少，这真是令人惊讶！唯一不同的是，我在钱包的一个夹层里发现一张从来没有见过的折叠起来的黄色小纸条。我慢慢地展开那张纸条，一枚铜质的基督徽章掉落到我的手里。那张纸条上写着这样的话：
把这枚徽章永远戴在身上，不管你的宗教信仰是什么。这样，上个星期守护你的天使将会一直伴随你。
这个寄包裹的人甚至没有留下地址，因此，我也不知道应该向谁致谢。我感觉到，这是世界上最珍贵的善良之举。
自从那天开始，我向自己发誓，无论何时，只要我能够做到，我都会去帮助别人，就像帮助我的那个人一样。我要把那个人当作自己的榜样，并且让别人体会到我打开包裹时的那种喜悦之情。
■心灵小语
生活是一面镜子，你对它笑，它也会对着你微笑；你对它哭，它也会对着你哭泣。想让别人怎么对待自己，就怎样来对待别人吧。
Do You Have Your Wallet？
Laksman Frank
This is a story about a learning experience that had a big effect on the way that I live my life. The teacher in the story did not scream, assign homework, give me tests or even grade me on my work. I was taught by one of the most effective methods of teaching, one that only people with lots of love can do.
“My wallet！ Where is it？” were my first words when I found my wallet was missing. I searched my memory for a few good seconds, then realized that I had left my precious1 wallet at the library. Not only did I leave it at the library, but I had left it in the library’s public restroom！ I distinctly remembered seeing it on the shelf as I went to the bathroom.
Because the library was now closed, I had to wait until the next morning to begin my search. When I got there the next day, all I found was a sparkling2 clean restroom, its counters clean and its floors shiny white. This was the first time I could remember ever hating to see a clean bathroom. As I walked out, I looked at myself in the mirror and shook my head at the forgetful fool in front of me.
Now all I could hope for was that the person who cleaned the restroom had found my wallet. So I politely approached an old lady reading her book at the front desk. I asked her if a wallet had been found in the bathroom yesterday. She didn’t answer me until she found a good place to pull herself away from her book. Then she peered at3 me from behind the thick black glasses parked on her nose. Letting out a quiet sigh, she slowly struggled out of her comfortable sitting position. She walked through a door and vanished4 for a moment. Then she came back to the desk.
“No.”
That was that. I quickly thanked her and walked off.
I wondered what I would do if I had found a wallet containing sixty dollars, a phone card and many other irreplaceable5 personal items. Finally, I painfully accepted the fact that my wallet was gone.
A week later, after I had canceled my bank card and reported my license missing, I received a mysterious package in the mail. Sure enough, it was my wallet！ And most amazingly, nothing was missing！ But something was different about it. There was a little yellow sheet of paper folded up in one of the wallet pockets that had not been there before. I slowly unfolded the paper. Into my hand fell a little copper medallion6 of Christ. The letter read something like this:
Always keep this medallion with you, no matter what your religion is, so that the angel that was watching over you last week will always be close.
This person didn’t even leave a return address. So I couldn’t thank whoever it was. I felt that this was an act of pure kindness that was extremely rare.
From that day on, I promised myself that whenever I am in a situation where I can help others the way that this person helped me,I will follow this example and make them as happy as I was when I opened that package！
友好的报答
佚名
1956年，儿子出生时，我与一位年轻女子共住一间病房，那天，她也生了一个儿子。也许是因为我的父母开花店的缘故吧，我们的病房很快就充满了玫瑰花的馨香。
当我第七次收到花束时，我开始不安起来，因为和我同住一屋的安从没收到过。她坐在床边，身子前倾着，欣赏刚刚送来的鲜花。她是个漂亮的少妇，但是，那双褐色的大眼睛里总闪烁着忧郁，让我觉得她经历了太多的人生苦难，年轻的生命有着太多的忧伤，似乎总是只能欣赏别人的花束。
“我在这里一直很愉快，”她似乎看出了我的心思，想让我放心，“我能和你住在一起，不是很幸运吗？”
不过，我仍觉得有些不安，要是能有一种神奇的按钮，一按就能解除她眼中的忧伤就好了。哦，我想，至少我能让她拥有一些鲜花。那天，父母再来看望我时，我便要他们送安一些花。
我和安刚吃完晚饭，鲜花就送来了。
“又给你送花来了。”她笑着说。
“不，这次不是，”我看着卡片说，“这是给你的！”
良久，安凝视着鲜花，用手指轻轻抚摸着浅蓝色的靴形瓷瓶，又温柔地触摸插在瓶中的每一朵娇艳欲滴的玫瑰花，似乎想把这一切深深地铭刻在记忆中。
“我该怎么感谢你呢？”她轻声说道。
我有些局促不安。这只是我的一点点善意而已。1956年出生的儿子成了我们夫妇的独生子。近21年来，他用爱和欢笑充实了我们的生活，让我们感到心满意足。但是，1977年4月复活节的那个早晨，在与癌症进行了漫长而痛苦地搏斗后，他静静地死在我们怀里。
殡仪馆内，我单独与儿子待在一间弥漫着玫瑰花香的屋里。邮递员送来了一小束鲜花，直到后来，我们乘车去公墓的路上，我才看到卡片：“献给约翰.格雷夫斯——与你同天出生在纪念医院的孩子和他的母亲谨上。”
这时，我才认出这个靴形瓷瓶是很多年前我送给一位忧郁的年轻女子的。如今它再一次插满了玫瑰。我和安很早以前就失去了联系。她根本不认识我们的儿子，也不知道他得病。她一定是在报纸上看到讣告了，妈妈坐在我身边，我把卡片递给她，她也想起来了。
“这是一种友好的报答。”妈妈说。
几天后，我和丈夫以及家人去公墓给约翰扫墓。那瓶玫瑰还在高高的花圈和枝丫上放着。
“真奇怪，谁会送这些东西作为葬礼，”有人说道，“它看上去像是祝贺新生的。”
“它是祝贺新生的，”丈夫静静地说，“约翰诞生在永恒的国度了。”我惊讶地看着他，我知道，他从不坦率谈及此事，说出这话很不容易。
他拿出鲜花，递给我那个靴形瓷瓶，我捧着它，就像当年安所做的那样，抚摸着它，思索着它所蕴涵的种种意义，我想，友谊并未随着岁月的流逝而消失；我想起记忆长河中的感激之情；还有更为重要的——新生的希望。此时正是这些在慰藉我们的心灵。
■心灵小语
真正的感激之情并不会随着岁月的流逝而消失，而是如同当初一样鲜活。文中的两位母亲，在生命的偶然邂逅中真诚地给予对方温暖的慰藉，让彼此受伤的心灵得到了抚慰，重新看到了美好的生活。
A Kindness Returned
Anonymous
At the time my son was born in 1956, I shared a hospital room with a young woman who bore a son on the same day. Partly because my parents owned a shop selling flowers, the room was soon filled with the lovely scent of roses.
As the seventh floral arrangement was brought in, I was beginning to feel uncomfortable, for no flowers had arrived for my roommate, Ann. She sat on the edge of her bed and leaned forward to admire the latest bouquet1. She was a pretty young woman, yet there was something about her large, brown eyes that made me think she had known too much struggling, too much sadness for one so young. I had the feeling she had always had to admire someone else’s flowers.
“I’m enjoying every minute of this”, she said as though she had read my thoughts and was trying to reassure me. “Wasn’t I the lucky one to get you for a roommate？”
I still felt uncomfortable, however. If only there were some magic button I could push to take away the sadness in her eyes. Well, I thought, at least I can see that she has some flowers. When my mother and father came to see me that day, I asked them to send her some.
The flowers arrived just as Ann and I were finishing supper.
“Another bouquet for you,” she said, laughing.
“No, not this time,” I said, looking at the card. “These are for you.”
Ann stared at the blossoms a long time, not saying anything. She ran her fingers across the paleblue ceramic2 bootee and lightly touched each of the sweetheart roses nestled inside as though trying to engrave them on her memory.
“How can I ever thank you？” she said softly.
I was almost embarrassed. It was such a little kindness on my part. The son born to my husband and me that day in 1956 turned out to be our only child. For nearly 21 years he filled our lives with love and laughter, making us feel complete. But on Easter morning in April 1977, after a long, painful battle with cancer, he died quietly in our arms.
At the funeral home I was alone with my son in a room filled with the scent of roses, when a delivery man brought in a tiny bouquet. I didn’t read the card until later, as we rode to the cemetery. “To W. John Graves,” the card said, “from the boy who was born with you at Memorial Hospital, and his mother.”
Only then did I recognize the ceramic bootee I had given to a sad young woman so many years ago, now once again filled with roses. Ann and I had 1ong since lost touch. She had never known our son, never been aware of his illness. She must have read the notice of his death in a newspaper. I passed the card on to my mother sitting beside me. She, too, remembered.
“A kindness returned,” Mother said.
A few days later, my husband and I, with several members of our family, went to the cemetery to clear John’s grave. The bootee of roses sat at its foot, towered over by tall wreaths3 and sprays.
“How strange that anyone would send something like that to a funeral,” someone said. “It seems more appropriate for a birth.”
“There was a birth,” said my husband quietly. “John was born into Eternal Life.” I looked at him with surprise, knowing those words were difficult for a man who had never spoken openly about such matters.
He emptied out the flowers and handed me the ceramic bootee. I held it and, just as Ann had done, I traced it with my fingers, thinking of all the messages it contained: the embers of friendship that glow through the years, gratitude remembered and, beneath it all, the promise of resurrection, which comforts us now.
将爱放飞 令爱永存
佚名
从前，有个孤独的女孩非常渴望得到爱。一天，她在丛林中漫步，发现两只快要饿死的鸟儿。她把它们带回家，放进一个小鸟笼里。在她细心照顾下，鸟儿逐渐强壮起来。每天早晨，鸟儿都用美妙的歌声向她道早安。女孩不禁对这两只小鸟产生了深深的爱意。
一天，女孩把鸟笼的门打开了。那只又大又壮的鸟儿飞了出去。女孩很担心它会飞走，再也不回来了。于是当鸟儿飞近时，她拼命抓住它。她非常高兴，鸟儿终于又抓了回来。突然，她感觉鸟儿有些软弱无力。松开手，她诧异地发现鸟儿死在她的手中。是她极端的爱害死了鸟儿。
她发现另一只鸟儿在笼里扇动着翅膀扑来扑去。她感受得到它也十分向往自由，渴望飞向湛蓝的天空。她把它从笼中拿起，轻轻地抛向空中。鸟儿盘旋了好几圈，才肯离去。
看到鸟儿欢快的样子，女孩高兴极了。她的内心不再关心自己的得失。她希望鸟儿幸福。突然，鸟儿飞近了，轻轻落在她的肩头，鸣唱起她从没听过的动人曲调。
牢牢地将爱握于手心只会更快地失去爱；赋予爱一双翅膀，将它放飞，才会令爱永存！
■心灵小语
爱，并不代表紧紧地抓在手中，而是给予广阔的空间，让其自由地飞翔，快乐地歌唱。这样的爱才能带来真正的幸福，才能成为一道永恒的美丽景色！
Let Go Love
Anonymous
There was once a lonely girl who longed so much for love. One day while she was walking in the woods she found two starving songbirds. She took them home and put them in a small cage. She cared them with love and the birds grew strong. Every morning they greeted1 her with a wonderful song. The girl felt great love for the birds.
One day the girl left the door to the cage open. The larger and stronger of the two birds flew from the cage. The girl was so frightened that he would fly away. As he flew close, she grasped him wildly. Her heart felt glad at her success in capturing2 him. Suddenly she felt the bird go limp. She opened her hand and stared in horror at the dead bird. Her desperate love had killed him.
She noticed the other bird moving back and forth on the edge of the cage. She could feel his great need for freedom. He needed to soar into the clear, blue sky. She lifted him from the cage and tossed him softly into the air. The bird circled once, twice, three times.
The girl watched delightedly at the bird’s enjoyment. Her heart was no longer concerned with her loss. She wanted the bird to be happy. Suddenly the bird flew closer and landed softly on her shoulder. He sang the sweetest melody3 that she had ever heard.
The fastest way to lose love is to hold on it too tight, the best way to keep love is to give it wings！
嗨，护士……谢谢你
佚名
“嗨，护士！”
从254号病房传来一个男人高亢而粗犷的声音。刚结束特护区一天繁忙的工作，我抄近路从自动测量技术传导室经过。这些都不是我的病人，因此，我继续走我的路。
“嘿，金发女孩。”
我停住脚步，环顾一下四周。除了我，附近并没有其他护士。于是，我走到254号病房门口，往里看了一眼，发现一个高大的男人坐在床上，他有一张方方正正的脸，神色非常友善。我还没来得及开口，他就说道：“还记得我吗？在四楼病房里，你照顾过我。”
“先生，不好意思，我在特护区工作。您可能认错人了。”
我微笑着祝他下午愉快，然后转身要离开。他粗犷的声音再次让我停住脚步。
“等一下，”他打了个响指，“你叫……噢，让我想想……”
我转过身来，他正看着天花板，脸上带着浅浅的笑容。不一会儿，他转过头来看着我。
“你叫杰姬，对吧？扎着长长的马尾辫，金黄的头发，对不对？”
我愣了一下，很吃惊。
“你说得很对。”说着，我低头看了一眼胸前，看看姓名标牌取下了没有（已经摘下了）。我又用手摸了摸后脑勺，发辫已经挽成髻紧紧盘在脑后了。于是，我仔细地看着他的脸，想从中寻找某些显著特征勾起我的记忆。他有着一双蓝色的眼睛，冷静而明亮，花白的卷发勾勒出他的面部轮廓。
“对不起，我没在四楼工作，我印象中也没你这个人。”
“杰姬，不要紧。能再次见到你，我真的很开心。三个星期前，你来过我的病房。那时，我的心脏停止了跳动，你把那些控制手柄放在我胸口。我记得，当时你大叫着要每个人都做好准备，那些听起来好像是专业术语。后来，你拿起这些控制手柄电击我的胸口，我又活了过来。”
我突然想了起来。那天，我要取一个编码（至于什么编码，我忘记了），就来到他的病房。当时，他的病情十分危急——毫无知觉，瞳孔放大，脸色青紫。
“谁告诉你那天是我救了你呢？”我的好奇心油然而生，又走进他的房间。
他笑了笑，又抬头看着天花板。
“没人告诉我。我是从天花板上看见的。所以，我知道你梳着长长的金色马尾辫。就在你转头看监控器时，我看到了你漂亮的脸蛋。能再次见到你，我真的很高兴。”
他看着我，脸上的微笑不见了。我能看得出他正竭力控制自己的感情。
“我想向你道谢，真的很感谢你……”
现在，我每次经过254号病房时，内心总会涌起一股暖流。那天抄近路经过这里真是一个明智的选择，同时，我也庆幸自己对“嗨，护士”的叫声做出了回应。
■心灵小语
一些看似不经意的小事，有时会成为别人心中永恒的温暖。尽管生活忙忙碌碌，但偶尔驻足或是稍稍改变一下方向，这个举动或许就会成就别人或自己心中永远美丽的瞬间。
Hey, Nurse...Thanks
Anonymous
“Hey, nurse！”
A man’s voice, loud and gruff, was coming from room 254. I was taking a shortcut through the telemetry unit after another busy day in the critical care unit. These weren’t my patients, so I kept going.
“Yo, blondie.”
I stopped and looked around. No other nurses were in sight, so I went to the doorway of room 254 and glanced in. A large man with a big, friendly face was sitting up in the bed. He spoke before I had a chance to open my mouth. “Do you remember me？ You were my nurse on the fourth floor.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I work in the critical1 care unit. You must have me confused with someone else.”
I smiled, wished him a good afternoon and turned to go on my way. His booming voice stopped me again.
“No, wait a minute.” He started snapping his fingers. “Your name is... oh, let me think...”
I turned around to see him looking up at the ceiling, a half smile on his face. Then he looked back at me.
“Jackie, right？ You’ve got a long blonde ponytail, don’t you？”
I was dumb founded.
“Yes.” I said, peeking at my chest to make sure I’d taken off my name tag. (I had.) I reached back and touched the tightly braided2 bun on the back of my head. Then I studied his face, looking for something that might trigger my memory. His eyes were cool, blue and shiny. Curly saltandpepper hair framed his face.
“I’m sorry. I don’t work on the fourth floor, and I just don’t remember you.”
“That’s all right, Jackie. I’m just glad I got to see you again. You came into my room about three weeks ago. My heart stopped dead on me and you put those paddles3 on my chest. I remember you shouting out all these technical sounding words, telling everybody to clear the way. Then you took those paddles and you shocked me back to life.”
Suddenly it dawned on me: I had been in his room for a code I’d forgotten about. He was a different person then—unresponsive, with dilated pupils and a red and blue face.
“Who told you I helped you that day？” I asked, my curiosity pulling me into his room.
He laughed and looked back up at the ceiling.
“Nobody told me. I was up on that ceiling there watching you. That’s how I saw your long, blonde ponytail. And when you turned to look at the monitor4, I saw your beautiful face. I’m so glad I got to see you again.”
He looked down at me, his smile gone. I could see he was struggling with his emotions.
“I wanted to say thanks. Thanks so much...”
Every time I pass room 254 now, a warm feeling wells up inside me. I am grateful for the shortcut I took that day, and for the fact that I answered the call of “Hey, nurse！”
情暖今生
茹涅.吉尔
在雄伟的纽约医院。午夜早已过去，我站在九楼病房的窗前，身上裹着暖和的羊毛大衣，默默地凝视着窗外的第59街大桥。它如同圣诞树般闪烁着美丽的光芒。对我而言，纽约城永远都是那么特别，有百老汇大剧院、音乐以及形形色色、不同档次的餐馆。“这个城市本就应该是这样。”我想着，早晨的到来和其伴随的未知状况使我惊恐不安。然而早晨终究来临，那天是3月17日。上午九点，我被推进手术室。再次被推回疗养室时，已经过去11个小时零45分钟了。没过几个小时，我就被送回自己的病房。我发现自己居然可以站起来，并可以在家人和医疗器械的帮助下行走。遵医嘱，我要在医院的长廊里走上一个往返。
那是我第一次见到他。由于药物和疼痛的影响，我看着他，感觉一切模糊而毫无真实感。他站在一间病房门口。在我模糊的眼中，他不像是一个完整的人影，而是如鬼魂一般。然而，不知何故，我还是从这个身影的肢体语言中感受到了他对我的同情和鼓励。
接下来的三周，在走廊里行走成了我每日的例行功课。我的力气稍微恢复后，每次在一两个家人的帮助下穿过走廊时，他都会站在那里，微笑着向我点头。第四周时，我可以独立在走廊中走了。当我走过他的房间时，我看到那位忠实的朋友就站在门口。他肤色较暗，身材瘦削。我停下来与他攀谈起来。他向我介绍了他的妻儿，他的儿子正虚弱地躺在病床上。次日，我照常进行练习，他走出病房，陪我走到我房间。他解释说，他和妻子带着年轻的孩子从伊朗充满希望地来到这家医院。他们依然充满希望，但情况并未好转。他告诉我，在我手术后的那个难熬的夜晚，我努力行走的情形，深深地鼓舞了他，他也在默默地支持我。之后的三周里，我们常常聊天，相互关心鼓励。他说看到我的家人都在关心支持我，感到很开心。而每当我想到他们这个小家庭远离家乡的孤独时，总会悲伤不已。
难以置信的是，有一天，医生对我说，明天就可以出院了。晚上我把这个消息告诉了我的朋友。次日早晨，他来到我的房间。其实，那天我起得很早，并换好了衣服。鲜亮的黄色衣服给了我希望，看起来总算有了人样。我们聊了一会儿。我告诉他我会为他的儿子祈祷。他谢过我，却满是绝望地耸了耸肩。我们都明白永远不会再见到对方了。悲伤的他也为我感到开心。我感受到了他的这份关爱。他握着我的手说：“你就像是我的妹妹。”我回答说：“你就是我的哥哥。”之后，他转身离开了。
家人来接我时，医生和护士们都向我道别并千叮咛万嘱咐出院后的注意事项。一切都很顺利。七个半星期前，我惶恐不安地走进了医院的病房，而如今，我终于离开了这里。
沿着走廊向电梯走去时，我看到我哥哥就站在病房门口，微笑着向我点点头，传达着他的祝福。
14年前的今天，也就是1990年3月17日，我走进了手术室。而自从我和哥哥最后一次见面后，世界发生了翻天覆地的变化。但我依然常常想起他，我相信我一直在他心里，而他也永远在我的心中。我仍记得他那充满热情的深褐色眼睛，以及我们曾许下要成为兄妹的诺言。那一瞬间，我深信圣灵就徘徊在我们身边，微笑着点头，将祝福赐予我们，因为他明白我们不分彼此。
这些年来，多少次，我都在深思，为什么人在最脆弱时所认识的朋友会是最亲密的，或是会与对方有如此紧密的联系。我想那是因为当我们面临失业、危及生命的疾病或无论多大的灾祸时，都会放弃所有的自负，向身边的人敞开心扉，接受他人的关爱和善意——就像孩子般无忧无虑，并满怀感激地接受爱。这种爱无种族、肤色、信仰之分，因为它，那双深褐色的眼睛与这双蓝色的眼睛相遇，并许下了永远相互关爱的诺言。
■心灵小语
本文的主人公在最脆弱的时候得到了一位陌生人的鼓励，而倍加坚信自己会康复。她的这种精神从而又鼓舞了那位陌生人，这种互相关心、互相鼓励之情深深扎根在主人公的心里，并对这位陌生人的祝福和帮助心怀感激。
The Gift
Junie Girl
It was well after midnight, wrapped in my warm fleecy robe I stood silently staring out the ninth floor window of the daunting New York hospital. I was staring at the 59th Street Bridge. It was as sparkling and beautiful as a Christmas tree. New York city has always been special to me： the Broadway theatre, the music, the restaurants from the deli’s to the TavernOntheGreen. “This is what the city is supposed to be about,” I thought, dreading the morning to come and all the uncertainty it held. But the morning did come and at nine a.m. on that March 17th, I was wheeled into an operating room. Eleven hours and fortyfive minutes later I was wheeled into a recovery room, and a very few hours after being returned to my own hospital room, I found myself actually on my feet, half walking, half propelled by medical equipment and members of my family. The orders were to walk the length and back of the long hospital corridor.
It was then that I first saw him. I saw him through a haze of drugs, pain and the dreamy unreality that this could be happening to me. He was standing in the doorway of a hospital room. In my twilight, unfocused state I saw him almost as a spirit shape rather than a full blown person. Yet the body language of this shape was somehow sending out sympathy and encouragement to me.
This became my daily routine for the next three weeks. As I gained a little more strength the man would be standing in the doorway, smiling and nodding as I would pass with one or more members of my family. On the fourth week I was allowed to solo up the corridor. As I passed his room, there was my faithful friend in the doorway. He was a slender dark complexioned man. I stopped a minute to chat. He introduced me to his wife, and his son who was lying listlessly in a hospital bed. The next day as I made my scheduled walk, he came out and walked with me to my room. He explained that he and his wife had brought their teenage son to this hospital of hope from Iran. They were still hoping, but things were not going well. He told me of how I had encouraged him on that first dreadful night’s walking tour and how he was rooting for me. For three more weeks we continued our conversations—each giving the other the gift of caring and friendship. He told me of how he enjoyed seeing my family as they rallied around me and I was saddened by the loneliness of that small family so far from home.
Miraculously, there did come a day when the doctor told me I would be discharged the following morning. That night I told my friend. The next morning he came to my room. I had been up and dressed since dawn. My bright yellow dress gave me hope and I almost looked human. We talked a bit. I told him I would pray for his son. He thanked me but shrugged his shoulders, indicating the hopelessness. We knew we would never see each other again in this world. This man in his sorrow was so happy for me. I felt his love. He took my hand and said, “You are my sister.” I answered back and said, “You are my brother.” He turned and left the room.
My family came to retrieve me. Doctors and nurses to say their goodbyes and give orders. All business had been taken care of. After seven and a half weeks I was leaving the hospital room I had walked into with so much trepidation.
As I turned to walk down the corridor to the elevator, my brother stood in the doorway, smiling, nodding and giving his blessing.
It was 14 years ago today on March 17th 1990 that I entered that operating room and much has happened to the world since my brother and I said our last farewell. Yet I think of him often and he is always in my heart as I feel I am in his. I remember his intense, dark brown eyes as we pledged ourselves as brother and sister. At that moment, I knew without a doubt that the Spirit of God hovered over us smiling, nodding and blessing us with the knowledge that we are all one.
Many times I have pondered over the years why we humans meet our dearest friends or bond so deeply with another person when we are most vulnerable. I think it is because when we face a life threatening illness, job loss, whatever the catastrophe may be; we are left completely without any pretension and our hearts and souls are open to those around us and we are able to accept the love and kindnesses of others—almost as freely and thankfully as children accept love. This kind of love is blind to race, color and creed and leads to a pair of dark brown eyes seeking a pair of very blue eyes and pledging a love that will last through time.
生活中的“砖头”
佚名
一位年轻有为的总裁，驾驶他崭新的Jaguar车快速经过住宅区。在路边玩耍的孩子随时都可能跑到路中央，他必须十分小心，感觉孩子要跑出来时，就放慢车速。
就在这时，一个孩子突然出现在路旁，将一块砖头扔过来砸在他的车门上，他愤怒地急踩刹车，并将车后退到丢出砖头的地方。
他从车上跳下来，抓起那个小孩，将他按在车门上嚷道：“刚才是怎么回事？你是谁？你知道自己刚刚做了什么吗？”他气愤地继续吼着：“你知道你得赔多少钱才能修好这辆新车吗？你为什么要这样做呢？”
“很对不起，先生，我不知道我还能怎么做。”小孩乞求道。
他继续说：“我哥哥从轮椅上摔了下来，我抱不动他。”
男孩哭着问总裁：“您愿意帮我把哥哥抬到轮椅上去吗？他受伤了。他太重我抱不动。”
这些话深深地打动了年轻的总裁，他把那个受伤的哥哥抱回轮椅上。并拿出手帕为他擦拭伤口，看一下伤口是否有什么大问题。
“谢谢您，先生，上帝保佑您。”小男孩感激地说。总裁望着男孩推着哥哥回家了。
对于他的Jaguar来说，返回的路似乎变得极为漫长。他没有修车门，让保留在车上的凹痕时刻提醒自己：不要在生活的道路上走得过于匆忙，那样别人只好向你扔砖头，引起你的注意。
当生命想与你的心灵窃窃私语，有时，你会没有时间去聆听……那么砖头就会落到你的头上，提醒你注意！
有两种选择摆在你面前：聆听心灵的声音或者等待砖头降临！
有时你会忽略深爱的人，那是因为你在生命的道路上行进太快，而无暇考虑是否真的爱他们？
“TheBrick”in Life
Anonymous
A young and successful executive was traveling down a neighborhood street, going a bit too fast in his new Jaguar. He was watching for kids darting out from between parked cars and slowed down when he thought he saw something.
As his car passed, one child appeared, and a brick smashed into the Jag’s side door. He slammed on the brakes and spun the Jag back to the spot from where the brick had been thrown.
He jumped out of the car, grabbed that kid and pushed him up against a parked car, shouting, “What was that all about and who are you？ Just what the heck are you doing？” Building up a head of steam, he went on “That’s a new car and that brick you threw is gonna cost a lot of money. Why did you do it？”
“Please, mister, please, I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do！” pleaded the youngster.
“It’s my brother, ” he said. “He rolled off the curb and fell out of his wheelchair and I can’t lift him up.
Sobbing, the boy asked the executive, “Would you please help me get him back into his wheelchair？ He’s hurt and he’s too heavy for me.”
Moved beyond words, the driver tried to swallow the rapidly swelling lump in his throat. He lifted the young man back into the wheelchair and took out his handkerchief and wiped the scrapes and cuts, checking to see that everything was going to be okay.
“Thank you, sir. And God bless you,” the grateful child said to him. The man then watched the little boy push his brother to the sidewalk toward their home.
It was a long walk backs to his Jaguar... a long, slow walk. He never did repair the side door. He kept the dent to remind him not to go through life so fast that someone has to throw a brick at you to get your attention.
Life whispers in your soul and speaks to your heart. Sometimes, when you don’t have the time to listen， life throws a brick at your head.
It’s your choice: listen to the whispers of your soul or wait for the brick！
Do you sometimes ignore loved ones because your life is too fast and busy leaving them to wonder whether you really love them？
另一种快乐
佚名
天正下着毛毛雨，我和姐姐吉尔从卫理公会教堂跑出来，一心只想快点回家，玩圣诞老人送给我们和小妹莎伦的玩具礼物。灰狗长途汽车会在教堂对面的泛美加油站停靠。因为那天是圣诞节，加油站没营业，但我却发现有一家人站在紧闭的加油站门外。他们挤在狭窄的檐篷下，尽量避免被雨淋湿。我的脑海中忽然闪现出一个问题：他们为什么要站在那儿呢？但在追赶吉尔时，这个疑问很快便被抛至脑后了。
其实到家后根本没时间让我们尽情摆弄礼物，因为马上要去爷爷奶奶家共进一年一度的圣诞大餐。我们的车路经刚才那个街区时，我看到那家人仍站在紧闭的加油站门外。
爸爸的车速很慢，越接近去爷爷奶奶家的岔路口，车子就越慢。突然，爸爸在公路中间，来了个180度大转弯，原路返回，他说：“我实在不忍心！”
“什么？”妈妈问他。
“那几个站在泛美加油站门外淋雨的人，他们还带着小孩呢。今天是圣诞节，我怎么能忍心呢。”
爸爸把车停在了加油站旁边，我看见那一家共有五口人：父母和三个孩子——两个女孩，一个小男孩。
爸爸把车窗摇了下来，对他们说:“圣诞快乐！”
“你好!”那个男人答道。他个子高高的，把腰稍微弯下来往我们车里看。
我和吉尔、莎伦盯着那几个小孩看，他们也看着我们。
“你们是在等车吗？”爸爸问。
男人说是，他们准备去伯明翰，他有个哥哥在那边，而且希望能在那找份工作。
“汽车至少得几个小时后才能来，站在这等你们都会淋湿的。往前几英里是温邦车站，那儿有个遮棚，可以避雨，还有板凳坐。”爸爸说，“要不你们上车，我把你们捎到那儿吧。”
男人想了想，然后示意家人过来。他们钻进车里，除了身上穿的衣服，没有任何行李。
等他们坐好了，爸爸回过头来问那几个孩子，圣诞老人有没有找到他们。三张阴郁的脸无声地告诉了他答案。
“不会吧，”爸爸边说边眨眼暗示妈妈，“早上我遇到圣诞老人了，他说找不到你们，就把要给你们的礼物先寄存在我们家了。现在咱们就去拿吧，一会儿我再把你们送到车站去。”
三个孩子顿时神采飞扬，在座位上欢呼雀跃起来。
到了我家，一下车，那三个孩子进了大门就直奔圣诞树下的礼物。其中一个小女孩看到了吉尔的洋娃娃，立刻把它抱在怀里。我记得那小男孩把莎伦的小球抓去了，而另外一个女孩则把我的一件礼物挑走了。这是很久以前的事了，至今我仍记忆犹新，因为那个圣诞节，我和我的姐妹们感受到了使别人快乐的愉悦。
妈妈看到他们家老二穿着短袖的裙子，便把吉尔唯一的毛衣送给了她。
爸爸邀请他们一起去爷爷奶奶家吃圣诞大餐。不论怎么劝说，他们还是坚持谢绝了我们的好意。
回到车上，返回温邦的路上爸爸问那个男人是否有买车票的钱。
他说他哥哥把车票寄来了。
爸爸把口袋里仅有的两美元掏了出来，那是我们熬到下次发工资前的所有钱，他却把它塞给了那个男人。男人想把钱推回来，但爸爸坚持要他收下。“等你们到伯明翰时已经很晚了，路上孩子们会饿的。收下吧，我以前也曾一贫如洗，我理解，让家人挨饿的滋味很难受。”
把他们送到温邦的车站后，我们便离开了。我透过车窗望了他们好久，看着那个小女孩抱着她的新洋娃娃。
■心灵小语
通往快乐的道路有很多条，我们偶尔也要改变一下方向，选择另一条通往快乐的路。文中并不富裕的一家人，慷慨地把自己的生活费送给了更需要它的人。然而，他们并没有因此而感到失落，而是为了能够帮到别人而感到更加幸福。
Christmas Morning
Anonymous
A light drizzle was falling as my sister Jill and I ran out of the Methodist Church, eager to get home and play with the presents that Santa had left for us and our baby sister Sharon. Across the street from the church was a Pan American gas station where the Greyhound bus stopped. It was closed for Christmas, but I noticed a family standing outside the locked door, huddled under the narrow overhang in an attempt to keep dry. I wondered briefly why they were there but then forgot about them as I raced to keep up with Jill.
Once we got home, there was barely time to enjoy our presents. We had to go off to our grandparents’ house for our annual Christmas dinner. As we drove down the highway through town, I noticed that the family was still there, standing outside the closed gas station.
My father was driving very slowly down the highway. The closer we got to the turnoff for my grandparents’ house, the slower the car went. Suddenly, my father Uturned in the middle of the road and said, “I can’t stand it！”
“What？” asked my mother.
“It’s those people back there at the Pan Am, standing in the rain. They’ve got children. It’s Christmas. I can’t stand it.”
When my father pulled into the service station, I saw that there were five of them: the parents and three children—two girls and a small boy.
My father rolled down his window. “Merry Christmas,” he said.
“Howdy,” the man replied. He was very tall and had to stoop slightly to peer into the car.
Jill, Sharon, and I stared at the children, and they stared back at us.
“You waiting on the bus？” my father asked.
The man said that they were. They were going to Birmingham, where he had a brother and prospects of a job.
“Well, that bus isn’t going to come along for several hours, and you’re getting wet standing here. Winborn’s just a couple miles up the road. They’ve got a shed with a cover there, and some benches,” my father said. “Why don’t you all get in the car and I’ll run you up there.”
The man thought about it for a moment, and then he beckoned to his family. They climbed into the car. They had no luggage, only the clothes they were wearing.
Once they settled in, my father looked back over his shoulder and asked the children if Santa had found them yet. Three glum faces mutely gave him their answers.
“Well, I didn’t think so,” my father said, winking at my mother, “because when I saw Santa this morning, he told me that he was having trouble finding you all, and he asked me if he could leave your toys at my house. We’ll just go get them before I take you to the bus stop.”
All at once, the three children’s faces lit up, and they began to bounce around in the back seat, laughing and chattering.
When we got out of the car at our house, the three children ran through the front door and straight to the toys that were spread out under our Christmas tree. One of the girls spied Jill’s doll and immediately hugged it to her breast. I remember that the little boy grabbed Sharon’s ball. And the other girl picked up something of mine. All this happened a long time ago, but the memory of it remains clear. That was the Christmas when my sisters and I learned the joy of making others happy.
My mother noticed that the middle child was wearing a shortsleeved dress, so she gave the girl Jill’s only sweater to wear.
My father invited them to join us at our grandparents’ for Christmas dinner, but the parents refused. Even when we all tried to talk them into coming, they were firm in their decision.
Back in the car, on the way to Winborn, my father asked the man if he had money for bus fare.
His brother had sent tickets, the man said.
My father reached into his pocket and pulled out two dollars, which was all he had left until his next payday. He pressed the money into the man’s hand. The man tried to give it back, but my father insisted. “It’ll be late when you get to Birmingham, and these children will be hungry before then. Take it. I’ve been broke before, and I know what it’s like when you can’t feed your family.”
We left them there at the bus stop in Winborn. As we drove away, I watched out the window as long as I could, looking back at the little girl hugging her new doll.
吉莱斯皮先生的天使
安杰拉.斯特吉尔
我上七年级的时候，在镇上的一家当地医院做义工。夏天，我自愿每周工作30到40个小时。通常，我都跟吉莱斯皮先生在一起。从来都没人探望过他，也没人关心过他的情况。大多时候，我总是握着他的手，跟他说话，帮他做一切需要做的事。他成了我一个亲近的朋友，即使他的反应也仅仅是偶尔捏一下我的手。他一直处于昏迷状态。
我和父母去度假，离开了一个星期，我回来时，吉莱斯皮先生不见了。我没有勇气去问护士他的去向，我害怕他们也许会告诉我，他已经去世了，所以许多问题都没问。我继续利用八年级的时间自愿待在这里。
多年以后，我上高三时，在一个加油站注意到了一张似曾相识的面容。当我认出他时，眼中充满了泪水。他还活着！我鼓起勇气问他是不是叫吉莱斯皮先生，是否昏迷过五年。他的脸上流露出不确定的表情，回答了是。我解释我是怎么认识他，在医院里我花很多时间跟他说话。他的眼中顿时充盈着泪水，他给了我一个我所得到的最温暖的拥抱。他开始告诉我，他昏迷时，能听到我说的话，能感觉到我一直握着他的手。他觉得陪在他身边的人完全是一个天使，而非人类。吉莱斯皮先生坚信是我的声音和抚爱使他活了下来。
之后，他告诉我他身上发生的事，以及他昏迷的原因。我们都哭了，相互拥抱着说了再见，又踏上了各自的路。
虽然自此以后，我再没见过他，但他使我的心每天都充满快乐。我知道，在他徘徊在生死边缘时，我起了特殊的作用。更重要的是，他使我的生命有了巨大改变。我永远无法忘记他，以及他为我所做的事：他使我成了一个天使。
An Angle to Mr. Gillespie
Angela Sturgill
When I was in seventh grade, I was a candy striper at a local hospital in my town. I volunteered1 about thirty to forty hours a week during the summer. Most of the time I spent there was with Mr. Gillespie. He never had any visitors, and nobody seemed to care about his condition. I spent many days there holding his hand and talking to him, helping with anything that needed to be done. He became a close friend of mine, even though he responded with only an occasional squeeze2 of my hand. Mr. Gillespie was in a coma3.
I left for a week to vacation with my parents, and when I came back, Mr. Gillespie was gone. I didn’t have the nerve to ask any of the nurses where he was, for fear they might tell me he had died. So with many questions unanswered, I continued to volunteer there through my eighthgrade year.
Several years later, When I was a junior in high school, I was at the gas station when I noticed a familiar face. When I realized who it was, my eyes filled with tears. He was alive！ I got up the nerve to ask him if his name was Mr. Gillespie, and if he had been in a coma about five years ago. With an uncertain look on his face, he replied yes. I explained how I knew him, and that I had spent many hours talking with him in the hospital. His eyes welled up with tears, and he gave me the warmest hug I had ever received.
He began to tell me how, as he lay there comatose4, he could hear me talking to him and could feel me holding his hand the whole time. He thought it was an angel, not a person, who was there with him. Mr. Gillespie firmly believed that it was my voice and touch that had kept him alive.
Then he told me about his life and what happened to him to put him in the coma. We both cried for a while and exchanged a hug, said our goodbyes and went our separate ways.
Although I haven’t seen him since, he fills my heart with joy every day. I know that I made a difference between his life and his death. More importantly, he has made a tremendous5 difference in my life. I will never forget him and what he did for me: he made me an angel.
难忘的恶作剧
佚名
一天，我们大学里一个年轻的学生和一位教授一起散步。这位仁慈的教授常称呼学生为朋友，他对那些急切希望得到指教的学生非常友善。
散步途中，他们看到一双旧鞋放在路边，便猜测鞋子可能是某个在附近田地里劳作的穷人的，他们想他一天的劳动也该结束了。
学生转过头对教授说：“我们捉弄他一下吧。先把他的鞋藏起来，然后躲到灌木丛后面，等着看他找不到鞋子时会是怎样困惑的表情。”
“年轻的朋友，”教授答道，“我们永远不该以损害穷人为代价，来换取自己的快乐。如果你富有，就应该去帮助穷人，那样会让你获得更大的快乐。我们在每只鞋里各放一枚硬币，然后躲起来看他对这一意外发现有何反应。”
学生按教授说的做了，然后他们躲到附近的灌木丛中。
很快，那个穷人劳动结束了，他从田地走出来，来到放外套和鞋子的小路上。他边穿外套，边把一只脚伸到鞋子里，感觉到鞋里有硬东西，他便弯下腰摸摸看是什么东西，结果他摸到了那枚硬币。
他吃惊地看着那枚硬币，翻转过去又看了看。然后，他扫视了一下周围，一个人影都看不到。他把这枚硬币装进口袋，又去穿另一只鞋。结果又发现了另一枚硬币，他更惊讶了。
他感动极了，双膝跪地，仰望上苍，大声地表达着自己的感激之情，正是陌生人的解囊相助使他患病无助的妻子和食不果腹的孩子有了新的希望。
那个学生被深深地感动了，他的眼里饱含着泪水。“喏，”教授说，“这难道不比搞恶作剧更令你快乐吗？”
年轻人答道：“您给我上的这堂课我将永生难忘。现在我终于明白了那句我一直都不理解的话：‘给予比接受更幸福。’”
A Trick
Anonymous
A young man, a student in one of our universities, was one day taking a walk with a professor, who was commonly called the students’ friend, for his kindness to those who waited on his instructions.
As they went along, they saw lying in the path a pair of old shoes, which they supposed to belong to a poor man who was employed in a field close by, and who had nearly finished his day’s work.
The student turned to the professor, saying, “Let us play the man a trick: we will hide his shoes, and conceal ourselves behind those bushes, and wait to see his perplexity1 when he cannot find them.”
“My young friend,” answered the professor,“we should never amuse2 ourselves at the expense of the poor. But you are rich, and may give yourself a much greater pleasure by means of the poor man. Put a coin into each shoe, and then we will hide ourselves and watch how the discovery affects him.”
The student did so, and they both placed themselves behind the bushes close by.
The poor man soon finished his work, and came across the field to the path where he had left his coat and shoes. While putting on his coat he slipped his foot into one of his shoes; but feeling something hard, he stooped down3 to feel what it was, and found the coin.
Astonishment4 and wonder were seen upon his countenance. He gazed upon5 the coin, turned it round, and looked at it again and again. He then looked around him on all sides, but no person was to be seen. He now put the money into his pocket, and proceeded to put on the other shoe; but his surprise was doubled on finding the other coin.
His feelings overcame him; he fell upon his knees, looked up to heaven and uttered aloud a fervent6 thanksgiving, in which he spoke of his wife, sick and helpless, and his children without bread, whom the timely bounty7, from some unknown hand, would save from perishing.
The student stood there deeply affected, and his eyes filled with tears. “Now,” said the professor, “are you not much better pleased than if you had played your intended trick？”
The youth replied, “You have taught me a lesson which I will never forget. I feel now the truth of those words, which I never understood before:‘It is more blessed8 to give than to receive.’”
梅罗普的奖励
佚名
梅罗普是七个漂亮的姐妹中最文静也最不引人注意的一个。她已习惯并心甘情愿做配角。“每个人都很关注她们，”她想，“所以她们要努力做得更完美。没有人关注我，我做得差不多就可以了。”
她的姐妹们总是受到各种各样年轻男子的青睐，他们迷恋、崇拜并追求她们。梅罗普只能静静地待在角落里看他们来来往往，并为姐妹们的幸福而高兴。闲着没事儿时，她就读书写字，并且写下了许多幻想中的生活：她想象着如果自己和姐妹们一样漂亮迷人、大方出众，她的生活会如何如何。
其他六个姐妹都对梅罗普深表同情，因为她们也都认为自己很漂亮，而在她们看来，梅罗普只是可爱。她们享受着生活的欢愉，而梅罗普那梦幻般的面容，却丝毫不能引起人们的兴趣。她似乎只沉湎于她的梦幻世界，而让人误以为她对现实生活极不满意。
年轻男子络绎不绝，姐妹们的心情也随之飘忽不定。只有一张男子的脸，是梅罗普能经常看到的，那人叫西绪福斯，是个泥瓦匠，他正在梅罗普家的房子周围砌石墙。她的姐妹们从不会正眼瞧他一下，因为他穿得很寒酸，且从不带礼物给她们，他总是从后门进入厨房，然后让梅罗普找她父亲，问石墙确切应该砌在什么位置。
梅罗普注意到，西绪福斯对她十分尊重，当问她怎么做的时候总是诚心诚意的。偶尔，他会带一小桶草莓或一袋苹果给她，这些都是他闲逛时采摘的。而梅罗普总会红着脸接受这些礼物。她的姐妹们便嘲笑她，对那些礼物不屑一顾，因为她们身边的那些年轻男子常给她们带些金银珠宝、玫瑰花、装饰带和皮具等贵重物品。
但是文静的梅罗普却为这些朴实的礼物而激动。“宝石谁都会买，”她对姐妹们说，“玫瑰花和皮具任何人也都可以买，但是在烈日下花整整一上午或一下午的时间，忍受蚊蝇叮咬去采摘果子，却不是人人都可以做得到的，更别提那些纨绔子弟了。”对于她的话，姐妹们只是一笑了之，笑声明显不像以往那么畅快。
一天下午，梅罗普的父亲和西绪福斯一起去了农田，想向他解释围墙应砌在什么位置。不一会儿，西绪福斯浑身湿漉漉的，把梅罗普的父亲背回了厨房。父亲浑身湿透，似乎失去了知觉。西绪福斯把他放在桌子上，大声叫梅罗普拿来干净的毛巾和白兰地酒。
父亲呷了几口烈酒，便气喘吁吁地讲了事情的经过。原来梅罗普的父亲手拿六分仪边测量边往后退，一不小心掉进了她家旁边那条水流湍急的深水河里，幸亏西绪福斯立即跳入河中，把他从冰冷的河水中救了上来。
父亲苏醒后，对西绪福斯感激不尽，并许诺:西绪福斯可以娶他的任何一个女儿为妻。他把女儿们都叫到书房，其中六个哭闹着不情愿，都认为西绪福斯配不上她们。梅罗普像往常一样站在角落里，微笑着，默不作声。
父亲很生气，责备女儿们没有良心，西绪福斯救了他的命，理所应当得到她们的爱。听了父亲的斥责，她们不再哭闹，只是抽泣着，板着脸，红肿着眼睛，一声不吭地呆立在那儿。
西绪福斯微笑着，谨慎地做着自己的选择，他的目光落在梅罗普身上，说道：“先生，我想选择梅罗普，娶她为妻。”姐妹们猛地抬起头，刚才的恐惧感顿时被欣喜或者说是失望所取代。
“你宁可选择梅罗普也不选择我们？”大姐简直不敢相信自己的耳朵，“你难道瞎了眼吗？”
父亲又严厉地呵斥了她们，除了梅罗普，其余的姐妹都离开了书房。“西绪福斯，我很高兴把梅罗普嫁给你，但是，你必须告诉我，为什么选她而不选我其他的女儿呢？”
“先生,”泥瓦匠解释说，“你的每个女儿都美貌出众，这是毫无疑问的。但是如果没有人追求她们，她们的美丽就会褪色，她们的光彩也会渐渐消退且不堪一击。然而梅罗普的美丽源于善良的心灵，聪明的头脑，这种美是永远不会褪色的。我认为她是我的最佳选择，先生！”
西绪福斯和梅罗普结婚了，随着时间的流逝，他的预言真的得到了证实，梅罗普的姐妹们都失去了往日的美丽容颜，不再是男人们追求的对象，她们越来越感到了苦闷，终日不出家门，也不再有男人登门拜访,与她们共度美好时光。
在西绪福斯的爱情滋润下，梅罗普变得越来越光彩迷人，她写的幻想故事给两个人的生活平添了许多乐趣——他们一人写作，一人欣赏——幸福快乐地白头偕老。
Merope’s Reward
Anonymous
Of the seven beautiful ones, Merope was the quietest and the easiest to overlook. She herself became accustomed to blending into the background, and found a way to content herself with that. “Everyone is always watching them,” she thought, “so they have to be perfect. No one watches me, I can settle for being good.”
Her sisters went through the world being cherished and adored and sought after by all manner of young men. Merope watched the parade pass by her quiet corner, pleased that it made her sisters happy. To amuse herself, she learned to read and write and began writing down her fantasies of what her life would be like if she were as beautiful and brilliant as her siblings1.
The other six pitied Merope, for while they thought themselves beautiful； to them she was only pretty. Where they were vibrant with the joy of life, Merope wore a dreamy countenance that many found uninviting. She seemed so taken with the world of her dreams that they assumed she was unhappy with her lot.
The young men continued to come and go, changing as frequently as her sisters’ whims. The only male face Merope saw with any regularity was Sisyphus, the mason who was building a stone wall around their property. Her sisters paid him no heed, for he didn’t wear fine clothes and didn’t bring them gifts. He would come into the kitchen through the back door and would ask Merope to find her father for him to answer some question or other about the exact placement of the wall.
Merope noticed that Sisyphus treated her with complete respect, and seemed to genuinely care when he asked how she was. On occasion, he would bring her a bucket of berries or a bag of apples he’d found in his wanderings, and Merope would blush as she accepted these gifts. Her sisters laughed at her, and the gifts from Sisyphus, for the flocks of young men who swarmed2 about her sisters offered them jewels and roses, lace and furs.
But the quiet Merope was inwardly thrilled by these homely tributes3. “Anyone can buy a ruby,” she told them, “anyone can buy a rose or a fur. But not one of those dandies would spend a morning or an afternoon collecting fruit in the broiling sun, being tortured by buzzing, biting flies for one of you.“ Her sisters laughed at that, but a little less brilliantly than they had before.
One afternoon, Merope’s father went out into the fields with Sisyphus, to explain to him where he wanted the fence placed. A short time later, a soaked Sisyphus carried the unconscious, equally drenched man into the kitchen and laid him on the table. He barked orders to Merope, telling her to find clean towels and fetch some brandy.
The story was told in gasps, between sips of the strong liquor. Her father had been backing up, holding a sextant4 to his eye, and had fallen into the deep, swift river that ran along the edge of their property. Sisyphus had immediately plunged in after him, and had pulled him from the cold water.
After he recovered, the grateful man offered Sisyphus any one of his daughters for his wife. The daughters were summoned to his study, six of them crying and protesting that Sisyphus was unworthy. Merope took her customary place in the corner, smiling serenely 5and saying nothing.
Their father became angry and told the girls sharply that they were being ungrateful and that Sisyphus had proven himself worthy without a doubt by saving his life. At his admonition, their cries became sniffles6, and they sat quietly, swolleneyed and sullen.
Sisyphus surveyed his choices and smiled when his eyes landed upon Merope. “I would have Merope, sir. Merope will be my wife.” Her sisters’ heads snapped up, and where there had been dread a moment before, there was now jubilation7 and chagrin in quick succession.
“You would prefer Merope over us？” the eldest asked incredulously. “Have you no eyes to see？”
Their father spoke harshly again, and all the sisters but Merope left the room. “Sisyphus, I am happy to give you Merope’s hand in marriage, but I must know why you chose her but not one of my other daughters.”
“Sir,” the mason explained, “your daughters are brilliant beauties, that no one can deny. But their beauty will fade and their brilliance will become brittle and bitter when they realize they are no longer desirable. But Merope’s beauty is of the spirit, and that will not fade. Her brilliance is of the mind, and that will not fade. I think I made the wisest choice from among all of your daughters, sir.”
So Merope and Sisyphus were married, and over time, his prophecy came to pass. Merope’s sisters lost their beauty and ceased to be the quarry of young men’s quest for love. They became bitter and morose, locked in their father’s house with no more gentleman callers to pass the hours with them.
Merope glowed in the light of Sisyphus’s love for her, and her brilliant stories entertained them both—her with the writing of them and him with the reading of them—as they grew old together.
信守诺言
埃德.库克
5岁的时候，我吃到了生平第一块巧克力。它那甜美的味道、丝滑的感觉是我永远也不能忘记的。第二次世界大战期间，当俄军横扫西部向纳粹德国进军时，我们全家当时住在立陶宛的陶拉盖镇。镇上的很多村民都慌忙逃命去了。
混乱中，我与12岁的姐姐伊丽特和3岁的弟弟约瑟夫一起在火车站附近站着，那里有一趟开往德国的列车正准备出站。
那趟火车只允许携家带口的人上车。就在火车要出站的时候，一个单身的女人朝我们走来。“我会照看他的。”她对伊丽特说。在火车离开前她把我拉到了车上。整个旅途中，我都在哭喊着要妈妈。
最后，我们抵达汉堡。遭到轰炸的街道上尸体遍布。现在，那个女人已经逃离了陶拉盖，我便再也没有利用价值了。就像那个饱经战乱的城市中成千上万的其他孩子一样，我在街上过起了流浪的生活，靠偷东西来维持生存。我骨瘦如柴，快要饿死了。
后来，美军占领了汉堡。美国士兵看上去是那样高大、健康。从他们眼皮底下偷东西吃是很容易的事。我溜进脏乱的食堂，藏在一张桌子底下，然后带着新鲜的长条面包离开。
一天下午，为了寻找食物，我潜藏在一个肮脏的帐篷附近，这时有一只大手抓住我的衣领把我拎了起来。原来是一个美国士兵。“抓到你了！”他喊道。
我害怕极了，可以看出我的恐惧也令他局促不安。他说：“不要紧，孩子。”他把手伸到破旧的上衣口袋，递给我一块巧克力：“给你，尝一点儿吧。”我剥开巧克力，咬了一小口，那感觉就像进入了天堂。
这个士兵把我和其他一些无家可归的孩子送到孤儿院，是由红十字会组织成立的。4年后，我被转移到美国的一家孤儿院。随后，又被一家居于宾夕法尼亚州姓唐纳森的家庭领养。和第一次吃巧克力时的感觉一样，我仿佛进入了天堂。后来，我参了军，根据《美国退伍军人法案》上了大学，最后拿到了医院社会工作专业的硕士学位。我祈祷说，上帝啊，我要报答所有帮助过我的人。
于是，1983年，我到退伍军人事务处做了一名医务顾问，专门治疗那些患上战后紧张综合征的退伍军人。
患病的士兵们坐在我的办公室里，怀疑我怎么会理解他们，怎么能帮助他们减轻痛苦。“你知道生活在恐惧中的感觉吗？”一位海军士兵问我。在一场战役中，他们整整一个排的战士都死了，当时悲惨的场面至今还折磨着他。
每当这个时候，我都会告诉他们我的故事，讲述那位上帝派来营救我的美国士兵。
我说：“我从来都不知道他的名字。但我记住了他的大恩大德。”然后，我会打开办公桌上一个装满美味巧克力的抽屉，拿出巧克力来请他们品尝。
■心灵小语
一个人的一生不会是一帆风顺的，必定会有一些曲曲折折、沟沟坎坎。不管你经历了惊涛骇浪，还是小小的考验，只要活下来就是幸运的，离幸福也只有一步之遥。带着一颗感恩的心，去生活、去与人交往，坚持自己心中的梦想与承诺，就定能为他人带去一点快乐、给自己心灵一丝安慰、体现自身的一种独特价值。
A Promise Kept
Ed Cook
I had my first chocolate bar at five years old. I’ll never forget the delicious, comforting taste. But the circumstances were anything but sweet. It was World War Ⅱ. I lived with my family in the Lithuanian town of Taurage when the Russian army swept west toward Nazi Germany. Many people in our village fled in panic1.
In the confusion, I stood with my twelveyearold sister Elyte, and my threeyearold brother Joseph, near the railroad station, where a train bound for Germany waited.
Only families were allowed to board the train. Just before departure, a woman traveling alone approached us. “I’ll take care of him,” she told Elyte, and pulled me onto the train as it left the station. The entire trip I cried for my Motina, my mother.
We arrived in Hamburg. Corpses littered the bombedout streets. Now that the woman had escaped Taurage she had no more use for me. I lived on the streets, like thousands of other children in that wartorn city. I survived by stealing food. Still, there was never enough. I was skin and bones, close to starving.
Then the American occupation troops arrived. They looked so big and healthy. Filching food from them was a cinch2. I’d slip into the mess hall, hide under a table and make off with loaves of fresh bread.
One afternoon as I lurked around a mess tent in search of food, a huge hand lifted me up by the collar. An American soldier. “Got ya！” He shouted.
I was scared, and I could see it upset him. “It’s okay, kid,” he said. He reached into his fatigue jacket and handed me a chocolate bar. “Here, have some of this.” I unwrapped it and took a small bite. I thought I’d gone to heaven.
The soldier took me and some other homeless children to an orphanage3 run by the Red Cross. Four years later I was transferred to an orphanage in America. Soon after, a family who lived in Donaldson, Pennsylvania, adopted me. Again, as with that first taste of chocolate, it was as if I’d gone to heaven. Later, I joined the Army, then attended college under the GI Bill. Eventually I earned a master’s degree in clinical social work. God, I want to pay back all the people who were so good to me, I prayed.
So in 1983 I went to work for the Department of Veteran Affairs as a clinical counselor, treating veterans who suffer from posttraumatic4 stress syndrome5.
The troubled soldiers sit in my office and wonder how I can possibly understand them or help ease their pain. “What do you know about living with terror？” Asked one Marine, who still was tormented by the image of a platoon member being killed in a battle.
That is when I tell them my story, and about the GI god sent to save my life.
“I never did learn his name, but I remember his kindness,” I say. And then I open a drawer in my desk that is always full and offer them some chocolate.
我爱您，妈妈
詹尼弗.克拉克
“我爱您，妈妈。明天见。”每天在跟妈妈吻别的时候，我都会说这些话。我认识的大多数女孩在跟妈妈说再见的时候，都不会告诉妈妈自己爱她。可是，我不像她们。
还是个婴儿的时候，我就被一对有爱心的人收养了，他们愿意把我带到他们的家里。他们不仅成为了我的父母，也成为了我最好的朋友。当我渐渐长大，我知道了我的生母怀我的时候还很年轻，没有能力抚养我。我能理解这些，并且对这一切充满了感激。毕竟，我最终遇上了一对互敬互爱的人，而且他们爱我。3年后，这对夫妇又收养了另外一个孩子——洛里。
直到9岁，我才知道为什么我的父母没要一个他们自己的孩子。那时，爸爸解释说他们尝试过很多次，但是都没有成功。妈妈患有糖尿病是其中的一部分原因。那时我还很年轻，不能真正理解那意味着什么。我渐渐长大，看到妈妈为自己打针，我不明白为什么只有她一个人这样做。每天我看到的都是一个坚强、美丽、健康，一生都在帮助别人的女人。
我13岁的时候，一切都改变了。
首先是从妈妈脚趾上的一个小水疱开始的。或许，这看上去没什么大不了的，但是最终的结果却是妈妈失去了一个脚趾。不久之后，妈妈又得了中风，而就在她中风刚好时，她又不得不接受一条腿被切除的手术。
这一切仅仅在3年之内全部发生了。我们家为此付出的代价简直难以置信。妈妈在5家医院进进出出，每家医院都竭尽全力帮助她恢复健康。有时妈妈会在家里住上几个月，但是这期间总会有一些不妙的事情发生。假日里，爸爸、妹妹和我就在医院的病房里陪她。有一年的感恩节，我们还在医院里一起吃火鸡；还有一年的圣诞节，我们把所有的礼物都带到医院，让她看着我们把礼物打开。
我绞尽脑汁想要使她感觉舒服一点，但是一切努力都是徒劳。在家里，照看小妹妹成了我的工作，同时我还要打扫房间、洗衣服、做饭。我觉得这对我不公平，便迁怒于爸爸。我所有的朋友都能在周五晚上出去玩，而我却不得不待在家里，充当“妈妈”的角色，我讨厌这个事实。
妈妈躺在医院的病床上，我还要去上学，这对我来说就更困难了。我现在才只有16岁。幸运的是，妈妈出席了我的生日聚会，而且我永远也不会忘记，当我拥抱她的时候，我们母女泪流满面的情景。我至今都对与妈妈在一起的那一刻充满着感激，因为那是4年来，我所见到的妈妈最开心的时刻。
但是快乐的日子再一次变成了悲伤。6月15日，我没去上学，而是留在家里照顾她。她再一次住进了医院。刚一开始，没有人能想到她出现了什么问题。妈妈在重症特护病房里一连待了一星期。后来她开始好起来，但是7月10日，她的病情又变得很严重，到11日时，她已徘徊在生死线上。
病情越来越难处理。每一次当她濒临死亡时，她都能起死回生，甚至显得更好些。
当医生们最终找到了她病情恶化的原因后，他们为她做了肾透析。似乎透析很有效果，8月17日，我们去医院看望她时，她的状况非常好。我离开的时候，吻了她，并对她说：“我爱您，妈妈。明天见。”
第二天早上6点30分，我们接到医院的电话，被告知妈妈于昨晚去世了。
今天，妈妈离开我们已经一年多了，我与爸爸和妹妹的关系变得更加亲密。在接过了家庭责任的同时，我还因为妈妈得到了别人的尊敬。我仍然不能明白，妈妈是怎样完成她所有的事业的。
身为养女，我并不想找到自己的生身父母。我曾有过的父母才是我唯一需要的父母。他们教育我要坚强，要按照自己的心意做事。看着妈妈笑对痛苦，我懂得了，我可以成就任何事。我知道，妈妈正陪我一起走过生命中这段重要时光，她会引领我朝正确的方向前进。
“谢谢您，妈妈！我爱您，明天见。”
■心灵小语
有人说，人是为死而生的。然而我觉得，人是为爱而生的。成长的路上，曲曲折折总少不了真爱，亲人的、朋友的、陌生人的……父母的、手足的、爱人的、子女的……从此刻开始，留心身边的真爱吧，不要等到失去后，在绝望中再去回忆。
I Love You，Mom
Jennifer Clarke
“I love you, Mom. See you tomorrow.” I said these words every day as I kissed my mom goodbye. Most girls I know don’t tell their mothers they love them when they say goodbye. But I wasn’t like girls I knew.
As a baby, I was adopted by two loving people who were willing to take me into their home. They became not only my parents, but also my best friends. As I was growing up, I learned that my birth mother was very young when she had me and wasn’t able to care for me. I understood and was thankful. After all, I ended up with two people who loved each other very much, and also loved me. Three years later, they adopted another baby, Lori.
Until I was nine, I didn’t understand why my parents didn’t have any children of their own. Then my father explained that they had tried many times, but they were unsuccessful. Part of the reason was that my mom had diabetes. Since I was young, I didn’t really understand what that meant. As I was growing up, I would see my mom give herself shots and wonder why she was the only one who had to do that. All I saw every day was a strong, beautiful, healthy woman, who spent her life helping people.
When I was thirteen, everything changed.
It started with a tiny blister on my mom’s toe. This may seem like no big deal, but she ended up losing her toe. Soon she suffered a stroke, and just as she began to recover from that, her leg had to be amputated.
This all took place over three years. The toll this took on my family was unbelievable. My mom was in and out of five hospitals, each doing their best to help her. Sometimes she was home for a few months, but something always seemed to go wrong. When the holidays came, my father, my sister and I spent the day in her hospital room. One Thanksgiving we ate turkey there, and another Christmas we brought all our presents to the hospital so she could see us open them.
I tried my hardest to make her feel better, but nothing helped. At home, taking care of my little sister became my iob, along with cleaning the house, doing the laundry and cooking the meals. I thought it was unfair, and took it out on my father. I hated the fact that all my friends went out on Friday nights, while I had to stay home and play “Mommy”.
It was even harder for me to go to school while my mom was lying in the hospital. By now, I was sixteen. Luckily she was there for my birthday party, and I’ll never forget hugging her as tears fell down both our faces. I’m still thankful for that moment with my mother because it was the happiest I had seen her in four years.
But, once again, the happy days became sad. On June 15, I stayed home from school to take care of her. Once again she was admitted to the hospital. At first, no one could figure out what was wrong. She remained in intensive care for a week. She began to do better. Then on July 10 she became very sick, and on the eleventh she almost died.
It was getting harder and harder to deal with. Every time she got really sick, she would always come back and do even better.
When the doctors finally realized why she was so sick, they put her on dialysis, a treatment for her kidneys. It seemed to work. On August 17, we visited her and she was doing extremely well. When I left, I kissed her and said, “I love you, Mom. See you tomorrow.”
At 6：30 the next morning we receeived a call telling us she had passed away during the night.
Today, a little over a year since my mom left, I am closer to my father and sister. And along with accepting my family responsibilities, I have gained respect for my mom. I still don’t understand how she managed to accomplish all she did.
As for being adopted, I have no desire to find my real parents. The ones I have had are the only ones I’ll ever need. They taught me to be strong and follow my heart. Watching my mom smile through all her pain taught me that I can accomplish anything. I know she’s with me through this important time in my life, and she’ll guide me in the right direction.
“Thank you, Mom！ I love you and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
她未曾放弃我
金伯利.安妮.布兰德
我躺在地板上，疯狂地蹬腿和狂叫，直到声音嘶哑，这都是因为我的养母非要我把玩具收起来。
“我恨你。”我尖叫着，当时我六岁，不明白我为什么那么生气。
我两岁时被人收养。生母不能给予我们姐妹六人所需要的照顾。我们也不能靠父亲或是其他人来照料，于是我们被送到不同的养父母家里。我感到孤独、烦恼，不知道怎么跟别人诉说我内心的伤痛。发脾气成了我宣泄情感的唯一途径。
因为我很调皮，最终，我现在的养母又把我送回了收养所，正如我先前的那位母亲一样。我觉得自己确实是一个最不可爱的女孩。
于是，我见到凯特.麦肯。那时我七岁，她来看我时，我正跟我的第三任养父母住在一起。养母告诉我，凯特单身，想收养一个孩子，我不知道她会选择我。我无法想象有人会愿意让我跟他们永远生活在一起。
那天，凯特带着我去了南瓜农场。我们玩得很快乐，但我没想到能再次见到她。
几天过去了，一位社工到家里说，凯特想收养我。于是她问我是否介意住在单亲家庭。
“我就是想要一个爱我的人。”我回答。
第二天，凯特来看我。她解释说正式的收养手续要一年时间，但是我可以很快就搬过去。我有些激动而又害怕。我想知道她在了解我之后，是否会改变主意。
凯特感觉到了我的恐惧。“我知道你受过伤，”她说着抱住了我。“我知道你很恐惧，但是我发誓决不会赶你走。现在我们是一家人了。”
出乎我的意料，她的眼中充满泪水。忽然我意识到，她跟我一样寂寞！
“嗯……妈妈。”我叫道。
后来的几个星期里，我见过了我的新祖父母、姑妈、叔叔和堂兄妹们。我感觉很滑稽，但是很好，那么多人拥抱我，他们好像已经爱上我了。
当我搬到妈妈家时，第一次有了自己的房间。墙纸和配套的床单、古老的梳妆台和大衣橱。我的棕色纸箱里，只有很少的几件衣服，“不用担心，”妈妈说，“我会买许多新的东西给你。”
我睡了，整晚都睡得很舒服。我祈求上帝不要让我离开这儿。
妈妈为我做了许多美好的事。她带我去教堂、给我买宠物、带我骑马、上钢琴课。每天，她都告诉我她爱我。但是爱还不足以抚慰我的伤痛。我一直等着她改变主意，“如果我做的事足够坏，她也会像过去的那些人一样抛弃我的。”
所以我努力在她伤害我之前先伤害她。我为了一些小事而吵闹，一不顺心就发脾气。我猛地关上门。如果妈妈试图阻拦，我就打她。但是她从未失去耐心。她拥抱我，告诉我无论怎样，她都爱我。当我发狂般胡闹时，她就让我在蹦床上跳。
但是，由于我忙于搬往她家，跟她一起住，所以功课落下了，妈妈对家庭作业要求很严格。一天，当我正在看电视时，她进来关了电视。“做完功课再看。”她说。我一下子火了，把书全都扔到了地上。“我讨厌你，我要离开这里！”我狂喊着。
我等她说让我离开。但是她没有，我问：“你为什么不赶我走？”
“我是不喜欢你的行为，”她说，“但我是不会赶你走的。我们是一家人，一家人就不能抛弃对方。”
她的话深深触动了我。这个妈妈不同，她是不会赶我走的。她是真的爱我。我意识到我也爱她。我哭了，抱住了她。
1985年，妈妈正式收养了我，我们一家人在饭店好好庆祝了一下。我感到自己已经是他们中的一员了，但还是有些恐惧。妈妈会永远爱我吗？我的臭脾气不会马上消失的。但是几个月过去了，我真的很少发火了。
现在，我已经16岁了。功课水平已经达到3.4级了，有了匹叫“短剑”的马、四只猫、一条狗、六只鸽子和一只养在后院池塘的牛蛙。我有一个梦想：想成为一名兽医。
我喜欢和妈妈一起做事，喜欢购物和骑马。当有人说我们长得像时，我们都笑了。他们不相信她并不是我的生母。
现在，我比想象中的还要开心。当我长大以后，我要结婚生子，但是如果不能实现，我也会像妈妈那样收养一个。我会选择一个恐惧而寂寞的孩子，决不放弃她。我也要感谢妈妈，因为她从未抛弃我。
■心灵小语
有妈的孩子像块宝，没妈的孩子像根草。”世上有许许多多失去母亲的孤儿，他们不能像拥有母爱的孩子那般幸福，就像文中的主人公一样。缺少了母爱的灌溉，孩子往往会对社会失去信心，甚至会自暴自弃。文中的主人公是不幸的，因为她没有亲人的关爱；而她无疑又是幸运的，因为她遇到了一位好母亲。母亲对她疼爱有加，宽容以待，使她重拾了自信，享受到这份迟来的快乐。
She Didn’t Give up on Me
Kimberly Anne Brand
I lay on the floor, furiously1 kicking my legs and screaming until my throat felt raw—all because my foster mother had asked me to put my toys away.
“I hate you,” I shrieked. I was six years old and didn’t understand why I felt so angry all the time.
I’d been living in foster care since I was two. My real mom couldn’t give my five sisters and me the care we needed. Since we didn’t have a dad or anyone else to care for us, we were put in different foster homes. I felt lonely and confused. I didn’t know how to tell people that I hurt inside. Throwing a tantrum was the only way I knew to express my feelings.
Because I acted up, eventually my current foster mom sent me back to the adoption agency, just as the mom before had. I thought I was the most unlovable girl in the world.
Then I met Kate McCann. I was seven by that time and living with my third foster family when she came to visit. When my foster mother told me that Kate was single and wanted to adopt a child, I didn’t think she’d choose me. I couldn’t imagine anyone would want me to live with them forever.
That day, Kate took me to a pumpkin2 farm. We had fun, but I didn’t think I’d see her again.
A few days later, a social worker came to the house to say that Kate wanted to adopt me. Then she asked me if I’d mind living with one parent instead of two.
“All I want is someone who loves me, ” I said.
Kate visited the next day. She explained that it would take a year for the adoption to be finalized, but I could move in with her soon. I was excited but afraid, too. Kate and I were total strangers. I wondered if she’d change her mind once she got to know me.
Kate sensed my fear. “I know you’ve been hurt, ”she said, hugging me. “I know you’re scared. But I promise I’ll never send you away. We’re a family now.”
To my surprise, her eyes were filled with tears. Suddenly I realized that she was as lonely as I was！
“Okay ... Mom, ” I said.
The following week I met my new grandparents, aunt, uncle and cousins. It felt funny—but good—to be with strangers who hugged me as though they already loved me.
When I moved in with Mom, I had my own room for the first time. It had wallpaper and a matching bedspread, an antique dresser and a big closet. I had only a few clothes I’d brought with me in a brown paper bag. “Don’t worry,” Mom said. “I’ll buy you lots of pretty new things.”
I went to sleep that night feeling safe. I prayed I wouldn’t have to leave.
Mom did lots of nice things for me. She took me to church. She let me have pets and gave me horseback riding and piano lessons. Every day, she told me she loved me. But love wasn’t enough to heal the hurt inside me. I kept waiting for her to change her mind. I thought, “If I act bad enough, she’ll leave me like the others.”
So I tried to hurt her before she could hurt me. I picked fights over little things and threw tantrums when I didn’t get my way. I slammed doors. If Mom tried to stop me, I’d hit her. But she never lost patience. She’d hug me and say she loved me anyway. When I got mad, she made me jump on a trampoline3.
Because I was failing in school when I came to live with her, Mom was very strict about my homework. One day when I was watching TV, she came in and turned it off. “You can watch it after you finish your homework,” she said. I blew up. I picked up my books and threw them across the room. “I hate you and I don’t want to live here anymore！” I screamed.
I waited for her to tell me to start packing. When she didn’t, I asked, “Aren’t you going to send me back？”
“I don’t like the way you’re behaving, ”she said, “but I’ll never send you back. We’re a family, and families don’t give up on each other.”
Then it hit me. This Mom was different; she wasn’t going to get rid of me. She really did love me. And I realized I loved her, too. I cried and hugged her.
In 1985, when Mom formally adopted me, our whole family celebrated at a restaurant. It felt good belonging to someone. But I was still scared. Could a mom really love me forever？ My tantrums4 didn’t disappear immediately, but as months passed, they happened less often.
Today I’m 16. I have a 3.4 grade point average, a horse named Dagger’s Point, four cats, a dog, six doves and a bullfrog5 that lives in our backyard pond. And I have a dream: I want to be a veterinarian.
Mom and I like to do things together, like shopping and horseback riding. We smile when people say how much we look alike. They don’t believe she’s not my real mom.
I’m happier now than I ever imagined I could be. When I’m older, I’d like to get married and have kids, but if that doesn’t work out, I’ll adopt like Mom did. I’ll pick a scared and lonely kid and then never, ever give up on her. I’m so glad Mom didn’t give up on me.
大声说出你的爱
Say“I Love You”
当我掏出钱包去买饮料时，一张小纸条掉了出来。那是蒂姆写给我的，上面的话至今还能震撼我的心，仍然能让我开心地微笑。“蒂娜，等了这么久才告诉你，我真的很生自己的气……我爱你！”我感动得泪水四溢，觉得自己真的很幸福，对我们的关系也安心了。
滚轴浪漫曲
佚名
1980年的春天，我已经用整整一个月的时间来追随一个男孩了。我只是没有勇气走到他的面前和他交谈。自从那个冬天发生了那种让人感到局促不安的事情，我就更没有勇气接近他了。
当时，他是学校篮球二队三年级的成员，而我是拉拉队的队长，所以我有许多机会观看这个有着精湛球技的男孩的表演。只是，我得戴上眼镜。你知道的，我的视力很差，就像蝙蝠一样瞎，然而虚荣心却使我不愿意戴眼镜。
半决赛中，特里在最后一秒投篮命中时，我这个视力差到极点的拉拉队队长却把人认错了，并开始为另一个家伙欢呼喝彩。在场的观众都开始低声轻笑，我的脸涨得通红，这时特里从我身旁走了过去，进了更衣室。过了几个月，他对我的了解仅仅是那个在他投进了好球，却把他的名字弄错的糟糕的拉拉队队长。
然而，我最好的朋友常常和特里一起去教堂做礼拜。雪莉决定充当媒人。她不但邀请我去参加一个教堂组织的溜冰派对，而且，她将我推进了特里父母的车里，接着车便向溜冰场开去。尽管溜冰场距离这里有15英里远，然而谁也没有说话。一路上，我直挺挺地坐在车的后排，真想钻进座位里去。这真是一个天大的错误。
即使是我们到达溜冰场以后，局面还是没有什么起色。每当有双人滑的时候，我都在心里盼望并祈求特里会过来邀请我。然而事与愿违！经过了3场双人滑，我已经忍无可忍了！因此，我和他的两个最好的朋友轮流滑着。在溜冰场的喇叭响起最后一轮双人滑的通告时，特里终于动作笨拙地溜到栏杆旁，与我站在了一起。
“我想你正在思考我为什么没有邀请你和我一起双人滑。”他对着我说道。我试着不去看他的眼睛，那双可以将我融化的美丽的棕色眼睛。我装得很冷淡，还对他撒了谎：“不，我并没有这么想。”
他对我刻薄的回答不但没有放在心上，还用下面这些话俘虏了我的心。他用他那双漂亮的眼睛盯着自己的溜冰鞋，很谦虚地说道：“我之所以没有邀请你，是因为我滑得不好。假如你不担心我会让你摔倒在地，你是否愿意和我一起滑呢？”这一回，我看着那双眼睛，真的被他融化了。
就在我们手牵手向着一生和永远滑过去的时候，我知道我的生活将从这一刻改变。我从未见过一个会承认自己缺点的男孩，更别说还为一个女孩担心。最初，我仅仅是着迷于他英俊的外表（哪个人不会注意到那双漂亮的棕色眼睛呢），然而，还是他美丽的心灵让我知道他是多么特别。
最终，我找到了自己的白马王子。
纵然他并未骑着骏马（只是租来的溜冰鞋），然而在我们绕着溜冰场滑行的时候，他给我的感觉是：我就是舞会上的灰姑娘。我牢牢地拉紧他的手——并不是因为对午夜的惧怕——而是为了帮助他，不让他摔倒。
看着我们的结婚照片，我最钟爱的一张是夫妻二人沿着教堂过道朝外走。大多数情况下，都是妻子将手优雅地放在丈夫的臂弯里一起从过道走过。然而我们可不是这样!在宣布成为夫妻之后，我们走过过道，仿佛7年之前我们在溜冰场里一样——手牵着手，许下诺言不让对方摔倒。
我们的孩子们喜欢听的故事就是他们的爸爸不知道怎么滑冰，让我牵着他的手以防止摔倒的故事。然而那个时候，对他们的妈妈来讲为时已晚。那双眼睛她只看了一眼，就已经深陷其中，爱上了她的白马王子。
■心灵小语
美好的事物是值得争取的，从一个地方向他走近、再走近，然后微笑着紧紧地牵住对方的手，就是牵起了生命的快乐、忧伤和依托。
Roller Romance
Anonymous
In the spring of 1980, I had been following one particular guy around school for a month. I just did not have the nerve to go up and talk to him. An embarrassing situation, from that winter, truly prevented me from approaching him.
He had been a starter for the junior varsity basketball team and I was a cheerleader1, I had many opportunities to see this gorgeous guy in action. That is, if I wore my glasses. You see, I am as blind as a bat and was too vain to wear them.
As Terry sank a half court shot at the last second, this extremely nearsighted cheerleader, misidentified the hero and began cheering for the wrong guy. As the crowd started chuckling, my face turned crimson2 as Terry walked by me to get to the locker room. Months later, he only knew me as the dingy cheerleader who could not even get his name right when he hit a great shot！
However, my best friend attended church with Terry. Shirley decided to play matchmaker. She not only invited me to a churchsponsored skating party, but also literally pushed me in his parents’ car to ride to the skating rink. Although the skating rink was 15 miles away, very few words were spoken. As I sank down in that backseat, I just wanted to keep sinking. This had truly been a huge mistake.
After we arrived at the skating rink, things did not get any better. Each couple skate I hoped and prayed that Terry would ask me. He didn’t！ After about three couple skates, I decided enough was enough！ So I took turns skating with his two best friends. As the last call for a couple skate came over the rink’s loud speakers, Terry finally skated somewhat awkwardly3 and stood beside the rails with me.
“I guess you wonder why I have not asked you to couple skate？” were his first words to me. Trying ever so hard not to look in those big beautiful brown eyes that made me melt, I answered nonchalantly and dishonestly, “No, not really.”
This guy not only ignored my tart reply, but would also win my heart with the following reply. Casting those beautiful eyes down at his skates, he humbly remarked, “I didn’t ask because I do not skate very well. If you are not afraid that I will make you fall, would you please skate with me？” This time I did look into those eyes and did melt.
As we skated hand in hand to Always and Forever, I knew my life would never be the same. I never knew a guy that actually would admit any of his faults, let alone worry about a girl to boot！ I had first been attracted to his beauty on the outside （who wouldn’t notice those beautiful brown eyes）, but it would be his beautiful heart that made me realize how truly special he was.
I had actually found my Prince Charming.
Even though he was not riding on a handsome steed （but rented roller skates）, he made me feel like Cinderella at the ball as we skated around the rink. I clung tightly to his hand—not because I was afraid of midnight—but to help keep him from falling. When I look at our wedding pictures, my favorite is walking down the aisle as husband and wife. Most couples walk down the aisle with the bride’s hand tucked neatly in the crook of her husband’s arm. Not us！ We walked down the aisle, after being pronounced man and wife, just like we had done seven years before at that skating rink—handinhand with the promise of helping keep the other one from falling.
Our children love to hear the story of how their dad did not know how to skate and asked me to hold his hand to help us keep from tumbling. But it had already been too late for their mother. Only after one look into those eyes, she had fallen—fallen in love with Prince Charming.
遥望着你的爱慕者
佚名
卡瑞是大学里非常受欢迎的篮球明星，几乎人人都知道他。正是因为如此，他成了学院的骄傲，男同学嫉妒他，女同学把他当成英雄来崇拜。有一个名叫娜勒的女孩，是众多仰慕者中的一个。
娜勒是约翰逊教授的女儿，她与卡瑞是同班同学。在家里，约翰逊先生是一个很严厉的父亲，而一个体育明星在这样的家庭是得不到太高评价的。因此，娜勒在家中从未提过卡瑞的名字。在学校里，两个人几乎很少说话，并且彼此之间总是保持一定的距离。
娜勒的家就在大学校园里，她家附近有一个很大的操场。每天下午放学以后，卡瑞都会在那里至少练习一个小时的篮球，然后才回家。娜勒的家住在三楼，她从阳台上就能够看到操场。每天放学回家后，娜勒总是习惯坐在阳台的椅子上，读书或者做作业。有时，她会抬起头，看着卡瑞投篮，或者数他进了多少次球。
然而，卡瑞似乎没有注意到阳台上的娜勒。
一天下午，外面起风了，娜勒就把椅子搬到了房间里。但是，她仍然能够听到操场上传来的球声。突然，球声消失了，操场变得非常安静。于是，娜勒透过窗子向外看，因为她觉得这有点反常。
她看见，卡瑞蹲在操场上，手里拿着一支粉笔在地上写着什么。娜勒很好奇，“他在写些什么呢？”写完之后，卡瑞站起身，背起书包，拖着沉重的步伐回家了。
见卡瑞离开了，娜勒迅速地跑下楼，悄悄地来到了操场上。当走到卡瑞刚才待的地方时，她看到地上写着这样的话：“娜勒，你为什么不看我打球呢？”
娜勒把地上的粉笔头拾起来，在那句话的后面加上了这样一句话：“可是，我真的看了呀。”
Distant Admirer
Anonymous
Cary is very popular in his college and nearly everybody knows him. He is a basketball star. And for this reason, he has become the pride of the college, envy of the boys, and hero of the girls. Among his many admirers is a girl called Nola.
Nola is Cary’s classmate, and Professor Johnson’s daughter. Mr. Johnson is a strict father, and in a family where a sports star is not so highly regarded, Nola never dares to mention Gary’s name. In the school, they seldom speak to each other and always keep a certain distance.
Nola’s family lives on the campus and there is a big sports ground near their house. Every afternoon, after school, Cary would spend at least one hour practising basketball before returning home. Nola lives on the third floor, and from their balcony she can see the sports ground. As a habit, Nola would sit in a chair on the balcony, reading or doing her homework every day when she comes home. Sometimes she would raise her head to watch Gary shoot or count how many times he can hit the basket.
Cary doesn’t seem to pay any attention to Nola on the balcony.
One afternoon, Nola moved her chair into the room to avoid the breeze outside. But she could still hear the noise from the sports ground. The noise suddenly stopped and the sports ground became very quiet. Nola thought it strange and looked through the window.
She saw Cary bending down there and writing something on the ground with a piece of chalk. What was he writing？ She wondered. Cary finished writing and stood up, he picked up his bag and dragged his way home.
After Cary left, Nola went down quickly and walked quietly to the sports ground. When she got to the place where Cary had just stayed, she found these words，“Nola, why didn’t you watch me play？”
She picked up the chalk end on the ground and added below the line，“But yes, I did.”
终生的朋友
蒂娜.利兹
蒂姆星期六离开家去上大学，而我则是在星期天出发的。自从我们高中时期成为朋友以来，这是我们第一次分离。尽管我们的友谊超出了普通意义的男女关系，但是我们的亲密还是令很多人羡慕。蒂姆那令人惊异的个性、逗乐的玩笑，还有他那孩子气的容貌，都让我深深地折服。他能够读懂我的心思，能说出我未说完的话，并且能够仅用一个表情就逗得我大笑不止。我们相互倾慕。当高三的那个夏季来临的时候，我们的关系变得更加亲密了。
夏季慢慢开始了。蒂姆试图让我忘记那个现在被我称做是“前男友”的怪人，我与“前男友”的相处完全是浪费时间。蒂姆与我的一位好友约会已经有好几个月了。当她奚落他，在我们的朋友面前取笑他时，我只能坐在旁边看着。当她最终结束这段恋情时，蒂姆哭了。她伤害了我最好的朋友的心，而我的心也和他一起痛着。
深夜里，我和蒂姆在电话里聊了很久，我们互相安慰，互相出主意，担心着上大学的事情。那个夏季剩余的日子里，我们都成了单身，我们一起度过了所有的时光。工作后的深夜里，蒂姆和我会在咖啡馆里见面，聊上几个小时。那个夏天，我们变得更加亲密。我不知道为什么要这样，因为我们都准备去上大学。
当分别的时刻慢慢逼近时，我们一起去买上学用品，计划着入学一个月后我们的第一次聚会。
那个星期六的早晨，当我开车送他去学校时，我的内心非常不安，愁肠百结。在这3个小时的车程里，我一直在想我是怎么了。当然，我就要失去他了，但是我的感觉不是悲伤，而是心绪不宁。当我们把他安顿到他的小房间里，把房间收拾得像个家时，我恍然大悟——这个念头猛烈地撞击着我的心灵。我爱上这个人了！这种感情不同于高中生活里我对他那种友谊的爱。我觉得很无助。当一切都已太晚时，我才终于明白我对自己最好的朋友的真正感情。我坐在他那有弹性的钢丝床上，泪水溢满了双眼。我对我最好的朋友、我生命中的爱说声再见，心中猜测着一个月后我们还能否真的如约相见。
那天晚上，我在家里收拾行李时哭了，我害怕会时过境迁。我和蒂姆都将开始各自的生活，我们可能会很少想到对方。就在这时，电话响了。我一边擦去泪水，一边努力用平静的声音问道：“你好。”电话那头的那个声音是要告诉我他一切都好，是蒂姆的电话。他甚至来不及问声好，就连忙说道：“蒂娜，我们的聚会要比我预想的提前了。就在今天怎么样？”
当我挂上电话的那一刻，我像个疯子一样兴奋地大笑着，晕头转向地跳上车，朝他的学校开去。我怎么可能用如此短的时间就开到他的学校！（１小时４５分钟）这并不重要，重要的是，第二次来到这里，我拥抱了他，并告诉他我爱他。事实上，在这之前，我曾这样做过无数次，但是这次他挣脱我的拥抱，直视着我的眼睛，告诉我他也爱我——然后吻了我。这个吻，似乎包含着数月来甚至数年来我们之间的爱。
第二天一早，当我出发去学校的时候，心里想的还是蒂姆。当我掏出钱包去买饮料时，一张小纸条掉了出来。那是蒂姆写给我的，上面的话至今还能震撼我的心，仍然能让我开心地微笑。“蒂娜，等了这么久才告诉你，我真的很生自己的气……我爱你！”我感动得泪水四溢，觉得自己真的很幸福，对我们的关系也安心了。
我至今仍保存着蒂姆的那张纸条，继续保持着我们非凡的友谊，并将永远持续下去。只是，这段日子里我们分享得更多了——三个漂亮的孩子和相同的姓氏。
■心灵小语
浪漫凄美的爱情故事总是太令人伤感，幸福美满的故事结局总是太令人向往。幸福掌握在我们手中，它就在我们身边，离我们一步之遥。人啊，往往忽视了眼前的财富，去向往得不到的幸福，其实，发现并把握住身边的真爱才是真的抓住了幸福。
Friends for Life
Tina Leeds
Tim left for college on a Saturday and I on a Sunday. It would be the first time we had ever been apart over the course of our high school friendship. Ours was more than a normal boy／girl friendship, though. Our close connection was the envy of others. I was in awe of his amazing personality, his hilarious jokes and his littleboy looks. He could read my mind, finish my sentences and bring me to hysterical laughter with only a look. We adored each other. As our last summer together approached, our bond only grew.
The summer started off slowly, with Tim trying to get my mind off the jerk I now refer to as my exboyfriend and a total waste of my time. Tim was dating one of my close friends, and had been for a couple of months. I had to sit by and watch as she ridiculed him, made a joke of him in front of our friends, and eventually made him cry when she finally ended it. She broke my best friend’s heart, and I ached with him.
We spent hours talking on the phone late at night, comforting each other, giving each other advice and worrying about college. Over the rest of the summer, both of us were single, so we spent all of our time together. Late at night after work, we would meet at cafes and just talk for hours. We grew even closer that summer. I only wondered why our friendship had to get so close now, as we were both preparing to leave for college.
As the time approached when we would have to say goodbye, we went shopping together for school supplies and planned our first rendezvous as college students for a month after we were both at school.
As I left that Saturday morning to take him to school, I was extremely nervous, my stomach full of knots. I kept wondering what was wrong with me during the threehour car ride. Of course I was going to miss him, but this was not a sad feeling, this was nervousness. As we finished packing him into his tiny room and making it feel like some semblance of home, it hit me—and it hit me hard. I was in love with this guy！ And it wasn’t the friendship kind of love that I had felt for him throughout high school; it was something much deeper. I felt helpless. I had finally realized my true feelings for my best friend when it was too late. Tears filled my eyes as I sat on his springy, steel bed. I said goodbye to my best friend and the love of my life, wondering if we were really going to meet in a month as planned.
That night at home as I packed my stuff I cried, scared that things would never be the same. We were both going to have our separate lives and would probably barely think of each other. Just then the phone rang, and as I wiped my tears and tried to utter a quiet hello, the voice on the other end let me know everything was going to be okay. It was Tim. Before even saying hello he blurted out, “Tina, we’re going to make that rendezvous earlier than I thought. How about tonight？”
I was grinning like crazy as I practically hung up on him, jumped in my car without directions and headed for his school. How I got there in such a short time (an hour and fortyfive minutes) is irrelevant. What is relevant is that the second I got there, I hugged him and told him I loved him. I had actually done that numerous times before, but this time he pulled away from my embrace, looked into my eyes, told me he loved me, too—and then kissed me. It was a kiss that seemed to contain months, even years, worth of love for each other.
When I left for school the next morning, I had Tim on my mind and in my heart. As I picked up my wallet to get money out to pay for a soda, a tiny piece of paper fell out. It was from Tim and contained words that touch my heart to this day and still make me smile. “Tina, I am so mad at myself for waiting to tell you...I love you！” My eyes welled up with tears, and I felt truly happy and at ease with our situation.
I still keep that note from Tim, and we continue to share a remarkable friendship and always will. Only these days we also share much more—three beautiful children and the same last name.
爱情不关机
佚名
朋友今天问了我一个问题。你的手机晚上关机吗？如果不关，那你为谁而开呢？
我通常都不关机。为什么？我不清楚。但读完这篇文章，我好像有所了解，只为那丝关怀。现在，就让我与你一起分享这个故事。
每晚睡觉前，女孩都会关掉手机，并放在桌上的照片旁。从她买手机起，就养成了这个习惯。
女孩有个亲密的男朋友。不见面时，他们就会打电话，或是发信息。他们都喜欢这种交流方式。
一天晚上，男孩很挂念女孩。但他给她打电话时，女孩关机了，因为她已经睡了。次日，男孩对女孩说，希望她晚上不要关机，因为他想找她时，却找不到，他会很紧张。
从那天起，女孩开始了新的习惯，晚上不关手机。因为她害怕他打来电话，自己会听不到，于是女孩经常保持警惕。日子一天天过去，她也日渐消瘦。渐渐地，他们之间出现了隔阂。
女孩想要维系他们的关系。一天晚上，她给男孩打电话。听到的却是一个甜美的女声：“对不起，您所拨打的电话已关机。”
女孩明白了，她的爱也关机了。
过了很久，女孩有了新的爱情。但无论他们之间的感情有多好，女孩还是拒绝结婚。在她心中，还会时常想起那个男孩的话以及那个关机的夜晚。
整夜开机的习惯女孩依然保持着，但是不再期待它会响起。
一天晚上，女孩生病了。慌乱中，本想给父母打电话，却打到了男友那里。男孩已经睡了，但手机依旧开着。
事后，女孩问男孩：“为什么整晚开着手机？”
男孩回答说：“我害怕你晚上有需要时找不到我，会着急。”
最终，女孩嫁给了男孩。
夜深了，你的手机还开着吗？
■心灵小语
爱情是人类最美好、最伟大的情感。它给人以力量，使人身心愉悦。有些人在爱情中很细心，能让对方时刻感受到他的爱，就像文中后来的那个男孩，最终娶到了最爱的人。然而还是有一些人不那么细心，难道这能说明他们不爱对方吗？细心只能作为衡量爱的一部分，而不能作为定义爱的根本。不过，奉劝那时还沉浸在爱中的人：要爱，就要用心地爱！
Late at Night
Anonymous
Today, my friend asked me a question. At night, do you turn off1 your cell phone？ If you don’t, whom do you leave it on for？
I usually do not turn off my cell phone. Why？ I have no idea. After reading an article, I seemed to understand a little bit: for that little bit of caring. I am now sharing this story with you.
The girl would turn her cell phone off and put it by her photo on the desk every night before going to bed. This habit had been with her ever since she bought the phone.
The girl had a very close boyfriend. When they couldn’t meet, they would either call or send messages to each other. They both liked this type of communication.
One night, the boy really missed the girl. When he called her, however, the girl’s cell phone was off because she was already asleep. The next day, the boy asked the girl to leave her cell phone on at night because when he needed to find her and could not, he would be worried.
From that day forth, the girl began a new habit. Her cell phone never shut down at night. Because she was afraid that she might not be able to hear the phone ring in her sleep, she tried to stay very alert2. As days passed, she became thinner and thinner. Slowly, a gap began to form between them.
The girl wanted to revive their relationship. One night, she called the boy. However, what she got was a sweet female voice，“Sorry, the subscriber3 you dialed is power off.”
The girl knew that her love had just been turned off.
After a long time, the girl had a new love. No matter how well they got along, the girl, however, refused to get married. In the girl’s heart, she always remembered that boy’s words and the night when that phone was power off.
The girl still kept the habit of leaving her cell phone on all throughout the night, but not expecting that it would ring.
One night, the girl caught ill. In a moment of fluster4, instead of calling her parents, she dialed the new boyfriend’s cell phone. The boy was already asleep but his cell phone was still on.
Later, the girl asked the boy， “Why don’t you turn your cell phone off at night？”
The boy answered，“I’m afraid that if you need anything at night and aren’t able to find me, you’ll worry.”
The girl finally married the boy.
Later at night, do you turn off your cell phone？
无声的爱
佚名
最初，女孩的家里人强烈反对她和这个男孩约会。理由是家境不般配，要是和他一起生活，两个人的日子都不会好过。
因为家庭施加的压力，两人常常吵架。尽管女孩深爱着男孩，可她总是问：“你爱我有多深？”
男孩不太会说话，常常令女孩伤心。因为这个原因，再加上家庭施加的压力，女孩常常对男孩发脾气。而他，只是用沉默接受这一切。
过了几年，男孩终于毕业了，他打算到国外去深造。临走之前，他向女孩求婚：“我不善于表达，然而我知道我爱你。假如你接受我，我愿意用我的余生来照顾你。至于你的家人，我会尽我所能和他们交涉。你愿意嫁给我吗？”
女孩答应了，男孩凭借他的决心得到了女孩家里人的同意，他们可以结婚了。因此，在他离开前，他们订了婚。
女孩进入社会工作，而男孩则留在国外继续他的学业。维系他们爱情的只有电子邮件和电话，虽然这样很辛苦，然而他们从未想过放弃。
有一天，女孩在上班途中被一辆失控的汽车撞倒了。醒来之后，女孩看到父母都坐在床边。她意识到自己伤得厉害。看到妈妈在哭，她想安慰她。然而她意识到从她嘴里发出的只是一声叹息，她失声了……
医生解释说是因为大脑的损伤使她不能出声。听着父母的安慰，她却说不出一个字，她伤心欲绝。
在医院的那段日子，陪伴她的除了无声的哭泣，还是无声的哭泣。出院之后，所有的事情还是老样子，除了电话铃声。每当电话一响，这个声音就会刺穿她的心。她不想让他知道这一切，不想让自己成为他的负担，因此她写了一封信，告诉他她不想再等下去了。
她把订婚戒指连同那封信一块儿寄给了他。等待她的是男孩无数封回信和无数个电话。而女孩所能做的，除了痛哭，还是痛哭……
她的父母决定搬家，想让她忘掉这一切，重新快乐起来。
到了新家，女孩学会了手语，开始了崭新的生活。她告诉自己必须忘记他，这是她每天要做的功课。有一天，一个朋友到她的家里来，告诉她他已经回来了。她请朋友不要把所发生的一切告诉他，从此以后，她再也没有听到他的任何消息。
一年过去了，朋友带给她一个信封，信封里是男孩的结婚喜帖。女孩的心都碎了，然而在她打开之后，看到的却是自己的名字。
就在她要问朋友怎么回事的时候，她看到男孩出现在了她的面前。他用手语告诉她：“我利用一年的时间来学习手语。我只是想让你知道我没有忘记我的诺言，让我做你的声音吧，我爱你。”说着，他将戒指重新戴到她的手上。终于，女孩露出了笑脸。
■心灵小语
面对人生和命运，付出和奉献就是赢得爱情的真谛。女孩为了不让自己的病患成为男孩的负担，放弃了他；男孩坚守着自己的爱情，为了能让两个人重新走到一起，他学会了手语，最终携着自己心爱的女孩走进了婚姻的殿堂。
A Silent Love
Anonymous
From the very beginning, the girl’s family objected strongly on her dating this guy, saying that it had got to do with family background and that the girl would have to suffer for the rest of her life if she were to be with him.
Due to1 family’s pressure, the couple quarreled very often. Though the girl loved the guy deeply, she always asked him, “How deep is your love for me？”
As the guy was not good with his words， this often caused the girl to be very upset. With that and the family’s pressure, the girl often vented her anger on him. As for him, he only endured it in silence.
After a couple of years, the guy finally graduated and decided to further his studies overseas. Before leaving, he proposed to the girl, “I’m not very good with words. But all I know is that I love you. If you allow me, I will take care of you for the rest of my life. As for your family, I’ll try my best to talk them round. Will you marry me？”
The girl agreed, and with the guy’s determination, the family finally gave in and agreed to let them get married. So before he left, they got engaged2.
The girl went out to the working society, whereas the guy was overseas, continuing his studies. They sent their love through emails and phone calls. Though it was hard, both never thought of giving up.
One day, while the girl was on her way to work, she was knocked down by a car that lost control. When she woke up, she saw her parents beside her bed. She realized that she was badly injured. Seeing her mum crying, she wanted to comfort her. But she realized that all that could come out of her mouth was just a sigh3. She had lost her voice...
The doctors said that the impact on her brain had caused her to lose her voice. Listening to her parents’ comfort, but with nothing coming out from her. She broke down.
During the stay in hospital, besides silence cry... it was still just silent cry that accompanied her. Upon reaching home, everything seemed to be the same, except for the ringing tone of the phone, which pierced into her heart every time it rang. She did not wish to let the guy know, and not want to be a burden to him. She wrote a letter to him saying that she did not wish to wait any longer.
With that, she sent the ring back to him. In return, the guy sent millions and millions of reply, and countless of phone calls... All the girl could do, besides crying, was still crying...
The parents decided to move away, hoping that she could eventually forget everything and become happy.
With a new environment, the girl learned sign language, and started a new life, telling herself everyday that she must forget the guy. One day, her friend came and told her that he’s back. She asked her friend not to let him know what happened to her. Since then, there wasn’t any more news of him.
A year had passed and her friend came with an envelope containing an invitation card for the guy’s wedding. The girl was shattered4. When she opened the letter she saw her name in it instead; when she was about to ask her friend what’s going on, she saw the guy standing in front of her. He used sign language telling her,“I’ve spent one year to learn sign language. Just to let you know that I’ve not forgotten our promise. Let me have the chance to be your voice. I love you.” With that, he slipped the ring back into her finger. The girl finally smiled.
大声说出你的爱
佚名
从前有个小伙子患了无法治愈的癌症。18岁的他随时都面临着死亡的威胁。每天他都待在家里由母亲照顾，从未出过家门，实在待烦了，便征得母亲的同意出去转转。
走在大街上，他看到好多商店。当路经一家音像店时，他情不自禁地透过橱窗向里望了望，他停下脚步，又转身折回店门，向里望去。一个与他年龄相仿的、漂亮可爱的女孩子引起了他的注意，他对她一见钟情。他打开门，走了进去，眼里始终只有那女孩一个人，没有任何东西能吸引他的眼球。女孩坐在柜台旁，他不由自主地走了过去。
女孩抬头问他:“请问，您需要什么？”
她微笑着，他觉得这是他一生中所见到的最迷人的笑容，其实此时他最想的是能亲吻她。
他吞吞吐吐地说:“嗯……那个……哦……我想买张CD。”
他随便拿了张CD，然后把钱递给了她。
“我给你包起来吧？”女孩儿问，又冲他露出了迷人的微笑。
他点了点头，她又回到了柜台后面，出来时，把包好的CD递给了他。他接过来，走出了商店。
他回家了。自那以后，他每天都要去那家音像店买一张CD。女孩每天都要包好给他。而他每次把CD带回去，都要放到壁橱里。他很害羞，没有勇气约她出去，他真的很想那么做，但却怎么也做不到。母亲知道后，鼓励他向她表白。第二天，他终于鼓起勇气，像往常一样走进了那家音像店，买了一张CD,她也像往常一样，到柜台后把CD包起来。他接过CD，趁她不注意时他将自己的电话号码放到柜台上，跑了出去……
丁零零零！！！
一天，电话铃急促地响起来，母亲接起电话说：“喂，您好！”是那个女孩儿！！！母亲开始伤心地哭诉：“你知道吗？他昨天‘走’了……”
电话那端沉默了片刻，只能听到母亲的啜泣声。后来，母亲到儿子房间去，她只是想念儿子，想看看他的衣物，于是打开了壁橱。
一大堆包好的CD映入母亲的眼帘，这些CD还都没拆开过。母亲感到很吃惊，她好奇地打开一个包装，从中取出CD，一张小纸条从里边掉了出来，她拾起来，看到上面这样写着：嗨……你好吗？我真的觉得你好可爱，高兴和我一起出去玩吗？爱你的乔斯林。
母亲被深深地感动了，她打开了另一个CD盒……又掉出一张小纸条，上面写着同样的话：嗨……你好吗？我真的觉得你好可爱，高兴和我一起出去玩吗？爱你的乔斯林。
爱就是在你做了巨大的思想斗争之后，最终能够决定舍弃一切去面对,去接受的东西。那时你要攥紧他（她）的手，说出“我爱你”。
■心灵小语
爱情是一种幸福又美妙的感觉，然而它也需要人们之间的沟通和表达，才能让被爱的人明白你的心意，如果爱他（她），就勇敢地说出来吧，别因为缺乏勇气而错失人生美好的缘分。
Say “I Love You”
Anonymous
There was once a guy who suffered from cancer, a cancer that can’t be cured. He was 18 years old and he could die anytime. All his life, he was stuck in his house being taken cared by his mother. He never went outside but he was sick of staying home and wanted to go out for once. So he asked his mother and she gave him permission.
He walked down his block and found a lot of stores. He passed a CD store and looked through the front door for a second as he walked. He stopped and went back to look into the store. He saw a beautiful girl about his age and he knew it was love at first sight. He opened the door and walked in, not looking at anything else but her. He walked closer and closer until he was finally at the front desk where she sat.
She looked up and asked, “Can I help you？”
She smiled and he thought it was the most beautiful smile he has ever seen before and wanted to kiss her right there.
He said, “Uh...Yeah...Umm... I would like to buy a CD.”
He picked one out and gave her money for it.
“Would you like me to wrap it for you？”she asked, smiling her cute smile again.
He nodded and she went to the back. She came back with the wrapped CD and gave it to him. He took it and walked out of the store.
He went home and from then on, he went to that store every day and bought a CD, and she wrapped1 it for him. He took the CD home and put it in his closet. He was still too shy to ask her out and he really wanted to but he couldn’t. His mother found out about this and told him to just ask her. So the next day, he took all his courage and went to the store as usual. He bought a CD like he did every day and once again she went to the back of the store and came back with it wrapped. He took it and when she wasn’t looking, he left his phone number on the desk and ran out...
RRRRRING！！！
One day the phone rang, and the mother picked it up and said, “Hello？”It was the girl！！！ The mother started to cry and said, “You don’t know？ He passed away yesterday...”
The line was quiet except for the cries of the boy’s mother. Later in the day, the mother went into the boy’s room because she wanted to remember him. She thought she would start by looking at his clothes. So she opened the closet.
She was face to face with piles and piles and piles of unopened CDs. She was surprised to find all these CDs and she picked one up and sat down on the bed and she started to open one. Inside, there was a CD and as she took it out of the wrapper, out fell a piece of paper. The mother picked it up and started to read it. It said，Hi...I think U R really cute. Do u wanna go out with me？ Love, Jocelyn.
The mother was deeply moved and opened another CD...Again there was a piece of paper. It said，Hi... I think U R really cute. Do u wanna go out with me？ Love, Jocelyn.
Love is...when you’ve had a huge fight but then decide to put aside2 your egos3, hold hands and
say,“ILoveYou.”
公共汽车上的乘客
佚名
当那位清秀俊美的女人拄着白色手杖，小心地迈上车门台阶时，巴士上的乘客们都十分同情地看着她。她向司机付了车费，用手摸索座位的方位，沿着过道往前走，找到司机告诉她的那个空位。然后她坐下来，把公文包放在大腿上，把手杖斜靠在腿边。
34岁的苏珊，双目失明已经一年了。一起医疗误诊事故让她再也看不到任何东西。刹那间，她陷入了一个黑暗、愤怒、沮丧与自怜的世界。失明之前，苏珊是个非常独立的女性，命运的无常让她变得脆弱不堪，成了身边每个人的负担。“为什么这种事会发生在我身上？”她无助地祷告，心中压抑了满腔的愤怒。
然而，不管她怎样哭泣、叫喊或祈祷，她都知道那令人伤心欲绝的事实——她的眼睛再也不能复明了。消沉忧郁取代了苏珊昔日乐观的性格，她在沮丧和疲惫中艰难度日。她唯一能依靠的只有丈夫马克。
马克是位空军军官，他全身心地爱着苏珊。苏珊刚失明的时候，马克眼睁睁地看着妻子陷入绝望之中。他决心要帮助妻子增强自信心和力量，重新独立起来。马克的军人背景使他能够很好地处理各种微妙的事件，然而他明白，眼前的这场战役将是有生以来最为艰难的。
终于，苏珊感觉自己可以重新回到工作中去了。可她怎么去上班呢？苏珊过去常常是乘公共汽车去，可如今她根本不敢独自一人在城里转。虽然马克和妻子分别在城郊的两头工作，可他甘愿每天开车送她去上班。
刚一开始，这种做法既让苏珊得到了满足，也使马克尽到了保护双目失明的、遇到一点小事就没有自信的妻子的责任。然而没过多久，马克意识到这样的安排并不明智——不但上班匆忙，而且花费颇高。他暗地里思量，还是应该让苏珊乘公交去上班。可是，仅是向她提出这种想法，就已令他有些犹豫了。妻子还那么脆弱，那么易怒。她听了会有什么反应呢？
正如马克猜测的那样，苏珊对让她重新乘公交上下班感到十分吃惊。“我是个瞎子！”她伤心地回答道，“我怎么知道我要去哪儿？我觉得你想抛弃我。”
听了妻子这些话，马克感觉心都快碎了。不过他心里明白，自己必须要这么做。他向苏珊保证，每天早晚他都会和她一起乘公交车，直到她彻底适应为止，不管这个过程持续多久。而事实也并非完全按照想象的那样发展。
在随后的整整两个星期里，马克身着军装、全副武装地陪着苏珊上下班，没有错过一天。他教她如何凭借其他感官，尤其是听觉，去判断自己的位置，以及如何调整自己去适应新的环境。他帮助苏珊和司机们成为朋友，这样司机们就可以留意她的安全，为她留个座位了。他一直哄她笑，逗她开心，即使是在那些倒霉的日子——妻子下车时摔了一跤或是包掉在地上了。
他们每天早晨都会一起出门，然后马克再乘的士返回办公室。虽然这样做花费的钱和精力远比先前多得多，可马克知道，苏珊能够独自乘公交仅仅是时间问题。他相信她，相信他以前认识的那个苏珊，那个双目失明前的苏珊。她以前是从不畏惧任何挑战，永不放弃的。
最终，苏珊下决心要试试自己独自乘车了。到了星期一早晨，出发前，她紧紧抱着马克——她临时的乘车同伴、她的丈夫、她的挚友。
苏珊的眼睛里溢出了感激的泪水，为他的忠诚、他的耐心和他的爱。她说了声再见，在苏珊失明以后，两人第一次分别行动了。星期一，星期二，星期三，星期四……每天她都能独自面对这一切，苏珊感觉好极了。她做到了！她能一个人去上班了！
星期五早晨，苏珊像平时一样乘车上班。当她付完车费准备下车的时候，司机说道：“哎呀，我真羡慕你。”苏珊不确定司机是不是在和自己说话。毕竟，到底会有谁会羡慕我呢——一个在过去的一年中一直挣扎着、寻求活下去的勇气的瞎女人？
她感到十分纳闷，于是就问司机：“为什么你说羡慕我呢？”司机回答道：“像你那样被照顾和保护的感觉一定很不错吧。”苏珊弄不懂司机的意思，于是她又问：“你这么说是什么意思？”
司机回答道：“你不知道，上周的每个早晨，当你下车的时候，总会有一个身着军装、英俊潇洒的先生站在对面的角落里看着你，以确定你安全穿过马路，看着你走进办公楼，送你一个飞吻，向你稍微敬个礼后才会离开。你是个幸运的女人。”
幸福的泪水不禁从脸颊滚落下来。尽管苏珊看不到马克，可她却一直感觉到他就在身边。她是幸运的，是那样的幸运，因为她拥有了一份比视力更有用的礼物，一份无须亲眼目睹的礼物，一份为黑暗带来光明的礼物，那就是爱。
■心灵小语
命运作弄，人的生活也不会总是一帆风顺。除了甜甜蜜蜜的爱情，婚姻中的男女更多的是相互扶持的两个紧紧相连的个体。年轻时的花前月下、卿卿我我，远不如灾难中的相依相偎更真实。婚姻，不需要什么海誓山盟，只要在阴郁的日子里默默地付出就够了。
The Bus Passenger
Anonymous
The passengers on the bus watched sympathetically as the attractive young woman with the white cane made her way carefully up the steps. She paid the driver and, using her hands to feel the location of the seats, walked down the aisle and found the seat he’d told her was empty. Then she settled in, placed her briefcase on her lap and rested her cane against her leg.
It had been a year since Susan, thirtyfour, became blind. Due to a medical misdiagnosis1 she had been rendered sightless, and she was suddenly thrown into a world of darkness, anger, frustration and selfpity. Once a fiercely independent woman, Susan now felt condemned by this terrible twist of fate to become a powerless, helpless burden on everyone around her. “How could this have happened to me？” she would plead, her heart knotted with anger.
But no matter how much she cried or ranted or prayed, she knew the painful truth her sight was never going to return. A cloud of depression hung over Susan’s once optimistic spirit. Just getting through each day was an exercise in frustration and exhaustion. And all she had to cling to was her husband Mark.
Mark was an Air Force officer and he loved Susan with all of his heart. When she first lost her sight, he watched her sink into despair and was determined to help his wife gain the strength and confidence she needed to become independent again. Mark’s military background had trained him well to deal with sensitive situations, and yet he knew this was the most difficult battle he would ever face.
Finally, Susan felt ready to return to her job, but how would she get there？ She used to take the bus, but was now too frightened to get around the city by herself. Mark volunteered to drive her to work each day, even though they worked at opposite ends of the city.
At first, this comforted Susan and fulfilled Mark’s need to protect his sightless wife who was so insecure about performing the slightest task. Soon, however, Mark realized that this arrangement wasn’t working—it was hectic2, and costly. Susan is going to have to start taking the bus again, he admitted to himself. But just the thought of mentioning it to her made him cringe. She was still so fragile, so angry. How would she react？
Just as Mark predicted, Susan was horrified at the idea of taking the bus again. “I’m blind！” she responded bitterly. “How am I supposed to know where I’m going？ I feel like you’re abandoning me.”
Mark’s heart broke to hear these words, but he knew what had to be done. He promised Susan that each morning and evening he would ride the bus with her, for as long as it took, until she got the hang of it. And that is exactly what happened.
For two solid weeks, Mark, military uniform and all, accompanied Susan to and from work each day. He taught her how to rely on her other senses, specifically her hearing, to determine where she was and how to adapt to3 her new environment. He helped her befriend the bus drivers who could watch out for her, and save her a seat. He made her laugh, even on those notsogood days when she would trip exiting the bus, or drop her briefcase.
Each morning they made the journey together, and Mark would take a cab back to his office. Although this routine was even more costly and exhausting than the previous one, Mark knew it was only a matter of time before Susan would be able to ride the bus on her own. He believed in her, in the Susan he used to know before she’d lost her sight, who wasn’t afraid of any challenge and who would never, ever quit.
Finally, Susan decided that she was ready to try the trip on her own. Monday morning arrived, and before she left, she threw her arms around Mark, her temporary bus riding companion, her husband, and her best friend.
Her eyes filled with tears of gratitude for his loyalty4, his patience, and his love. She said goodbye, and for the first time, they went their separate ways. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday... Each day on her own went perfectly, and Susan had never felt better. She was doing it！ She was going to work all by herself！
On Friday morning, Susan took the bus to work as usual. As she was paying for her fare to exit the bus, the driver said, “Boy, I sure envy you.” Susan wasn’t sure if the driver was speaking to her or not. After all, who on earth would ever envy a blind woman who had struggled just to find the courage to live for the past year？
Curious, she asked the driver,“Why do you say that you envy me？” The driver responded, “It must feel so good to be taken care of and protected like you are.” Susan had no idea what the driver was talking about, and asked again, “What do you mean？”
The driver answered, “You know, every morning for the past week, a fine looking gentleman in a military uniform has been standing across the corner watching you when you get off the bus. He makes sure you cross the street safely and he watches you until you enter your office building. Then he blows you a kiss, gives you a little salute5 and walks away. You are one lucky lady.”
Tears of happiness poured down Susan’s cheeks. For although she couldn’t physically see him, she had always felt Mark’s presence. She was lucky, so lucky, for he had given her a gift more powerful than sight, a gift she didn’t need to see to believe—the gift of love that can bring light where there is darkness.
爱的港湾
佚名
爱的羽翼会在何处驻足，无人知晓。偶尔，她可能会出现在最不寻常的地方。令人难以置信的是，她突然降临在洛杉矶郊区的一家康复医院，这里的大多数病人都丧失了最基本的身体机能。
医院的工作人员听到这个消息时，一些护士哭了，院长哈利震惊了。但从那时起，哈利把它当作一生中最伟大的日子，为它祈祷。
现在，怎么给他们缝制结婚礼服呢？可能有些麻烦，但哈利知道职员们会找到解决的办法。一个护士提出自愿效劳，他放心了，希望这会是两位病人——朱安娜和迈克一生中最美好的时光。
一天早晨，迈克出现在哈利的办公室门口，他的身体用带子缚在轮椅上，借助呼吸器呼吸。
“哈利，我想结婚。”迈克说道。
“结婚？”哈利张大了嘴巴，这太严重了，“和谁呢？”哈利问。
“朱安娜，”迈克说，“我们恋爱了。”
爱情，爱情穿越了医院的大门，降临在两个完全瘫痪的人身上，并进驻他们的心灵——尽管两位病人衣食不能自理，需要呼吸器才能呼吸，而且永远不能行走。迈克得了脊髓肌肉萎缩症，朱安娜身患多发性硬化病。
结婚的念头如此真切，当迈克拿出结婚戒指，露出多年不见的笑容时，态度就更加明显了。事实上，此时的迈克是医护人员见过的最温柔、最善良的。而此前他一直是公认的脾气最暴躁的人。
迈克的暴躁是可以理解的。25年来，他一直住在医疗中心。9岁时，他妈妈把他送来后，每周来看几次，直到去世。他经常大发雷霆，把护士骂走，但至少他觉得医院是他的家，病人们都是他的朋友。
曾经有一个女孩，坐在吱吱作响的轮椅里。迈克想，她一定注意到自己了。但她并没有在这里待很久。迈克在那儿度过了生命的一大半后，再也不想待下去了。
医疗中心要关门了，迈克被转移到另一家康复医院，远离了他的朋友们。
迈克开始变得孤僻，宁愿待在黑暗的房间里，整日足不出户。朋友驱车两个多小时来看他，他依然情绪低落，没有人能贴近他的心。
有一天，他躺在床上，突然，走廊传来一阵熟悉的吱吱声。古老的轮椅吱吱作响，就像在以前的中心遇到的女孩——朱安娜所坐的轮椅发出的。
吱吱声在他的门口停住了，朱安娜凝视着他，问他能否和她一起外出。他立即兴奋起来，再次见到她的那一刻，他的生命似乎重新回来了。
他开始再次仰望蓝天白云，参加医院的娱乐活动，不知疲倦地与朱安娜聊天。他的房间充满了阳光和欢声笑语。不久，他向从24岁就在轮椅上生活的朱安娜求婚，想知道她是否愿意嫁给他。
朱安娜曾经度过一段非常艰辛的日子。她经常因身体虚弱而昏倒，没能读完三年级。母亲以为她偷懒，总打她。她生活在恐惧中，一直担心母亲要抛弃她，所以，身体好些时，她就会像小女佣一样打扫房间。
24岁前，她和迈克一样，做过一次气管切开术，以使呼吸畅通。也就是在那个时候，她被确诊患有多发性硬化症。30岁时，她被送进医院接受24小时的全天护理。
所以，当迈克问她这个“重大”问题时，朱安娜想，如果他是在戏弄她，那将会给她带来无法承受的痛苦。
“他说爱我时，我非常害怕，”她说，“我想他是在跟我开玩笑。但他说，他是认真的，他爱我。”
情人节那天，朱安娜穿着一件白色的绸缎婚纱，上面缀满珍珠，而且宽松得遮住了轮椅和呼吸器。哈利自豪地把她推到房门前，她激动得泪流满面。
迈克穿着笔挺的白色衬衣和黑色夹克，脖子上还打了个精美的蝴蝶结，满脸洋溢着幸福的微笑。
护士和病人们挤满了走廊、房间，就连大厅也满是医护人员。房间的每个角落都传来呜咽声。医院有史以来，还没有两个在轮椅上生活的人结合在一起的先例。
医院的娱乐节目主持人珍妮特策划好了一切活动。医护人员用捐来的钱买了红色、白色的气球，树叶缠绕的拱门，搭配上鲜花。珍妮特请医院的厨师制作了一个三层柠檬味的结婚蛋糕。一个营销顾问还请来了摄影师。
珍妮特跟家人谈论起此事，感慨万千，看到这对有情人终成眷属是她一生中最费解，也最开心的时刻。
她思索了很多。
最后的程序——接吻，无法完成。珍妮特用白绸缎把这对新人的轮椅系在一起，以此来象征这浪漫的时刻。
婚礼结束后，牧师强忍着眼泪，悄悄走了出去：“我主持了无数次的婚礼，但这次，是最激动人心的。”牧师说，“他们克服了艰难险阻，找到了最纯洁的爱情。”
那晚，迈克和朱安娜第一次共入新房。他们知道，他们真挚的爱情打动了很多人，他们收获了最珍贵的礼物，也收获了最纯洁的爱情。爱情，你永远无法知道它会在何处驻足。
■心灵小语
没有人能够知道，爱情的翅膀会在什么地方驻足。然而，只有不畏惧艰难险阻，才能找到纯洁的爱情。所以，勇敢地去追求，爱神之箭终会帮你找到世界上最为珍贵的爱。
Where Love Lands
Anonymous
No one knows where love’s wings will land. At times, it turns up in the most unusual spots. There was nothing more surprising than when it descended upon a rehabilitation hospital in a Los Angeles suburb—a hospital where most of the patients can no longer move of their own accord.
When the staff heard the news, some of the nurses began to cry. The administrator was in shock, but from then on, Harry MacNarama would bless it as one of the greatest days in his entire life.
Now the trouble was, how were they going to make the wedding dress？ He knew his staff would find a way, and when one of his nurses volunteered, Harry was relieved. He wanted this to be the finest day in the lives of two of his patients—Juana and Michael.
Michael strapped in his wheelchair and breathing through his ventilator, appeared at Harry’s office door one morning.
“Harry, I want to get married, ”Michael announced.
“Married？” Harry’s mouth dropped open. How serious was this？ “To who？ ”Harry asked.
“To Juana, ”Michael said. “We’re in love.”
Love. Love had found its way through the hospital doors, over two bodies that refused to work for their owners and penetrated their hearts—despite the fact that the two patients were unable to feed or cloth themselves, required ventilators just to breath and could never walk again. Michael had spinal muscular atrophy; Juana had multiple sclerosis.
Just how serious this marriage idea was, became quite apparent when Michael pulled out the engagement ring and beamed as he hadn’t done in years. In fact, the staff had never seen a kinder, sweeter Michael, who had been one of the angriest men Harry’s employees had ever worked with.
The reason for Michael’s anger was understandable. For twentyfive years, he had lived his life at a medical center where his mother had placed him at age nine and visited him several times a week until she died. He was always a raspy sort of guy, who cussed out his nurses routinely, but at least he felt he had family at the hospital. The patients were his friends.
There even had been a girl once who went about in a squeaky wheelchair who he was sure had eyed him. But she hadn’t stayed long at the center. And after spending more than half his life there, now Michael wasn’t going to get to stay either.
The center was closing, and Michael was shipped to live at the rehabilitation hospital, far from his friends and worse, far from Betty.
That’s when Michael turned into a recluse. He wouldn’t come out from his room. He left it dark. His friends drove more than two hours to see him. But Michael’s spirits sagged so low, no one could reach him.
And then, one day, he was lying in bed when he heard a familiar creaking sound coming down the hall. It sounded like that same, ancient, squeaky wheelchair that girl, Juana, had used at the center where he used to live.
The squeaking stopped at his door, and Juana peered in and asked him to come outdoors with her. He was intrigued and from the moment he met Juana again, it was as though she breathed life back into him.
He was staring at the clouds and blue skies again. He began to participate in the hospital’s recreation programs. He spent hours talking with Juana. His room was sunny and light. And then he asked Juana, who’d been living in a wheelchair since age twentyfour, if she would marry him.
Juana had already had a tough life. She was pulled out of school before finishing the third grade, because she collapsed and fell a lot. Her mother, thinking she was lazy, slapped her around. She lived in terror that her mother wouldn’t want her anymore, so on the occasions when she was well enough, she cleaned house “like a little maid”.
Before the age of twentyfour, like Michael, she had a tracheotomy just to breathe and that was when she was officially diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. By the time she was thirty, she had moved into a hospital with roundtheclock care.
So when Michael asked her the big question, she didn’t think she could handle the pain if he was teasing.
“He told me he loved me, and I was so scared,” she said. “I thought he was playing a game with me. But he told me it was true. He told me he loved me.”
On Valentine’s Day, Juana wore a wedding dress made of white satin, dotted with pearl beads and cut loose enough to drape around a wheelchair and a ventilator. Juana was rolled to the front of the room, assisted by Harry, who proudly gave the bride away. Her face streamed with tears.
Michael wore a crisp white shirt, black jacket and a bow tie that fit neatly over his tracheotomy. He beamed with pleasure.
Nurses filled the doorways. Patients filled the room. An overflow of hospital employees spilled into the halls. Sobs echoed in every comer of the room. In the hospital’s history, no two people—living their lives bound to wheelchairs—had ever married.
Janet Yamaguchi, the hospital’s recreation leader, had planned everything. Employees had donated their own money to buy the red and white balloons, matching flowers, and an archway dotted with leaves. Janet had the hospital chef make a threetiered, lemonfilled wedding cake. A marketing consultant hired a photographer.
Janet negotiated with family members. It was one of the most trying and satisfying times of her life to watch the couple get married.
She thought of everything.
The final touch—the kiss—could not be completed. Janet used a white satin rope to tie the couple’s wheelchairs to symbolize the romantic moment.
After the ceremony, the minister slipped out trying to hold back her tears. “I’ve performed thousands of weddings, but this is the most wonderful one I’ve done so far,” the minister said. “These people have passed the barriers and showed pure love.”
That evening, Michael and Juana rolled into their own room for the first time together. Michael and Juana knew they had moved many people with their love, and they had been given the greatest gift of all. They had the gift of love. And it’s never known where it will land.
爱的时刻
佚名
第一次见到她时，她正在校园的操场上漫步。我站在那里，目光追随着她的倩影，呆住了。她就是我的至爱，我对自己说。
开学的第一天，我向同学问起她，他们说她已经有男朋友了，让我忘了她。
几个月后，我听说她跟男朋友分手了。但是，至少过了半年后，我才约会她。我打电话到她寝室，紧张得吐字不清，甚至把她名字的前后音节都说反了。“周六晚上请你吃晚饭，好吗？”提议完，我尴尬极了，害怕遭她拒绝。“很高兴。”她似乎很开心地回答。
星期六，我去宿舍接她，她的美丽再次深深地打动了我。我在30里外的餐馆预订了晚餐。开车去那儿时，却迷路了，在乡间小路上漫无目的地转了一个多小时。我越来越焦躁，她却一直兴致高昂，她说，她读过这些乡村的历史，很高兴能来游玩。
我们最终没能找到那家餐馆，汽油也快用完了。10点时，我们才吃了点汉堡和油炸食品，算是晚餐。她美丽的花裙，金黄的直发，娇好的面容，站在当地孩子中间显得更加光彩照人。
回到学校后，我正要为那个夜晚道歉，但感觉到她温暖的手，抓住了我的手，然后迅速地在我脸上吻了一下，温柔地说道：“谢谢你让我度过了一个快乐的夜晚。”我还没回过神来，她已跑进寝室，在我眼前消失了。
曾有多少这样的时刻啊——充满了包容、优雅与爱意，我几乎不敢相信。记得婚礼那天，在太平洋海滨，那个清新的星期天早晨，她挽着父亲的手步入教堂，我站在旁边凝视着她即将成为我妻子的时刻；或是我们的两个孩子出生，她经历了旁人无法体会的分娩痛楚后，脸上因欣喜而光彩四溢的时刻。
但是1993年10月15日，情形却完全不同。那天，在度过了一个难眠之夜后，我们早上5点钟就起床了。当手术刀即将划开你心上人的血肉肌肤时，你又怎能安然入眠呢？她吻了吻我们两个熟睡的孩子，但他们却没有醒来对她说“祝您好运”或者“我爱您，妈妈”。到了医院，签完一些文件后，我看她换上一件褪了色的棉袍和一双袜子，似乎手术室最大的伤害是寒冷。
她扑到我怀里哭着说不做手术。我握着她的手，注射器扎进她的手臂，泪水很快停住了，那原本清澈，机灵的双眼，现在满是恐惧，慢慢地合上了。
我痛苦而慌乱地与她吻别，然后，看着她穿过那道无情的门，被推进手术室。我整天待在候诊室，用校对稿子来分散我的焦虑。
快傍晚了，她才回到病房，胸前缠着一大片绷带，我想她会喜欢那个外科医生精心而巧妙地给她缠的绷带。我想起我们的孩子还是婴儿时，她为他们的摇篮缝制床单。这些绷带看起来亲切又安全可靠——不像我想的那么粗糙。
灯光昏暗的房间里，充斥着强烈的消毒水味儿。我坐在她旁边，感到我们的生命是如此息息相关。我，也是病人，茫然地盯着窗外灰粉色的云彩掠过午后的天空，感到心力交瘁。
差不多快七点了，她微微动了一下，听到她的呻吟，我移到床边，从桌子上的水罐里拿出一点冰片，轻轻触了一下她的嘴唇，拂开她额前被汗水沁湿的灰白头发。
“我爱你。”我说。
听到这些话，她慢慢地睁开眼睛，目光开始很模糊，没有焦点，很快，她敏锐地认出我来，嘴角浮现出一抹温柔的笑。
“我也爱你。”她呢喃道，眼睛又闭上了。我几乎筋疲力尽。回想起第一次见到她的情景。仿佛又回到了年轻时代，那个阳光灿烂的早上。她就是我的至爱。我再一次发自内心地说道，她就是我的至爱。
Moments of Love
Anonymous
When I first saw her, she was walking across the medschool quad. I stood motionless Anonymous as if stunned, following her with my eyes. She is the one, I said to myself.
It was the first day of school. When I asked a classmate about her, he told me to forget it. She has a boyfriend, he said.
A few months later I heard she’d ended her relationship. But I waited at least half a year to ask for a date. When I telephoned her dormitory and asked nervously for her, I transposed the syllables of her first and last names into ludicrous garble. “Dinner on Saturday？” I proposed, embarrassed and expecting rejection. “I would enjoy that,” she answered, sounding pleased.
On Saturday I greeted her at the dorm and was again entranced by her loveliness. I had made reservations at a restaurant 30 miles away. I lost my way and drove aimlessly on rural roads for an hour as my exasperation mounted. She remained goodhumored happy, she said, to tour villages whose histories she had read about.
We never located the restaurant, and then almost ran out of gas. We finally ate at 10 p.m., hamburgers and fries at a dinner. In her floral dress, with her straight blond hair and classic features, she stood out among the local kids.
Back at school, I was ready to apologize for the evening. But I felt her warm hand take mine, and then she quickly kissed my cheek. “Thank you for a wonderful evening,” she said softly. Before I comprehended what had happened, she disappeared into the dormitory.
How many times have there been moments like that, moments of such encompassing grace and love that I doubted their actuality？ Moments like the day of our marriage, when on a crisp Sunday morning on the Pacific coast she entered the church on her father’s arm and I gazed down the aisle at my soontobe wife. Or the moments when our two children were born and her face became radiant as she emerged from the unreachable realm of labor into exaltation.
But October 15, 1993, was different. That day, we arose at 5 a. m., having a hard slept. How can you rest when a blade will soon sever flesh so dear？ She kissed both of our children as they slept, but they never stirred or said “Good luck” or “I love you, Mommy.” In the hospital, after we signed the papers, I watched her change into a faded cotton gown and two pairs of socks, as if the worst injury that day would be the chill of the operating room.
She cried in my arms and said she didn’t want the surgery. I held her hand as an I. V. was ‘ed into her arm. In a few seconds her tears stopped and she closed those eyes that had always seemed so clever and clear, but now looked so fearful.
Feeling frantic and disconnected I kissed her, and then she was wheeled away through the unforgiving doors of the operating suite. I spent the day in the waiting room polishing a manuscript whose only significance was its power to distract.
When she returned to her room late that afternoon, on her chest was an expanse of billowing white bandage placed by a surgeon’s hands with a precision and delicacy she would have admired. I was reminded of the coverlet she had appliqued for our children’s cradle when they were infants. The bandage looked gentle and protectivereassuring and not as harsh as I had expected.
Sitting beside her in a dimly lit room that smelled sharply of disinfectant, I realized that because my life was so intertwined with hers, I, too, was a patient. I felt depleted and wrecked as I stared blankly out the window at pinkgray clouds slowly traversing the afternoon sky.
It was almost 7 p. m. before she stirred. I heard her moan, and moved to the edge of the bed. I lightly touched her lips with an ice chip from the pitcher on her bedside table, and brushed the grayflecked hair across her sweaty brow.
“I love you, ”I said.
At these words, her eyes opened hesitantly. At first her gaze seemed confused and unfocused, but for an instant her eyes sharpened with recognition, and a gentle smile lifted the edges of her mouth.
“I love you too, ”she whispered, and then her eyelids shut. I was close to exhaustion and dislocated in time as I recalled the moment I first saw her. It was as if I was young again and the sun was resplendent in the morning sky. She is the one, I said once more in my mind’s voice. She is the one.
爱的约会
佚名
在纽约地铁中心总站，咨询处上方的时钟显示的时间是5点54分。年轻高大的陆军中尉抬起黝黑的脸庞，眯着眼睛看上面的时间，一颗心激动得怦怦直跳，6分钟后，他就要见到那个女人了——在过去的13个月里一直占据着他心灵某个特殊位置的女人。虽然他们素未谋面，但她的信却一直是他的精神支柱。
布兰福德中尉记得那天，战斗最艰苦的时刻，他的飞机被敌机重重包围。他曾在一封信里对她坦言，他常会感到畏惧。就在战斗打响的前几天，他收到了她的回信：“你当然会畏惧……勇士们都会那样，下次在你不自信时，我希望你能听到我为你朗诵的声音：‘啊，是的，尽管我要走过死亡之谷，但我将勇往直前，因为你与我同在。’……”他记得，正是那封信使他重新振作。
此时，他就要听到她真实的声音了，还有4分钟就6点了。
一个女孩走近他，布兰福德中尉一惊。她戴着一朵花，但不是他们约好的那种红玫瑰。这个女孩只有18岁左右，而霍丽丝.梅内尔告诉过他，她已30岁。“有什么关系呢？”他还回信说，“我32岁”，其实他只有29岁。
他又想到了在训练营时看过的一本书——《人性的枷锁》，书里有一个女人写的批注。他难以相信，一个女人竟能如此透彻地读懂男人的心。书签上有她的名字：霍丽丝.梅内尔。于是他找来一本纽约市电话簿，查到了地址，给她写信，并收到了回信。因为执行任务，第二天他就坐船离开了，但他们仍然保持通信。
13个月里，她始终诚挚地给他回信，通常是他的信还未到，她的信就来了。因此，他深信，他们彼此深爱着。
然而，她拒绝送他照片，并解释说：“如果你真心对我，我的外表并不重要。如果我长得很漂亮，我会认为，你是爱我的外貌，那样会令我很反感。如果我长相平凡（你必须承认这个更有可能），就会担心，你和我通信，是因为内心孤独，无人倾诉。别向我要照片。你来纽约时就可以看到我了，可以在那时作出某些决定。”
还有1分钟就6点了……布兰福德猛抽了一口烟，心跳更加快了。
一位年轻的女士向他走来，她身材苗条，金黄的卷发拢在小巧的耳后，双唇红润，下巴精致，眼睛深蓝动人。她穿着淡绿的西装，浑身散发着青春的活力。
他开始向她走去，根本没注意她是否戴着玫瑰花，他走近，看到她嘴角浮起动人的微笑。
“问路吗，军人？”她轻轻地说。他又走近一步，接着，他看到了霍丽丝.梅内尔。
霍丽丝.梅内尔就站在这姑娘的身后，一个40多岁的女人，灰白的头发塞在破旧的帽子下面，很胖，厚实的双脚穿着低跟鞋。
可在她那皱巴巴的外衣上别着一朵红玫瑰。
绿衣女孩匆匆离去。
布兰福德心碎了，他多想跟着那女孩啊，然而他又真切地渴望见这个女人，是她的精神一直陪伴他，激励他；她就站在那里，苍白丰满的面庞，温柔而理性；灰色的眼睛里闪着温和的光芒。
布兰福德没有犹豫，他紧抓着那本破旧的《人性的枷锁》，它是向她证明身份的依据。尽管这不会是爱情，但是一种珍贵的东西，是他曾经拥有并要感激的友情……
尽管因深深的失望而感到痛苦，布兰福德仍摆正双肩，敬了个礼，然后把书递给那个女人，“我是约翰.布兰福德，您——您是梅内尔女士吧，我可以——可以请您吃饭吗？”
女人微笑着。“孩子，我不明白这是怎么回事，”她说道，“那位穿绿衣服的年轻小姐请求我戴上这朵玫瑰，她说如果你请我一块出去，就告诉你，她在街对面的餐厅等你。她说这是一种考验。”
■心灵小语
爱情之花需要甘露的沐浴才能绽放。如果你是一个向往爱情的人，那么开始用美好的品质来浇这盆爱之花，这样它才能成长，才能长出蓓蕾，才能美丽绽放。
Appointment with Love
Anonymous
Six minutes to six, said the clock over the information booth in New York’s Grand Central Station. The tall, young Army lieutenant1 lifted his sunburned face and narrowed his eyes to note the exact time. His heart was pounding with a beat. In six minutes he would see the woman who had filled such a special place in his life for the past 13 months, the woman he had never seen, yet whose written words had sustained2 him unfailingly.
Lieutenant Blandford remembered one day in particular, during the worst of the fighting, when his plane had been caught in the midst of a pack of enemy planes. In one of his letters he had confessed3 to her that he often felt fear, and only a few days before this battle he had received her answer，“Of course you fear... all brave men do. Next time you doubt yourself, I want you to hear my voice reciting to you，‘ Yeah, though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me.’...” He had remembered, and it had renewed his strength.
Now he was going to hear her real voice. Four minutes to six.
A girl passed close to him, and Lieutenant Blandford started. She was wearing a flower, but it was not the little red rose they had agreed upon. Besides, this girl was only about 18, and Hollis Meynell had told him she was 30. “What of it？” he had answered. “I’m 32.” He was 29.
His mind went back to that book he had read in the training camp. Of Human Bondage it was; and throughout the book were notes in a woman’s handwriting. He had never believed that a woman could see into a man’s heart so tenderly, so understandingly. Her name was on the book plate: Hollis Meynell. He had got hold of a New York City telephone book and found her address. He had written; she had answered. Next day he had been shipped out, but they had gone on writing.
For 13 months she had faithfully replied. When his letters did not arrive, she wrote anyway, and now he believed that he loved her and that she loved him.
But she had refused all his pleas to send him her photograph. She had explained， “If your feeling for me has any reality, what I look like won’t matter. Suppose I’m beautiful. I’d always be haunted4 by the feeling that you had been taking a chance on just that, and that kind of love would disgust me. Suppose I’m plain (and you must admit that this is more likely), then I’d always fear that you were only going on writing because you were lonely and had no one else. No, don’t ask for my picture. When you come to New York, you shall see me and then you shall make your decision.”
One minute to six ... he pulled hard on a cigarette. Then Lieutenant Blandford’s heart leaped.
A young woman was coming toward him. Her figure was long and slim; her blond hair lay back in curls over her delicate ears. Her eyes were as blue as flowers, her lips and chin had a gentle firmness. In her palegreen suit, she was like springtime come alive.
He started toward her, forgetting to notice that she was wearing no rose, and as he moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips.
“Going my way, soldier？” she murmured. He made one step closer to her. Then he saw Hollis Meynell.
She was standing almost directly behind the girl, a woman well past 40, her graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She was more than plump5; her thick ankled feet were thrust into lowheeled shoes.
But she wore a red rose on her rumpled coat. The girl in the green suit was walking quickly. Blandford felt as though he were being split into two, so keen was his desire to follow the girl, yet so deep was his longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned and upheld his own; and there she stood. He could see her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible; her gray eyes had a warm twinkle6.
Lieutenant Blandford did not hesitate. His fingers gripped the worn copy of Human Bondage which was to identify him to her. This would not be love, but it would be something precious, a friendship for which he had been and must ever be grateful...
He squared his shoulders, saluted, and held the book out toward the woman, although even while he spoke he felt the bitterness of his disappointment. “I’m John Blandford, and you—you are Miss Meynell. May—may I take you to dinner？”
The woman smiled. “I don’t know what this is all about, son,” she answered. “That young lady in the green suit, she begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said that if you asked me to go out with you, I should tell you she’s waiting for you in that restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of a test.”
来自天堂的玫瑰
佚名
红玫瑰是她的最爱，她的名字叫罗斯，也是“玫瑰”的意思。每年情人节，丈夫都要送她一些玫瑰花，并用漂亮的丝带扎着。丈夫去世的那年，她依然收到了玫瑰花，卡片像往年一样写着：“献给我的爱人！”
每年，丈夫送她花时，都要写下这样一些话：“我爱你，今朝更胜往昔。”“时光流转，我对你的爱历久弥新。”她知道，这是她最后一次收到丈夫的玫瑰花了。
她想，玫瑰花一定是他预订的。她亲爱的丈夫或许不知道，自己会死去。他总喜欢提前把一些事情安排妥当，这样，即使再忙，也可以从容应对，处理好一切。
她修剪好枝叶，将花插到一个别致的花瓶里。然后，把花瓶放到面带微笑的丈夫的遗像旁。她在丈夫最喜欢的椅子里一坐就是几个小时，伴着玫瑰花，凝神地望着他的照片。
一年终于过去了，没有丈夫的日子十分难挨。在孤独与寂寞中，她又迎来一个情人节。情人节前夕，家里门铃响了，有人送来一束玫瑰花，放在了门口。
她把玫瑰花拿进屋，吃惊地看着它们。然后走到电话旁，拨通了花店的电话，是店主接的，她要他解释为什么还有人送花给她，增添她的悲伤。
“我知道您的丈夫一年前就过世了，”店主说，“我也知道您会打电话来问究竟的。您今天收到的花，已经提前付过款了。您丈夫总是提前做好计划，万无一失，而预订好的。
“他预付了花款，委托我们每年给您送花。还有一件事，我想您有必要知道,还有一张特别的小卡片……是他去年写的。
“那张卡片……是他让我们要在他死后的第二年送给您。现在他不在了，所以就把卡片送给您了。”
她谢过店主，挂断了电话，泪如泉涌。她的手抖动着，慢慢地伸向那张卡片。
卡片里丈夫写给她的一张便条，她静静地注视着它，这是他亲手写给她的……“亲爱的，你好！我知道我已经离开你一年了，我希望这一年里你没有受太多的苦。
“我知道这一年你一定很孤单，很痛苦。如果换上我是你，我也会那样的。我们的爱使生命中的一切都变得美好。我对你的爱用语言无法表达，你是我完美的爱妻。
“你是我的朋友，我的爱人，你让我时刻都心满意足。我知道这才仅仅过去一年，但我还是要你努力去忘记痛苦。我想让你快乐，即使流泪也是因幸福而泣。所以每年我都要送你玫瑰花。
“当你收到这些玫瑰时，想想我们一起度过的美好时光，我们曾经是多么幸福呀！我一直深爱着你，并将一直深爱下去。但是，亲爱的，答应我，一定要好好活着。
“请努力寻找幸福，珍惜生命中的每一天。我知道那并不容易，但我仍希望你能努力去做。玫瑰花每年都会如期而至，除非你不再应门，花店才会停止送花。
“每年送花时，花店派人来送五次，以免你外出。五次来访后，送花人便可确定把花送到我告诉他们的另一个地方，那就是我们的重逢之地。”
■心灵小语
爱情，可以是瞬间的美丽，也可以成为一生的守护，而且历久弥新。所以，请相信，虽然岁月流转，但爱情依然可以毫不褪色，甚至可以更胜往昔。
Roses for Rose
Anonymous
Red roses were her favorites, her name was also Rose. And every year her husband sent them, tied with pretty bows. The year he died, the roses were delivered to her door. The card said, “Be my Valentine,” like all the years before.
Each year he sent her roses, and the note would always say, “I love you even more this year, than last year on this day.”
“My love for you will always grow, with every passing year.” She knew this was the last time that the roses would appear.
She thought, he ordered roses in advance1 before this day. Her loving husband did not know, that he would pass away. He always liked to do things early, way before the time. Then, if he got too busy, everything would work out fine.
She trimmed the stems, and placed them in a very special vase. Then, sat the vase beside the portrait of his smiling face. She would sit for hours, in her husband’s favorite chair. While staring at his picture, and the roses sitting there.
A year went by, and it was hard to live without her mate. With loneliness and solitude2, that had become her fate. Then, the very hour, as on Valentines before, the doorbell rang, and there were roses, sitting by her door.
She brought the roses in, and then just looked at them in shock. Then, went to get the telephone, to call the florist shop. The owner answered, and she asked him, if he would explain, why would someone do this to her, causing her such pain？
“I know your husband passed away, more than a year ago,” The owner said, “I knew you’d call, and you would want to know. The flowers you received today, were paid for in advance.Your husband always planned ahead, he left nothing to chance.
“There is a standing order, that I have on file down here, And he has paid, well in advance, you’ll get them every year. There also is another thing, that I think you should know, he wrote a special little card...he did this years ago.
“Then, should ever, I find out that he’s no longer here, that’s the card...that should be sent, to you the following year.”
She thanked him and hung up the phone, her tears now flowing hard. Her fingers shaking, as she slowly reached to get the card.
Inside the card, she saw that he had written her a note. Then, as she stared in total silence, this is what he wrote...“Hello, my love, I know it’s been a year since I’ve been gone, I hope it hasn’t been too hard for you to overcome.
“I know it must be lonely, and the pain is very real. For if it was the other way, I know how I would feel. The love we shared made everything so beautiful in life. I loved you more than words can say, you were the perfect wife.
“You were my friend and lover, you fulfilled my every need. I know it’s only been a year, but please try not to grieve3. I want you to be happy, even when you shed your tears. That is why the roses will be sent to you for years.
“When you get these roses, think of all the happiness, that we had together, and how both of us were blessed. I have always loved you and I know I always will. But, my love, you must go on, you have some living still.
“Please…try to find happiness, while living out your days. I know it is not easy, but I hope you find some ways. The roses will come every year, and they will only stop, when your door’s not answered, when the florist4 stops to knock.
“He will come five times that day, in case you have gone out. But after his last visit, he will know without a doubt, to take the roses to the place, where I’ve instructed him, and place the roses where we are, together once again.”
咸咖啡
佚名
他在一次晚会上遇见了她。她很迷人，有很多男孩子追求，而他往往被人忽略。晚会结束后，他请她出去喝咖啡，这让她很吃惊。出于礼貌，她去了。
他们坐在一家幽雅的咖啡店里。他紧张得说不出话来，而她也感到很拘束。突然，他叫来服务生，说道：“给我在咖啡里加点盐，好吗？”
她和服务生都看着他，他脸红了。盐端上来了，他往咖啡里放了一些，喝了起来。她好奇地问：“为什么要在咖啡里放盐呢？”他解释说：“小时候，我住在海边,喜欢在那里玩耍……海水是咸的，就像这杯咸咖啡。每次喝咖啡时，我就想起了童年和家乡。我怀念这种味道，想念那里的父母。”
她被深深地感动了。一个有思乡情结的男人一定很爱家，很关心家人。他一定是值得信赖的。
于是，她也谈起了她遥远的家乡，她的童年和家人。他们的爱情故事就这样拉开了帷幕。
之后，他们常常约会。她发现他宽容，善良、热情而细心，这些正符合她的标准。她想，若不是那杯咸咖啡，她或许就错过了他。
最后，他们结婚了，幸福地生活在一起。每每给他冲咖啡时，她总会放些盐，因为他喜欢喝咸咖啡。
40年后，他去世了，留了一封信给她，信中的内容是这样的：
亲爱的，请原谅我——有一个谎言，我隐瞒了你整整一生。还记得我们的第一次约会吗？我很紧张，原想要糖，却说成了盐。
再改过来很难，我只好将错就错。我从未想过要喝咸咖啡。许多次，我都想告诉你真相，但又担心说出来一切会化为泡影。
亲爱的，我并不喜欢喝咸咖啡，但你很在乎这个，我已经学着接受它了。与你在一起就是我最大的幸福。倘若我能重生，我希望还能和你在一起，即使这意味着余生都要喝咸咖啡，我也心甘情愿。
Salty Coffee
Anonymous
He met her at a party. She was outstanding1; many guys were after her, but nobody paid any attention to him. After the party, he invited her for coffee. She was surprised. So as not to appear rude, she went along.
As they sat in a nice coffee shop, he was too nervous to say anything and she felt uncomfortable. Suddenly, he asked the waiter, “Could you please give me some salt？ I’d like to put it in my coffee.”
They stared at him. He turned red, but when the salt came, he put it in his coffee and drank. Curious2, she asked, “Why salt with coffee？” He explained, “When I was a little boy, I lived near the sea. I liked playing on the sea ... I could feel its taste salty, like salty coffee. Now every time I drink it, I think of my childhood and my hometown. I miss it and my parents, who are still there.”
She was deeply touched. A man who can admit that he’s homesick3 must love his home and care about his family. He must be responsible.
She talked too, about her faraway hometown, her childhood, her family. That was the start to their love story.
They continued to date. She found that he met all her requirements. He was tolerant4, kind, warm and careful. And to think she would have missed the catch if not for the salty coffee！
So they married and lived happily together. And every time she made coffee for him, she put in some salt, the way he liked it.
After 40 years, he passed away and left her a letter which said，
My dearest, please forgive my lifelong lie. Remember the first time we dated？ I was so nervous I asked for salt instead of5 sugar.
It was hard for me to ask for a change, so I just went ahead. I never thought that we would hit it off. Many times, I tried to tell you the truth, but I was afraid that it would ruin everything.
Sweetheart, I don’t exactly like salty coffee. But as it mattered so much to you, I’ve learnt to enjoy it. Having you with me was my greatest happiness. If I could live a second time, I hope we can be together again, even if it means that I have to drink salty coffee for the rest of my life.
蝶吻
佚名
“你今天真漂亮。”每天早晨，新婚的丈夫都会对我说这句话。
只要照一下镜子就知道这句话与事实有多大差距。
镜中笑吟吟的我瘦瘦的，头发杂乱，没有化妆；而且我还感到自己早晨的口气很不好。
“骗人。”我大声地喊道，笑了。
我通常都是这样的反应。母亲的第一个丈夫不是个好人，他常常伤害、虐待母亲。最终，家庭暴力使母亲和她的两个孩子不得不离开，去寻找一个安全的地方。一天，这个男人拿着玫瑰花来到母亲家门前。进门后，却用玫瑰花殴打她，并占了她的便宜。9个月后，母亲生下一个重9英镑13盎司的女婴，那就是我。
从小到大，听到的那些刻薄言语在我心中扎了根，因此我很难把自己看成是一个有用的人。结婚两年后，我感到很意外，丈夫拥抱着我，说我很漂亮。
我说：“谢谢你。”
镜中的我同样是那个瘦瘦的、有着黑褐色头发的女孩，但不管怎样，最终那句温暖的话语在我心中开了花。
多年过去了，丈夫的头发已变得灰白，我也不再那么瘦弱。上星期的一个早晨，醒来时我发现丈夫的脸离我很近，不过几英寸。
我问道：“你在干什么？”
我把嘴捂住，不想对着他呼吸，因为早晨口气很重。他低下头吻了我的脸。
“做我每天都做的事。”他回答说。
每天早晨我还在睡觉的时候，丈夫就要离开家，所以我们早晨没有时间交谈。我从不知道他每天早晨都告诉我他爱我，即使当时我在睡觉也会如此。他走后，我打了个滚儿，抱着枕头，想象着自己张着嘴轻轻打鼾的样子，忍不住笑了。
这样一个男人！他了解我的过去，并一直陪在我身边，看着我从一个自卑的女孩成长为一个自信的女人、一位母亲，同时也是一位成功的演说家和作家。
我不知道他是否清楚在我一系列的蜕变中，他所起的作用。从小到大，那些刻薄的话曾深深刺痛我的灵魂，而他的话对我的触动更大。
我打算今年的结婚纪念日早点起床，告诉理查德我有多爱他。他可能会在照镜子时，发现自己又重了一磅或两磅，或是希望某天他的头发又可以变黑变卷；而我所看到的他，永远是那个能看出连我自己都无法看到自身优点的人，是那个甚至在结婚23年后每天依然给我蝶吻的人。
■心灵小语心灵小语
相爱的两个人要懂得珍惜，不仅是珍惜两人之间的爱情，更要珍惜彼此拥有的生活。爱一个人，就是要接受她的全部。即便她并不美丽，并不优秀，但是她成为了你生命中的另一半，你就要悉心地发现她的美，发现她的独特之处。只有彼此发现优点，相互珍惜，生活才会幸福，爱情才会更美好。
Butterfly Kisses
Anonymous
My newlywed husband said the same thing every morning， “You’re beautiful today.”
One glance in the mirror revealed1 that it was far from the truth.
A skinny girl with mashed hair on one side of her head and no makeup smiled back at me. I could feel my sticky2 morning breath.
“Liar,” I shot back with a grin.
It was my usual response. My mother’s first husband was not a kind man and his verbal3 and physical abuse forced her and her two children to find a safe place. He showed up on her doorstep one day with roses. She let him in and he beat her with those roses and took advantage of her. Nine months later she gave birth to a 9 lb. 13 oz. baby girl—me.
The harsh4 words we heard growing up took root. I had trouble seeing myself as someone of value. I had been married two years when I surprised myself. My husband wrapped his arms around me and told me I was beautiful.
“Thank you,” I said.
The same thin girl with the mousy5 brown hair still stared back at me in the mirror, but somehow the words had finally blossomed in my heart.
A lot of years have passed. My husband has grey in his hair. I’m no longer skinny. Last week I woke up and my husband’s face was inches from mine.
“What are you doing？” I asked.
I covered my mouth, trying to hide my morning breath. He reached down and kissed my face.
“What I do every morning,” he said.
He leaves in the early hours of the morning while I sleep. I miss our morning conversations, but I had not realized that he continued to tell me that he loved me even while I slept. When he left, I rolled over and hugged my pillow. I envisioned6 the picture of me lightly snoring with my mouth open and giggled.
What a man！ My husband understands my past. He’s been beside me as I’ve grown from an unsure young girl to a confident woman, mother, speaker and author.
But I’m not sure that he understands the part he played in that transition. The words I heard growing up pierced my soul, yet his words pierced7 even deeper.
This Anniversary Day I plan to wake early. I wants to tell Richard how much I love him. He may look in the mirror and see an extra pound or two, or wish for the day when his hair was dark and curly, but all I’ll see is the man who saw something in me when I couldn’t see it myself, and who leaves butterfly kisses, even after twentythree years of marriage.
爱如丝线
佚名
有时我怀疑,父母之间是否存在着真爱。他们每天都疲于奔命，为我和弟弟赚学费。我从没见他们像我在书中或电视中看到的那样浪漫。在他们看来，将“我爱你”这句话说出口都太奢侈，更别说在情人节互赠鲜花了。父亲脾气很糟，特别是经过了一天工作的劳累之后，糟糕的脾气更容易发作。
有一天，妈妈正在缝被子，我安静地坐在旁边看着她。
“妈妈，我有个问题想问你。”过了一会儿我说。
“什么问题啊？”她答道，而手里的活儿却没停下。
“你和爸爸之间有爱情吗？”我压低声音问道。
母亲停下手里的活儿，抬起头诧异地看着我，并未马上回答，然后又低下头，继续缝被子。
我担心这个问题会伤她的心。我很尴尬，不知所措。但接下来却听见母亲这样说：
“苏珊，”她若有所思地说，“你看这线。有时我们看得见它，但更多时侯它却藏在被子中，我们看不见。这些线确实使被子结实耐用。如果将生活比做被子，那么爱就是丝线。你不可能时刻都看得到它，但是它却真实地存在着。爱是内在的东西。”
我仔细听着，但是直到第二年春天才真正明白她所说的话。当时，父亲病重，母亲在医院里照顾他，一个月后，父亲出院回到家时，两个人看起来都面色苍白，就像他们得过同样的重病似的。
他们回家后，每到黎明和黄昏，母亲总会搀扶着父亲在乡间小路上散步。父亲从没有那样温和过。他们看起来是那样和谐。路旁有许多漂亮的鲜花、绿草和树木，阳光透过叶子的缝隙温柔地照射在上面，所有这一切勾勒出世间最美的画面。
医生说，两个月后父亲就能病愈。可两个月后他还是不能独立行走，我们都很担心。
“你感觉如何，爸爸？”有一天我问他。
“苏珊，不要担心我。”父亲慢慢地说，“不瞒你说，我就是喜欢和你妈妈一起散步的感觉。我喜欢这样的生活。”从他的眼神中，我读出了他对母亲那深深的爱恋。
曾经以为爱情是与鲜花、礼物和香甜的热吻这些美好的事物分不开的。经历了这些后，使我明白了：爱情就如同我们生活中被子里的丝线一样，是内在的、坚固的和温暖生活的东西。
Love Is Just ａ Thread
Anonymous
Sometimes I really doubt whether there is love between my parents. Every day they are very busy trying to earn money in order to pay the high tuition for my brother and me. They don’t act in the romantic ways that I read in books or I see on TV. In their opinion, “I love you”is too luxurious1 for them to say. Sending flowers to each other on Valentine’s Day is even more out of the question. Finally my father has a bad temper. When he’s very tired from the hard work, it is easy for him to lose his temper.
One day, my mother was sewing a quilt. I silently sat down beside her and looked at her.
“Mom, I have a question to ask you，” I said after a while.
“What？”she replied, still doing her work.
“Is there love between you and Dad？” I asked her in a very low voice.
My mother stopped her work and raised her head with surprise in her eyes. She didn’t answer immediately. Then she bowed her head and continued to sew the quilt.
I was very worried because I thought I had hurt her. I was in a great embarrassment2 and I didn’t know what I should do. But at last I heard my mother say the following words:
“Susan,” she said thoughtfully, “look at this thread. Sometimes it appears, but most of it disappears in the quilt. The thread really makes the quilt strong and durable3. If life is a quilt, then love should be a thread. It can hardly be seen anywhere or anytime, but it’s really there. Love is inside.”
I listened carefully but I couldn’t understand her until the next spring. At that time, my father suddenly got sick seriously. My mother had to stay with him in the hospital for a month. When they returned from the hospital, they both looked very pale. It seemed both of them had had a serious illness.
After they were back, every day in the morning and dusk, my mother helped my father walk slowly on the country road. My father had never been so gentle. It seemed they were the most harmonious4 couple. Along the country road, there were many beautiful flowers, green grass and trees. The sun gently glistened5 through the leaves. All of these made up the most beautiful picture in the world.
The doctor had said my father would recover in two months. But after two months he still couldn’t walk by himself. All of us were worried about him.
“Dad, how are you feeling now？” I asked him one day.
“Susan, don’t worry about me.” he said gently,“To tell you the truth, I just like walking with your mom. I like this kind of life.” Reading his eyes, I know he loves my mother deeply.
Once I thought love meant flowers, gifts and sweet kisses. But from this experience, I understand that love is just a thread in the quilt of our life. Love is inside, making life strong and warm.
让爱重温的小港
卡伦.斯卡尔.莉娜蒙
加利福尼亚的12月里，我们从得克萨斯州乘飞机来到这里，与家人们一起过圣诞节。从我们到达的那天起，直到圣诞节前夜，我们的时间被名目繁多的岁末活动挤得满满的。
一天晚上，我们挤上车，去一位朋友家参加圣诞聚会。因为妈妈、姐姐和我在附近的商场疯狂购物一天，不停地填支票、签交费单，很晚才回家，所以我们出发的时候，已经比计划的时间晚了。
妈妈看着前排开车的爸爸说：“哎呀！忙碌了一天啊！我感觉有一个星期都没见你了！”
爸爸嘴里咕哝了几句，一边看着后视镜一边换车道，车速几乎接近光速了。
妈妈伸出手用手指缠绕着爸爸的一绺头发说：“我知道了！我们相互注视一下吧。就一会儿，看对方的眼睛。”
这次爸爸说话了，他咕哝道：“亲爱的，我在开车呢。”
“就10秒钟！5秒钟！我一整天都没看见你了，我要好好看看你的眼睛。准备好了吗？”
爸爸摇着头说：“我现在不能看你，否则我们会撞车的！”
“那等下一个红灯的时候吧。”
车子飞快地行驶着，没过多久我们就赶上了红灯。果然，父亲转过身，隔着前座与母亲手握着手，相互注视着对方的双眼。“嗨，”妈妈说。“嗨，”爸爸热情地回应道。
这时，绿灯亮了，油门踩到底，赛跑又开始了。好像什么都没有改变，可一切好像又都变了。最重要的是，刚才亲眼见证的一幕悄悄地打动了我：在这手忙脚乱、焦头烂额的日子里，居然有这样一站让爱重温的小港湾。
A Small Harbor of Reconnection
Karen Scalf Linamen
It was December in California, and we had flown in from Texas to visit our families for the holidays. The days between our arrival and Christmas Eve brimmed with a flurry of last minute activities.
One evening we all hustled into the car to drive to a Christmas party at the home of family friends. We were a little behind schedule because my mom, sister, and I had gotten home late after spending a long day writing checks, signing charge slips, and bringing hysterical grins of joy to the faces of local merchants at a nearby mall.
My mom looked across the front seat at my dad and said, “Whew！ What a busy day！I feel like I haven’t seen you in a week！”
My dad grunted, checked the rearview mirror, and changed lanes at something approximating the speed of light.
My mom reached over and twirled a lock of my dad’s hair around her finger. “I know！Let’s look at each other. For just a minute. In the eyes.”
My dad responded this time. He groaned. “Honey, I’m driving.”
“Ten seconds. Five！I haven’t seen you all day. I need to look into your eyes. Are you ready？”
He shook his head. “I can’t look right now. We’ll have a wreck！”
“At the next light.”
At the speed we were traveling, we hit the next red light in no time. And sure enough, holding hands across the front seat, my parents turned and gazed into each other’s eyes. “Hi,” my mom said. “Hi,” my dad said warmly back.
Then the light changed, the gas pedal hit the floor, and the race was on again. Nothing had changed, and yet everything had changed. Most of all, I was silently moved by what I had witnessed: a small harbor of reconnection in a raging hurricane of activity and distraction.
平淡的爱
佚名
丈夫是一位职业工程师。我迷恋于他沉稳的性格，以及靠在他宽厚肩膀上的温暖感觉。恋爱三年，结婚两年，如今我不得不承认我有些厌烦了。之前爱他的一些原因，现在变成了厌烦的理由。我是个感性的人，感情上极为敏感。我渴望浪漫的时刻，就像一个渴望糖果的小女孩。丈夫与我完全相反，他反应迟钝，缺乏浪漫细胞，无法为我们的生活增添浪漫，我因此对爱情失去了信心。最终有一天，我坚决地告诉他我的决定，我要离婚。
“怎么了？”他十分惊异地问。“我厌倦了，世界上的事没有那么多怎么了！”我回答说。一整晚，他都很沉默，一直在抽烟，仿佛陷入了沉思。
我的失望有增无减，他甚至连自己的困境都无法表达出来，我还能指望他什么？最后他问我：“我怎么做才能让你改变主意？”有人说得对，江山易改，本性难移。我想我已经开始对他失去信心了。
我凝视着他的眼睛，缓慢地回答：“这里有个问题，如果你的回答能让我满意的话，我就改变主意。打个比方，我很想要长在悬崖上的一朵花，而我们都知道摘那朵花会付出生命的代价，你会不会为我去摘？”他说：“我明天给你答案……”听到他的回答，我的希望彻底破灭了。
翌日早上，我醒来时，发现他已经走了，前门餐桌上的牛奶杯下有一张纸条，他用潦草的笔迹这样写道：
“亲爱的，我不会去为你摘那朵花的，但请允许我作一下解释。”这第一行字已经让我心碎。我继续读着，“你用电脑时，总会弄乱程序，然后对着显示器哭，我必须留着手指为你修复程序。
“你总会忘带钥匙，因此我得留着双腿，跑回家为你开门。你热爱旅行，但在陌生的城市总会迷路。我得留着眼睛为你指路。
“每月，当好朋友来临时，你总会痛经。我得留着手掌以抚慰你的腹痛。你喜欢待在屋里，我担心你会得忧郁症。我得留着嘴巴为你讲笑话故事，以驱散你的烦闷无聊。
“你总会盯着电脑，这对眼睛没有好处。我得留着眼睛，当我们都老了的时候，我可以帮你剪指甲，帮你拔掉那些恼人的白头发。这样，我还可以牵着你的手漫步在海边，享受阳光和美丽的沙滩……对你说那些花的色彩就像你洋溢着青春面颊上的红晕……
“因此，亲爱的，除非我相信有人爱你比我更深……否则我绝不会为摘那朵花而死……”我的眼泪滴落在信上，模糊了他的字迹……我继续读下去……
“现在，你知道了我的答案，如果你感到满意，就打开前门，我正拿着你最爱的面包和鲜牛奶站在外面……”
我冲过去，拉开门，看到他一脸焦虑地紧握着牛奶瓶和面包……如今，我确切地知道没有人比他更爱我，于是决定将花的事扔到一边……
这就是生活，这就是爱。当一个人被爱包围时，激动的感觉会逐渐淡化，而人们却忽视了在平淡与单调中所隐藏的真爱。
■心灵小语
简单爱，简单生活。真挚的爱情在平淡的生活里会日渐被人遗忘，可是，你有没有想到，这种简单的爱情是经得住时间考验的。你终会发现，原来简单的爱才是最真实的！
A Deep Love without Passion
Anonymous
My husband is an engineer by profession. I love him for his steady nature, and I love the warm feeling when I lean against his broad shoulders. Three years of courtship and now, two years into marriage, I would have to admit, that I am getting tired of it. The reasons of my loving him before, have now transformed into the cause of all my restlessness. I am a sentimental woman and extremely sensitive when it comes to a relationship and my feelings. I yearn for the romantic moments, like a little girl yearning for candy. My husband, is my complete opposite, his lack of sensitivity, and the inability of bringing romantic moments into our marriage has disheartened me about love. One day, I finally decided to tell him my decision, that I wanted a divorce.
“Why？” he asked, shocked. “I am tired, there are no reasons for everything in the world！ ” I answered. He kept silent the whole night, seemed to be in deep thought with a lighted cigarette at all times.
My feeling of disappointment only increased, here was a man who can’t even express his predicament, what else can I hope from him？ And finally he asked me, “What can I do to change your mind？” Somebody said it right, it’s hard to change a person’s personality, and I guess, I have started losing faith in him.
Looking deep into his eyes, I slowly answered, “Here is the question, if you can answer and convince my heart, I will change my mind. Let’s say, I want a flower located on the face of a mountain cliff, and we both are sure that picking the flower will cause your death, will you do it for me？” He said, “I will give you my answer tomorrow ...” My hopes just sank by listening to his response.
I woke up the next morning to find him gone, and saw a piece of paper with his scratchy handwriting, underneath a milk glass, on the dining table near the front door, that goes ...
“My dear, I would not pick that flower for you, but please allow me to explain the reasons further.” This first line has already broken my heart. I continued reading. “When you use the computer you always mess up the software programs, and you cry in front of the screen, I have to save my fingers so that I can help to restore the programs.
“You always leave the house keys behind, thus I have to save my legs to rush home to open the door for you. You love traveling but always lose your way in a new city, I have to save my eyes to show you the way.
“You always have the cramps whenever your‘good friend’ approaches every month, I have to save my palms so that I can calm the cramps in your tummy. You like to stay indoors, and I worry that you will be infected by infantile autism. I have to save my mouth to tell you jokes and stories to cure your boredom.
“You always stare at the computer, and that will do nothing good for your eyes, I have to save my eyes so that when we grow old, I can help to clip your nails, and help to remove those annoying white hairs. So I can also hold your hand while strolling down the beach, as you enjoy the sunshine and the beautiful sand ... and tell you the colour of flowers, just like the color of the glow on your young face ...
“Thus, my dear, unless I am sure that there is someone who loves you more than I do ... I could not pick that flower yet, and die ...” My tears fell on the letter, and blurred the ink of his handwriting ... and as I continued reading ...“Now, that you have finished reading my answer, if you are satisfied, please open the front door for I am standing outside bringing your favorite bread and fresh milk ...”
I rushed to pull open the door, and saw his anxious face, clutching tightly with his hands, the milk bottle and loaf of bread ... Now I am very sure that no one will ever love me as much as he does, and I have decided to leave the flower alone ...
That’s life, and love. When one is surrounded by love, the feeling of excitement fades away, and one tends to ignore the true love that lies in between the peace and dullness.
天底下最真挚的爱情
佚名
我一个朋友正处于热恋之中，她幸福地坦言，恋爱时，天空似乎更蓝了。莫扎特的音乐让她感动得流泪。恋爱使她的体重减轻了15磅，她看起来像个封面女郎。
“我又年轻了！”她兴奋地喊道。
在朋友对她的新欢赞不绝口时，我又重新审视我的旧爱。丈夫斯科特与我结婚快20年了，体重增加了15磅，曾是马拉松选手的他，如今却只能从楼上跑到楼下的医院大厅。他的发际线不断后移。从体形可以看出，他经常超负荷地工作，并且甜食吃得太多。但约会时，餐桌对面的他仍会向我使某种眼色，使我领会其中的含义，结账回家。
当朋友问我“是什么使你们的爱持续至今”时，我毫不犹豫地列举了一些显性因素：责任感、共同的兴趣爱好、无私、身体吸引力，再者就是沟通。当然，还有其他诸多因素：我们会时常寻找乐趣，创造一些欢乐时光。昨天，斯科特把捆报纸的橡皮筋拉下来，然后调皮地弹向我，“战争”由此一发而不可收拾；上周六在杂货店，我们把购物单一分为二，比赛谁先抢购完到达收银台，谁就是胜利者；即便是一起洗碗，我们也要打斗一番。只要在一起，我们就开开心心的。
我与斯科特常会给对方带来惊喜。一次，我回到家，发现门上贴着一张小纸条，上面的内容指引我找到了另一张纸条，接着又是一张，最后指引我走到小储藏室。我打开门，发现斯科特手里捧着“金罐子”（我的蒸煮锅），还拿着一个装着“财富”的大礼包。有时我也会把写给他的纸条贴在镜子上，偷偷地在他的枕头下藏一个小礼物。
我们都理解对方。我理解他为什么一定要和老朋友们出去打篮球，而他也理解我为什么每年都要离开他和孩子，去与姐妹们聚会，连续几天无休止地聊天说笑。
我们同甘共苦。不仅分担忧愁的家事和身为父母的责任，也分享各自的见解。上个月，斯科特参加了一个会议，给我带回一本很厚的历史小说。虽然他比较喜欢惊悚和科幻类小说，但他还是在飞机上把它读完了。他说是为了在我读完后，能和我交流见解。听了这番话，我感动不已。
我们彼此宽容。当我在派对上不顾一切，疯狂地喧闹时，斯科特原谅了我；而当他用我们的一点积蓄炒股炒赔了，向我坦白时，我抱紧他，安慰道：“没关系，钱乃身外之物。”
我们心有灵犀。上周，他回到家，一进门我便从他的神情中看出他心情不好。他逗孩子们玩了一会儿后，我便问他怎么了。他告诉我，一个60岁的老太太中风了。想到病人的丈夫会站在床边爱抚她的手时，他哭了。他实在不忍心告诉病人的丈夫，与他共度了40年的妻子可能永远不能康复！我的眼泪也流了下来，为那可恶的病魔，为这世间维系了40年的婚姻，也为丈夫这么多年来在医院目睹了无数垂死的病人后还能有如此的感动和怜悯！
我们都有坚定的信念。上周四，一个朋友到我家来，向我诉说了她的忧虑，她担心丈夫会逐渐丧失与癌症抗争的勇气和信心。周三，我和一个朋友吃午饭，她正努力使离婚后混乱的生活步入正轨。周四，一个邻居打电话告诉我，她公公得了可怕的老年痴呆症。周五，我一个儿时的玩伴打来长途电话告诉我，他父亲去世了。我放下电话，心里想着一周内竟连续发生这么多令人揪心的悲剧。泪水模糊了我的双眼。我走出家门想做点什么，发现窗外橙色的剑兰花竟然开了，儿子和他的伙伴们玩耍的欢声笑语传到耳边，邻居正在举办婚宴，新娘子穿着缎面有花边修饰的婚纱，把花束抛向欢呼雀跃的朋友。那一夜，我把这一切都讲给丈夫听，人生轮回，悲欢离合总会伴随我们。我们将这样相濡以沫地生活下去。
最后一个原因，我们互相了解。我知道斯科特每晚都会把换洗的衣服扔向洗衣篓，却总也扔不进去；我知道大多数约会他都会迟到，因而会被罚吃剩下的最后一块巧克力。他知道我睡觉时喜欢用枕头把头蒙起来；我时常忘带钥匙，进不了家门，因此我也会自觉地吃掉最后一块巧克力。
我猜想，或许是舒适的感觉让我们的爱延续至今。今天的天空和昨天的一样，并没有变得更蓝，它仍是我们熟悉的颜色；我们也不再有年轻的感觉；我们经历的太多了，而正是这些经历让我们成长，让我们更理性，让我们不断增值，构成了我们的回忆。
我希望我们已经得到了使爱情延续的秘诀。结婚时，斯科特在我的戒指上刻上了罗伯特•布朗宁的诗词：“陪我到老吧！”我们始终恪守着这一誓言。
The Best Kind of Love
Anonymous
I have a friend who is falling in love. She honestly claims the sky is bluer. Mozart moves her to tears. She has lost 15 pounds and looks like a cover girl.
“I’m young again！” she shouts exuberantly1.
As my friend raves on about her new love, I’ve taken a good look at my old one. My husband of almost 20 years, Scott, has gained 15 pounds. Once a marathon runner, he now runs only down hospital halls. His hairline is receding and his body shows the signs of long working hours and too many candy bars. Yet he can still give me a certain look across a restaurant table and I want to ask for the check and head home.
When my friend asked me， “What will make this love last？” I ran through all the obvious reasons: commitment, shared interests, unselfishness, physical attraction, communication. Yet there’s more. We still have fun. Spontaneous2 good times. Yesterday, after slipping the rubber band off the rolled up newspaper, Scott flipped it playfully at me: this led to an allout war. Last Saturday at the grocery, we split the list and raced each other to see who could make it to the checkout first. Even washing dishes can be a blast. We enjoy simply being together.
And there are surprises. One time I came home to find a note on the front door that led me to another note, then another, until I reached the walkin closet. I opened the door to find Scott holding a “pot of gold” (my cooking kettle) and the “treasure” of a gift package. Sometimes I leave him notes on the mirror and little presents under his pillow.
There is understanding. I understand why he must play basketball with the guys. And he understands why, once a year, I must get away from the house, the kids—and even him—to meet my sisters for a few days of nonstop talking and laughing.
There is sharing. Not only do we share household worries and parental burdens—we also share ideas. Scott came home from a convention last month and presented me with a thick historical novel. Though he prefers thrillers and science fiction3, he had read the novel on the plane. He touched my heart when he explained it was because he wanted to be able to exchange ideas about the book after I’d read it.
There is forgiveness. When I’m embarrassingly loud and crazy at parties, Scott forgives me. When he confessed losing some of our savings in the stock market, I gave him a hug and said, “It’s okay. It’s only money.”
There is sensitivity. Last week he walked through the door with that look that tells me it’s been a tough day. After he spent some time with the kids, I asked him what happened. He told me about a 60yearold woman who’d had a stroke. He wept as he recalled the woman’s husband standing beside her bed, caressing her hand. How was he going to tell this husband of 40 years that his wife would probably never recover？ I shed a few tears myself. Because of the medical crisis. Because there were still people who have been married 40 years. Because my husband is still moved and concerned after years of hospital rooms and dying patients.
There is faith. Last Tuesday a friend came over and confessed her fear that her husband is losing his courageous battle with cancer. On Wednesday I went to lunch with a friend who is struggling to reshape her life after divorce. On Thursday a neighbor called to talk about the frightening effects of Alzheimer’s disease on her fatherinlaw’s personality. On Friday a childhood friend called longdistance to tell me her father had died. I hung up the phone and thought： this is too much heartache for one week. Through my tears, as I went out to run some errands, I noticed the boisterous4 orange blossoms of the gladiolus5 outside my window. I heard the delighted laughter of my son and his friend as they played. I caught sight of a wedding party emerging from a neighbor’s house. The bride, dressed in satin and lace, tossed her bouquet to her cheering friends. That night, I told my husband about these events. We helped each other acknowledge the cycles of life and that the joys counter the sorrows. It was enough to keep us going.
Finally, there is knowing. I know Scott will throw his laundry just shy of the hamper6 every night; he’ll be late to most appointments and eat the last chocolate in the box. He knows that I sleep with a pillow over my head; I’ll lock us out of the house at a regular basis, and I will also eat the last chocolate.
I guess our love lasts because it is comfortable. No, the sky is not bluer: it’s just a familiar hue. We don’t feel particularly young: we’ve experienced too much that has contributed to our growth and wisdom, taking its toll on our bodies, and created our memories.
I hope we’ve got what it takes to make our love last. As a bride, I had Scott’s wedding band engraved with Robert Browning’s line “Grow old along with me！” We’re following those instructions.
干不完的家务活
佚名
11月，一个雨天的早上，我已经对周围的一切感到极度厌烦，如果不马上离开家的话，我会对丈夫艾.克发火的。
“我送你去上班吧。”艾.克说。我猛地穿上夹克，抓起包和教案说：“我已经在这条路上开了很多年了，现在也可以。”
“我说过要送你去上班。”他说着，伸手去够他的靴子。
我看着桌上成堆的报纸和脏盘子，说道：“你闲着没事吗？我能照顾我自己。”说完就仰起头走了，连一个吻和再见都没有。
“唐娜，不要抄近道啊！”他在我身后喊道。
春天时，心脏病迫使丈夫离开了工作岗位。在一所中学教高中的我从教已有22年了，而艾.克则待在家里做家务。
新的生活安排简直是场天灾。每天没完没了地开会和上课使我筋疲力尽，我只想回家吃顿热乎乎的家常饭、睡个舒适觉。
然而，桌上摆的总是用微波炉热好的速食品。
一天晚上，我惊奇地发现艾.克把洁白的床单染成了粗布般的蓝色。
“我发现怎样省水、肥皂和电了。”艾.克成功地宣布，“就是把所有的东西放在一起洗。”
在接下来的几个月里，不知道为什么，他做的饭越来越难吃了。我很想说，至少我做的饭还能营养均衡呢！但我想起有一次做甜菜，他称赞我做的好，后来才发现，他最讨厌吃甜菜了，于是就没有说他什么。
之后，有些事更糟糕。这个雨天的早上，我发现一件染成蓝色的裙子被塞在抽屉里时，我咬着牙，我受不了啦！
上帝啊，在照顾人的基本常识方面，你就不能帮帮他吗？我气冲冲地出了门。
我没有理睬艾.克的劝告，十分钟后，在这个坏天气里，我抄了近道。
不料，拐弯时，污水一下子涌进了我要穿过的小道。我想水应该不会很深。但没走多远，车子就抛锚了。大概20分钟过去了，车子开始摇晃，污水也开始湍急起来。上帝，救救我啊！
突然，三声长长的鸣笛声打断了我的祈祷。我扭头一看，是艾.克！
“唐娜！我扔给你一条绳子，”他喊着，“抓住它，向我这边走。”
我打开车门，抓住绳子。在激流的水中，我滑倒了。“我过不去！”我喊道，并使劲拽着绳子。
“能，你能的。”他的声音很平静。
如果那不是艾.克，而是其他任何一个人，我想我是不会成功的。但我信任我的丈夫。我完全按他的指挥做，最终扑到他的怀里。“谢谢，”我说，然后靠在他的胸膛哭了，“我很抱歉，刚才跟你发脾气，那是……”
“嘘……”艾.克低声说，“现在好了，你没事就好。”
上帝提醒了我，艾.克完全懂得怎样照顾人。
■心灵小语
现代人，总是不满于繁杂的家庭琐事，不甘于平淡的生活，挣扎着想要逃。可是尝试了“刺激”的生活，才发现，平平淡淡才是真。身边最熟悉的普通人才是自己最该珍惜的。无疑，文中的主人公是幸运的，因为当她埋怨放弃后，还可以选择回去。只是在这个世界上，并不是每个人都有重新选择的机会。朋友，珍惜现在，感恩现在吧！
Homemaking
Anonymous
One rainy November morning I had about all I could take. I knew if I didn’t leave the house soon I would unleash1 a storm of anger on my husband, A.K..
“I’m taking you to work.” A.K. said. l struggled into my jacket, and then grabbed my satchel2 and lesson plans. “I’ve been driving that route for many years. I can drive it now.”
“I said I’m taking you to work.” He reached for his boots.
I looked at the stacks of newspaper, the dirty dishes still on the table. “Don’t you have enough to do？ I can take care of myself.” l shouted out, not even kissing him goodbye.
“Don’t take the shortcut, Donna！” He shouted after me.
A heart attack that past spring forced my husband to leave his job. l was in the middle of my twentysecond year teaching high school seniors, while A.K. stayed home and took over the household chores.
The new arrangement was a disaster. Exhausted after a day of dealing with faculty meetings and students, all I wanted was a hot home cooked meal and a good night’s sleep.
A microwave package greeted me at the table.
One night, I was horrified to discover A.K. had turned our white sheets a suspiciously denimlike shade of blue.
“l found out how to save on water, soap and electricity.” A.K. announced triumphantly.“Just wash everything together.”
During the months that followed, his cooking somehow managed to get worse. At least I cooked us balanced meals, I wanted to say. But then I would remember the time A.K. had eaten every beet and complimented3 the dinner, though I discovered later how he detested the sight of beets. So I wouldn’t say anything to him.
As far as I was concerned, things couldn’t get much worse. So that rainy morning when I found a nowblue halfslip stuffed in a dresser drawer, I could only grit my teeth, l had it！
Lord, can’t you help him with just the basics of taking care of us？ I stormed out of the house.
Ten minutes later, ignoring A.K.’s warning about taking the shortcut in bad weather, I turned off the main route.
But as I rounded the corner a swirling mess gushed across my path. It can’t be that deep, I thought. But after a few feet, the car stalled. Almost 20 minutes passed, the car swayed. The chocolaty water surged. Please, God, I prayed, take care of me.
Three long blasts of horn interrupted my praying. Looking over my shoulder, A.K. ！
“Donna！I’m throwing a rope,” he yelled. “Hang on to it and walk straight toward me.”
I opened the door, grabbed the rope. I slipped in the rushing water, “ I can’t！”I screamed, straining at the rope.
“Yes, you can.” His voice was calm.
If it had been anybody but A.K. , I don’t think I could have done it. But I trusted my husband. I didn’t exactly as he instructed, and finally fell into his arms. “Thank you,” I said, sobbing against his chest. “I’m sorry I got so angry with you. It’s just that ...”
“Sssss ...” A.K. murmured. “It’s okay now. I’ve got you.”
God had reminded me that A.K. understood a thing or tow about taking care of us after all.
第三卷爱的小纸条
LoveNotes
“宝贝，我们不知道他们为什么不工作，”她说，“但他们也曾是孩子，他们的妈妈爱他们，就像我爱你一样。”她把双手放在我肩头，把我拉到她的围裙边，围裙散发出浆洗过的和新烤的面包的味道。
哥哥的心愿
佚名
我有个朋友叫保罗，他的哥哥送给他一辆车作为圣诞礼物。圣诞节前夜，保罗下班走出办公室，看见一个淘气的小男孩绕着他那辆崭新的车欣赏着，不时发出赞叹声。
“这是您的车吗，先生？”他问道。
保罗点了点头，说：“这是我哥哥送给我的圣诞礼物。”男孩很吃惊，激动得有些语无伦次：“您是说这是您哥哥送的，您没花一分钱？噢，我希望……”
保罗当然知道男孩希望什么，无非希望也有这样一位哥哥。但是，小男孩接下来的话却完全出乎他的意料。
“我希望，”男孩继续说道,“我也成为那样的哥哥，可以送车给弟弟。”
保罗吃惊地看着男孩，随口问道：“你想坐我的车去兜兜风吗？”
“哦，当然想了，我太高兴了。”
车开了一会儿后，那孩子转过头来，用殷切的眼神望着保罗说：“先生，您能把车子开到我家门口吗？”
保罗微笑着，他以为自己知道小男孩想干什么，一定是想向邻居炫耀一番，让大家看到他坐着一辆气派的轿车回家。但这次他又想错了。“您把车子停在那两个台阶前，好吗？”男孩问。
男孩跑上台阶，不一会儿，保罗听到他回来的声音，但动作似乎较先前慢了好多。原来他领着自己跛脚的弟弟来了，他把弟弟安置在第一个台阶上，然后靠紧他坐下，用手指着那辆新车。
“就是它，弟弟，这就是我刚刚在楼上和你说的那辆新车，是保罗的哥哥送给他的圣诞礼物，他没花一分钱哦。总有一天，我会送你这样一辆车，那样，到了圣诞节，你就可以自己去看商店橱窗里那些漂亮的饰品了，就像我以前告诉你的一样。”
保罗下了车，把跛脚男孩抱到前座。哥哥很兴奋，眼中闪着奇异的光芒，他也爬上车子，坐到弟弟身边。就这样，三人开始了令人难忘的假日之旅。那个圣诞夜，保罗才真正领悟耶稣讲过的道理“施予与比索取更幸福……”
The Wish of Brother
Anonymous
A friend of mine named Paul received an automobile from his brother as a Christmas present. On Christmas Eve when Paul came out of his office, a street urchin was walking around the shiny new car, admiring it.
“Is this your car, Mister？” he said.
Paul nodded,“My brother gave it to me for Christmas.” The boy was astounded,“You mean your brother gave it to you and it didn’t cost you anything？ Boy, I wish …” He hesitated.
Of course Paul knew what he was going to wish for. He was going to wish he had a brother like that. But what the lad said jarred Paul all the way down to his heels.
“I wish,” the boy went on, “that I could be a brother like that.”
Paul looked at the boy in astonishment, then impulsively he added, “Would you like to take a ride in my car？”
“Oh yes, I’d love that.”
After a short ride, the boy turned with his eyes aglow, said, “Mister, would you mind driving in front of my house？”
Paul smiled a little. He thought he knew what the lad wanted. He wanted to show his neighbors that he could ride home in a big automobile. But Paul was wrong again. “Will you stop where those two steps are？” the boy asked.
He ran up the steps. Then in a little while Paul heard him coming back, but he was not coming fast. He was carrying his little crippled brother. He sat him down on the bottom step, then sort of squeezed up against him and pointed to the car.
“There she is, Buddy, just like I told you upstairs. His brother gave it to him for Christmas and it didn’t cost him a cent. And some day I’m gonna give you one just like it…then you can see for yourself all the pretty things in the Christmas windows that I’ve been trying to tell you about.”
Paul got out and lifted the lad to the front seat of his car. The shiningeyed older brother climbed in beside him and the three of them began a memorable holiday ride. That Christmas Eve, Paul learned what Jesus meant when he said, “It is more blessed to give …”
神秘仰慕者
佚名
琳达感到沮丧极了。情人节快到了，而她却是孤单单的一个人。两个星期以前，男朋友甩了她。三年以来，他们的感情一直很好，突然之间，他提出要终止他们之间的关系。到目前为止，琳达还没有恢复过来。她身边的每个朋友都在热切期待情人节的到来，她们也都有正在认真交往的男友。就连妹妹安娜也有了情人节的安排。
安娜为琳达感到伤心，于是她邀请琳达在情人节那天共进晚餐，然后再看场电影。“不，我不去，”琳达告诉她，“我才不想当电灯泡呢。”
琳达打开电视机，转到的每个台播的都是有关情人节的节目，这使她更加郁闷。琳达打算出去走一走，她拿起皮包和钥匙，想去街边的小店买本杂志看看。琳达刚走到她所住的公寓前门的时候，一个手捧鲜花的送货员正好走上台阶来到门口。
琳达打开门，把他让进来。“谢谢，”他说，“请问401号公寓在哪栋楼？”琳达目不转睛地看着那个送货员，说道：“我住的公寓就是401号。”“那么，这些花肯定是送给您的。”送货员说。“嗯……我……不会是我的。”琳达结结巴巴地说，“肯定是什么地方搞错了。”这个人看了看塑料袋里的卡片，问道：“你是不是琳达呀？”“是的，我就是琳达。”琳达满脸通红地说。送货员将花交给她，说道：“情人节快乐。”
琳达捧着花回到了公寓，她把塑料包装袋取了下来，只见上面写着：“琳达，情人节快乐。爱你的神秘仰慕者。”琳达很吃惊。是谁送这些花给她的呢？她辨认不出这是谁的笔迹。她给花店打电话。但是接电话的人把发生的事情全忘了。“今天，买花的人太多了，您应该也了解。”他说。“那是自然，”琳达说，“那么，这些花是用什么来支付的？假如是刷卡的话，没准你能够告诉我那个人的名字。”“这些花是用现金支付的，”接电话的人告诉她，“不好意思。”琳达看着这些花，觉得它们简直太漂亮了。
在与前任男友交往的整整三年之中，他从没有给她送过花，又怎么会在分手之后送花给她呢？难道是她不认识的某一个男生？或者是一个对她痴迷却因害羞不敢告诉她的人？假如是一个让人恐惧的家伙，又该怎么办？或者是她不喜欢的某个人？
正在这个时候，电话铃响了，是安娜。“情人节快乐！”她对琳达说，“今天过得怎么样？”“我不知道，”琳达说，“我收到一束花，署名却是神秘仰慕者。我不知道是谁送的，花店的人也不记得。我不知道我是应该高兴还是该忧虑。”安娜沉默了片刻。“是我，”她说，“我就是所谓的神秘仰慕者。”“你说的是真的吗？”琳达说。“你不会生气吧？”安娜问她。“一点儿都不会！”琳达说。安娜这才放下心来。“你是我的姐姐，琳达。你是我唯一的姐姐。我爱你，我想让你有个快乐的情人节。”“安娜，谢谢你。”琳达说，“这是我收到过的最好的情人节礼物。”
■心灵小语
幸福是什么？一千个人会有一千个答案。其实，幸福很简单，它只是人心里的一种感知。有的时候，玫瑰代表的不仅仅是爱情，更多的是关心、爱护和体贴。谁都会有不开心的一天，谁都会有闷闷不乐的日子，拿出我们的关爱来，总会收获一份感动。
Secret Admirer
Anonymous
Linda was depressed. It was Valentine’s Day and she was all alone. Her boyfriend had dumped1 her two weeks ago. After going steady for three years he had suddenly called it quits2. Linda hadn’t recovered yet. All of her friends were excited about Valentine’s Day. They all still had serious boyfriends. Even Linda’s sister Anna had plans.
She’d felt sorry for Linda and had invited her to come out on Valentine’s Day for supper and a movie. “No,” Linda told her. “I don’t want to be a spare wheel.”
Linda turned on the TV. As she flipped channels she could see that all of the shows were about Valentine’s Day. This made her feel even more morose3. Linda decided to go for a walk. She gathered up her wallet and keys. Maybe she would go to the corner store and get a magazine to read. Linda walked downstairs to the front door of her apartment building. A delivery person with flowers was just walking up the steps to the door.
Linda opened the door to let him in. “Thanks,” he said. “What floor is apartment 401 on？” Linda stared at the delivery man. “401 is my apartment.” she said. “Then these must be for you.” said the delivery man. “Oh—I—they can’t be for me,” Linda stuttered. “There must be some kind of mistake.” The man read the card through the plastic bag.“Are you Linda？” he asked. “Yes, I am.” Linda said as she blushed. The man handed the flowers to her. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” he said.
Linda took the flowers up to her apartment. She took off the plastic wrap and read the card. “Linda,” it read. “Happy Valentine’s Day. Love from your secret admirer.”
Linda was shocked. Who could have sent these flowers？She didn’t recognize the writing. She phoned the florist4’s shop. The man who answered the phone didn’t remember anything.“We’ve had so many orders today. You must understand,” he said. “Of course,” said Linda.“How were they paid for？ If they were paid for by a credit card, perhaps you could tell me the name.”“They were paid for by cash.” the man told her. “Sorry.” Linda stared at5 the flowers. They were beautiful.
In the entire three years that Linda had been with her boyfriend he had never bought her flowers. Why would he now he’d dumped her？ Was it a man she didn’t know？ Was it someone who was interested in her but was too shy to tell her？ What if it was a creepy guy？ Someone she didn’t like？ The phone rang. It was her sister Anna. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” she said to Linda. “How are you doing？” “I don’t know,” Linda replied. “I got flowers. They’re from a secret admirer. I have no clue who they’re from. The florist doesn’t remember. I don’t know if I should be happy or worried.” Anna was quiet for a minute.“It was me,” she said. “I’m your secret admirer.” “Really？” Linda said. “Are you mad？” Anna asked. “Not at all！” said Linda. Anna was relieved.“You’re my big sister Linda. You’re the only sister I have and I love you. And I wanted you to have a good Valentine’s Day.”“Anna, thank you.” Linda said. “This is the best Valentine’s Day present I’ve ever received.”
一盒子的吻
佚名
这个故事发生在很早以前。3岁的女儿浪费了一卷金色的包装纸，父亲惩罚了她。当时家里生活很拮据，所以看到女儿用金色包装纸装饰盒子，并把它挂到圣诞树上时，父亲非常生气。第二天早上，小姑娘把圣诞礼物送给父亲，说道：“爸爸，这是送给您的。”
父亲为自己先前的大动肝火而懊悔不已，但当他打开盒子发现里面什么也没有时，又生气了。他对小姑娘大声嚷道：“难道你不知道送别人礼物时里面应该放东西吗？”小姑娘抬头望着父亲，眼中噙满了泪水，她哭着说：“爸爸，这个盒子不是空的。我把许多吻放在里面，这些吻都是送给您的，爸爸。”
父亲顿时羞愧不已，他张开双臂拥抱女儿，恳求女儿原谅他。
不久，小女孩死于一场事故。此后许多年，她的父亲一直把这个金色的盒子放在床头，每当他感到绝望时，就拿出那个装满了吻的盒子，想想女儿曾经送给他的爱。
其实，我们每个人都有一个金色的盒子，里面装满了无私的爱和吻，这些吻来自我们的孩子、家人、朋友和上帝。人人都有这样的盒子，但不一定人人都懂得如何珍惜它。
■心灵小语
小孩子是纯真而善良的，他们的心中有着许多美好的愿望。就如文中的小女孩，送给爸爸一个装满了吻的盒子，小女孩认为，这是世界上最珍贵的礼物。
A Box Full of Kisses
Anonymous
The story goes that some time ago, a man punished his 3yearold daughter for wasting a roll of gold wrapping paper. Money was tight and he became infuriate1 when the child tried to decorate a box to put under the Christmas tree. Nevertheless, the little girl brought the gift to her father the next morning and said, “This is for you, Daddy.”
The man was embarrassed by his earlier overreaction, but his anger flared2 again when he found out the box was empty. He yelled at her, stating, “Don’t you know, when you give someone a present, there is supposed to be something inside？” The little girl looked up at him with tears in her eyes and cried, “Oh, Daddy, it’s not empty at all. I blew kisses into the box. They’re all for you, Daddy.”
The father was crushed. He put his arms around his little girl, and he begged for her forgiveness.
Only a short time later, an accident took away the life of the child. It is also told that her father kept that gold box by his bed for many years and, whenever he was discouraged, he would take out an imaginary kiss and remember the love of the child who had put it there.
In a very real sense, each one of us, as human beings, have been given a gold container filled with unconditional3 love and kisses...from our children, family members, friends, and God. There is simply no possession, anyone could hold, more precious than this.
向爸爸买一小时
佚名
男人带着一身的疲倦,恼火地回到家，这时天色已晚，他发现5岁的儿子在门口等着他。
“爸爸，可以问你个问题吗？”
“当然可以，想问什么？”男人答道。
“您一个小时能赚多少钱？”
“那和你没关系。为什么问这个？”男人生气了。“我想知道。请您告诉我，您一个小时赚多少钱？”小男孩哀求道。
“如果非要知道的话，告诉你，我一小时赚20美元。”
“哦，”小男孩的头低下了，然后又抬起来，说道：“爸爸，我可以向您借10美元吗？”
男人暴怒：“如果你问这个问题，只是为了借钱买个愚蠢的玩具或一些废品，那你趁早滚到房间睡觉去。好好想想你这种自私的行为！我每天辛辛苦苦地工作，难道就是为了你这种小孩子的行为？”
小男孩默默地回到房里，关上门。这时男人坐下来，更加恼怒。为什么他仅仅为了借钱却要问这个问题？大约一个小时后，男人平静下来，开始想：或许他真的需要10美元买东西呢？他可是从来不要钱的。
男人走到小男孩房门前，打开了门。
“睡了吗，儿子？”男人问道。
“没有呢，爸爸。”男孩答道。
“我一直在想，可能我刚才对你太过分了，”男人说，“我把一天的火儿都撒在你身上了。这是你要的10美元。”
小男孩顿时坐了起来，兴奋地叫道：“谢谢，老爸！”然后，他把手伸到枕头底下，摸出一叠皱巴巴的钞票。男人看到男孩手里攥着一把钱，又生气了。小男孩慢慢地数着钱，然后抬头望着父亲。
“你自己有钱，为什么还向我要钱？”父亲抱怨道。
“因为我的钱不够，但现在够了。”小男孩答道。“爸爸，我现在有20美元。我能买您一个小时的时间吗？明天请早点回家，我想和您一起吃晚饭。”
To Buy an Hour from Father
Anonymous
A man came home from work late, tired and irritated, to find his 5yearold son waiting for him at the door.
“Daddy, may I ask you a question？”
“Yeah, sure, what is it？” replied the man.
“Daddy, how much do you make an hour？”
“That’s none of your business. Why do you ask such a thing？” the man said angrily. “I just want to know. Please tell me, how much do you make an hour？” pleaded the little boy.
“If you must know, I make $20 an hour.”
“Oh,” the little boy replied, with his head down. Looking up, he said, “Daddy, may I please borrow $10？”
The father was furious, “If the only reason you asked that is so you can borrow some money to buy a silly toy or some other nonsense, then you march yourself straight to your room and go to bed. Think about why you are being so selfish. I work hard everyday for such this childish behavior.”
The little boy quietly went to his room and shut the door. The man sat down and started to get even angrier about the little boy’s questions. How dare he ask such questions only to get some money？ After about an hour or so, the man had calmed down, and started to think, maybe there was something he really needed to buy with that $10 and he really didn’t ask for money very often.
The man went to the door of the little boy’s room and opened the door.
“Are you sleep, son？”he asked.
“No, daddy, I’m awake,” replied the boy.
“I’ve been thinking, maybe I was too hard on you earlier,” said the man, “it’s been a long day and I took out my aggravation on you. Here the $10 you asked for.”
The little boy sat straight up, smiling. “Oh, thank you daddy！” he yelled. Then, reaching under his pillow he pulled out some crumpled up bills. The man, seeing that the boy already had money, started to get angry again. The little boy slowly counted out his money, then looked up at his father.
“Why do you want more money if you already have some？” the father grumbled.
“Because I didn’t have enough, but now I do,” the little boy replied. “Daddy, I have $20 now. Can I buy an hour of your time？ Please come home early tomorrow. I would like to have dinner with you.”
女儿的午餐袋
罗伯特.傅刚
在一个盒子上，标有鲜明的几个字“好东西”。盒子里装着经过我多次清理和丢弃而残留下的个人珍藏。小偷看到盒子，都不会偷里面的东西。但是如果房子遭遇火灾，我逃生时一定会带着它。
盒子里有许多东西，其中一个纪念品是一个小纸袋，有午餐袋那么大。虽然顶部被胶带、订书钉和许多曲别针密封住了，但还是留有一个可以看到里面的、很粗糙的缝隙。
这个特别的午餐袋我已经珍藏了大约14年。但它真正是属于我女儿莫利的。她刚到入学年龄时，就热衷于为她自己、她的几个哥哥和我准备午餐了。每一个袋子里装有三明治、苹果以及买牛奶的钱，时不时还会有一张纸条或是一些慰劳我们的美食。一天早上，莫利递给我两个袋子。一个是经常用的大袋，另一个是用宽胶带、订书钉和曲别针密封的袋子。
“为什么会有两个袋子呢？”
“另一个装的是别的东西。”
“是什么？”
“就是一些东西，您带上它。”我把两个袋子一起塞进我的公文包里，吻了一下孩子就匆匆离开了。
中午，当我匆忙地吃完饭后，就撕开莫利的另一个袋子，倒出里面的东西。两条发带、三块小石头、一个塑料恐龙、一支短铅笔、一个小海贝壳、两块动物饼干、一颗玩具子弹、一支用过的口红、一个小玩偶、两块巧克力糖和13便士。
我笑了。这太有趣了。我站起身来准备去做事，就把桌上的东西全部清理到废纸篓里，还有剩下的午餐，莫利的那些零碎东西。这里面没有任何我需要的东西。
晚上，我正看报纸时，莫利站到我身边。
“我的袋子呢？”
“什么袋子？”
“您知道的，我今天上午给您的那个。”
“我放到办公室了，怎么了？”
“我忘了把纸条放进去了。”她递过来一张纸条。“另外，我想要回来。”
“怎么了？”
“袋子里的所有东西都是我最喜欢的，爸爸。我觉得您也会喜欢玩那些东西，不过现在我想要回来。您不会扔了吧，爸爸，您这样做了吗？”她的眼里顿时充满了泪水。
“噢，不。我刚刚忘了带回家，”我撒谎说。“明天带回来，可以吗？”
当她如释重负地搂着我的脖子时，我打开那张没有放进袋子的纸条：“我爱您，爸爸。”
噢，天哪。
我长时间地凝望着孩子的脸。
莫利把她的珍藏给了我。那是一个七岁孩子的最爱。爱就蕴藏在那个纸袋里。而我却错过了。这不仅仅是错过，而是我把它遗弃了，因为“那里面没有任何我需要的东西”。
那既不是我第一次也不是最后一次感到自己已经丧失了做父亲的资格。
回办公室的路是这么漫长。这是一个懊悔之人的朝拜。我拎起纸篓，把里面的东西倒在办公桌上。清洁员进来收拾东西时，我正在“分门别类”。
“丢了东西吗？”
“是的，我的精神支柱。”
“也许就在这儿，别着急。是什么样的东西，我可以帮您一起找。”一开始，我没有告诉他，但事实上，我觉得已经没有比这更愚蠢的事了，于是告诉了他。
他并没有笑。“我也有孩子。”随后我们这对傻乎乎的兄弟便搜寻着那些无价之宝，我们相视而笑。
洗去恐龙身上的芥末，又在它身上喷上了清新剂以除去那股洋葱味，我小心翼翼地展开被揉成褐色纸球的那个多功能袋子，把那些无价之宝放了进去。我极为小心地把它带回家，就像一只受伤的小猫。第二天晚上，我把它还给了莫利。我们之间没有任何问题，也没有任何解释。
晚饭后，我让她告诉我关于袋子里那些东西的事情，于是她立刻把所有的东西都拿了出来，把它们排列在餐桌上。每一件东西都有一个故事，一个回忆，或者是一个梦和一个假想的朋友。我精明地说了许多遍，“我了解”。而且，事实上，我真的了解。
令我惊奇的是，几天后，莫利再一次把那个袋子给了我。同样破烂的袋子里面装着同样的东西。我觉得是被原谅了，也得到了信任和爱，还有一个小小的、很舒服的父亲头衔。几个月以后，那个袋子会不时地出现在我的身边。我不明白，在某个特定的日子女儿为什么给我或不给我那个袋子。
后来，莫利把注意力转移到其他物品上，发现了其他的珍宝，对这个游戏失去了兴趣，她长大了。
我呢？一直保留着这个袋子。她是在一天早上给我的，后来就再没要回去。我也一直保留着。
破旧的纸袋放在一个盒子里。她还是个孩子时，曾说：“看，这是我得到的最好的东西，把它给您吧。就像我过去拥有的一样，就给您了。”
What My Daughter Taught Me about Love
Robert Fulghum
The cardboard1 box is marked “The Good Stuff.” The box contains those odds and ends of personal treasures that have survived many bouts of cleanitoutandthrowitaway that seize me from time to time. A thief looking into the box would not take anything. But if the house ever catches on fire, the box goes with me when I run.
One of the keepsakes2 in the box is a small paper bag. Lunch sack. Though the top is sealed with duct tape, staples and several paper clips, there is a ragged rip in one side through which the contents may be seen.
This particular lunch sack has been in my care for maybe 14 years. But it really belongs to my daughter, Molly. Soon after she came of school age, she became an enthusiastic participant in packing lunches for herself, her brothers and me. Each bag got a share of sandwiches, apples, milk money and sometimes a note or a treat. One morning, Molly handed me two bags. One regular lunch sack and the one with the other duct tape and staples and paper clips.
“Why two bags？”
“The other one is something else.”
“What’s in it？”
“Just some stuff—take it with you.” I stuffed both sacks into my briefcase, kissed the child and rushed off.
At midday, while hurriedly scarfing down my real lunch, I tore open Molly’s bag and shook out the contents. Two hair ribbons, three small stones, a plastic dinosaur3, a pencil stub, a tiny seashell, two animal crackers, a marble, a used lipstick, a small doll, two chocolate kisses and 13 pennies.
I smiled. How charming. Rising to hustle off, I swept the desk clean into the wastebasket—leftover lunch, Molly’s junk and all. There wasn’t anything in there I needed.
That evening Molly came to stand beside me while I was reading the paper.
“Where’s my bag？”
“What bag？”
“You know, the one I gave you this morning.”
“I left it at the office, why？”
“I forgot to put this note in it.” She handed over the note. “Besides, I want it back.”
“Why？”
“Those are my things in the sack, Daddy, the ones I really like. I thought you might like to play with them, but now I want them back. You didn’t lose the bag, did you, Daddy？” Tears puddled in her eyes.
“Oh, no. I just forgot to bring it home,” I lied. “Bring it tomorrow. Okay？”
As she hugged my neck with relief, I unfolded the note that had not gotten into the sack, “I love you, Daddy.”
Oh. And uhoh.
I looked long at the face of my child.
Molly had given me her treasures. All that a 7yearold held dear. Love in a paper sack. And I had missed it. Not only missed it, but had thrown it away because “there wasn’t anything in there I needed.”
It wasn’t the first or the last time I felt my Daddy permit was about to run out.
It was a long trip back to the office. The pilgrimage of a penitent. I picked up the wastebasket and poured the contents on my desk. I was sorting it all out when the janitor came in to do his chores.
“Lose something？”
“Yes, my mind.”
“It’s probably in there, all right. What’s it look like, and I’ll help you find it.” I started not to tell him. But I couldn’t feel any more of a fool than I was already in fact, so I told him.
He didn’t laugh. “I got kids, too.” So the brotherhood of fools searched the trash and found the jewels, and he smiled at me and I smiled at him.
After washing the mustard off the dinosaur and spraying the whole thing with breath freshener to kill the smell of onions4, I carefully smoothed out the wadded ball of brown paper into a semifunctional bag and put the treasures inside. I carried it home gingerly5, like an injured kitten. The next evening, I returned it to Molly. No questions asked, no explanations offered.
After dinner I asked her to tell me about the stuff in the sack, and so she took it all out a piece at a time and placed the objects in a row on the dining room table. Everything had a story, a memory or was attached to dreams and imaginary friends. I managed to say, “I see” very wisely several times. And, as a matter of fact, I did see.
To my surprise, Molly gave the bag to me once again several days later. Same ratty bag. Same stuff inside. I felt forgiven. And trusted. And loved. And a little more comfortable wearing the title of Father. Over several months, the bag went with me from time to time. It was never clear to me why I did or did not get it on a given day.
In time Molly turned her attention to other things—found other treasures, lost interest in the game, grew up.
Me？ I was left holding the bag. She gave it to me one morning and never asked for its return. And so I have it still.
The worn paper sack is there in the box. Left from a time when a child said,“ Here—this is the best I’ve got—take it—it’s yours. Such as I have, give I to thee. ”
爱的小纸条
佚名
11年前，那是一个寒冬的下午，窗外，大片的雪花绕着雪松盘旋飞舞，枝头深绿色的叶尖上挂着小小的冰柱。
我的大儿子史蒂芬去上学了，丈夫里德去上班了，三个小孩挤在厨柜旁，桌面上堆着蜡笔和记号笔，汤姆正画着星条旗徽章，为纸飞机做漂亮的装饰。山姆正忙着画自画像，他胖乎乎的小手先画了一个头，然后在应当画身体的位置画了腿和胳膊。孩子们都全神贯注地忙着手上的活儿，汤姆不时地告诉弟弟怎样正确地制作一架能够穿行于整间屋子的飞机。
我们唯一的女儿劳拉静静地坐在那里，聚精会神地忙着她的事。她偶尔也会问如何拼写我们家庭某成员的名字，然后极为困难地逐个字母拼写出来。接着，她画了一些有着嫩绿小茎的花朵，在纸张的底部添些草边，每完成一页，她都会在右上角处画一片蓝天，中间是太阳。然后把它们举到眼前欣赏一番，心满意足地长舒一口气。
“宝贝，你干什么呢？”我问道。
看我之前她瞥了一眼她的兄弟们。
“这是一个惊喜。”她双手捂住了作品。
接着，她把每张纸的上下两边粘贴起来，尽量做成一个圆筒。做好后，她带着那些宝贝跑上楼梯，消失不见了。
直到深夜我才发现，每个人的卧室门上都贴着一个“邮”。史蒂夫一个，汤姆一个。她也没把山姆和小保罗忘了。
之后的几周内，我们会定期收到信件。她对我们每个人的爱都通过这小小的纸条表达了，这些短信写满的是一个年仅７岁的孩子纯真的问候。小保罗的信件由我负责拆阅，那是一页一页的彩色图画，其中有花朵，也有欢乐的笑靥。
“他还不识字，”她喃喃自语道，“但他能看这些图画。”
每次收到小女儿的礼物，我沉闷的心就豁然开朗。
她对我们心情体察的细微令我颇受感动，史蒂芬输了棒球赛后，便收到一封信，她认为他是世界上最好的棒球手。某天我感觉特别劳累时，便会收到一封信，对我的努力表示感谢，信纸下角还附有一个笑脸。
如今，那个小女孩已经长大，每天开车上社区学院。但是有些事情她一直都没有改变。大概就在一周前的一个下午，我在枕边发现了一张爱的纸条。
“妈妈，感谢您一如既往地支持我，”上面写着，“我为有您这样的好朋友而感到高兴。”
我情不自禁地想起，多年以来，这个可爱的孩子的笑容曾带给我无尽的欢乐。人间确有天使，我知道，我正幸运地与其中一位生活在一起。
■心灵小语
在成长过程中，孩子的心灵总是渴求父母的支持，而且懂得对这种无尽关爱心怀感激之情。虽然他们的举动有时看似天真，然而他们明澈的眼睛是可以看懂父母的辛苦和呵护的。
Love Notes
Anonymous
It’s been over eleven years now. It was a wintry afternoon, the snow swirling around the cedar trees outside, forcing little icicles to form at the tips of the deep green foliage 1clinging to the branches.
My older son, Stephen, was at school, and Reed, my husband, at work. My three little ones were clustered around the kitchen counter, the tabletop piled high with crayons and markers. Tom was perfecting a paper airplane, creating his own insignia with stars and stripes, while Sam worked on a selfportrait, his chubby hands drawing first a head, then legs and arms sticking out where the body should have been. The children mostly concentrated on their work, Tom occasionally tutoring his younger brother on exactly how to make a plane that would fly the entire length of the room.
But Laura, our only daughter, sat quietly, engrossed in her project. Every once in a while she would ask how to spell the name of someone in our family, then painstakingly form the letters one by one. Next, she would add flowers with small green stems, complete with grass lining the bottom of the page. She finished off each with a sun in the upper right hand corner, surrounded by an inch or two of blue sky. Holding them at eye level, she let out a long sigh of satisfaction.
“What are you making, Honey？” I asked.
She glanced at her brothers before looking back at me,
“It’s a surprise,” she said, covering up her work with her hands.
Next, she taped the top two edges of each sheet of paper together, trying her best to create a cylinder. When she had finished, she disappeared up the stairs with her treasure.
It wasn’t until later that evening that I noticed a “mailbox” taped onto the doors to each of our bedrooms. There was one for Steve. There was one for Tom. She hadn’t forgotten Sam or baby Paul.
For the next few weeks, we received mail on a regular basis. There were little notes confessing her love for each of us. There were short letters full of tiny compliments2 that only a sevenyearold would notice. I was in charge of receiving baby Paul’s letters, page after page of colored scenes including flowers with happy faces.
“He can’t read yet,” she whispered. “But he can look at the pictures.”
Each time I received one of my little girl’s gifts, it brightened my heart.
I was touched at how carefully she observed our moods. When Stephen lost a baseball game, there was a letter telling him she thought he was the best ballplayer in the whole world. After I had a particularly hard day, there was a message thanking me for my efforts, completed with a smile face tucked3 near the bottom corner of the page.
This same little girl is grown now, driving off every day to the community college. But some things about her have never changed. One afternoon only a week or so ago, I found a love note next to my bedside.
“Thanks for always being there for me, Mom,” it read. “I’m glad that we’re the best of friends.”
I couldn’t help but remember the precious child whose smile has brought me countless hours of joy throughout the years. There are angels among us. I know, I live with one of them luckily.
美丽英文—故事篇(10)
一个流浪汉的来访
洛拉B.沃尔特斯
我在院门口晃悠，想着要不要去街对面找维娜玩，她是我五年级最好的朋友。这时，我看见从街上走来一个流浪汉。
“你好，小姑娘，”他说，“你妈妈在家吗？”
我点点头，把门打开让他进了院子。经济大萧条时期，有许多流浪汉从河那边的游民营来过我家，他看起来跟他们一样，蓬乱的头发从那顶不像样的帽子下露了出来，破破烂烂的衬衣和裤子显然被雨水淋湿过，还穿着睡过觉。他浑身散发着一种篝火烧焦的味道。
他慢吞吞地走到门口。我妈妈出来了，他问：“夫人，能不能给我点吃的？”
“好吧，请坐在台阶上等一下。”
他坐在狭长的木板平台上，那是两间屋的走廊。不一会儿，妈妈打开帘子，递给他一个三明治，用家里自制的厚面包片夹着几大块熟肉。她还给了他一杯牛奶。“谢谢您，夫人。”他说。
我在门上一边摇晃着，一边看着这个流浪汉狼吞虎咽地吃下那个三明治，喝干牛奶。然后，他站起来，往外走穿过了大门。“他们说你妈妈会给我东西吃。”他出门的时候对我说。
维娜曾说过，谁给流浪汉们东西吃，他们就会互相转告。“他们从不去我家。”她骄傲地说道。
妈妈为什么要给他们东西吃呢？我很奇怪。妈妈是一个寡妇，上午在餐厅做服务员，晚上还要做缝纫来挣钱。她为什么要把东西给这些毫不相干的人吃呢？
我大步走进屋子，“维娜的妈妈说，这些人太懒了，不工作。我们为什么要他们给吃的呢？”
妈妈笑了，她蓝色的围裙和眼睛很相称，也衬托着她赤褐色的头发。
“宝贝，我们不知道他们为什么不工作，”她说，“但他们也曾是孩子，他们的妈妈爱他们，就像我爱你一样。”她把双手放在我肩头，把我拉到她的围裙边，围裙散发出浆洗过的和新烤的面包的味道。
“我给他们东西吃，是为了他们的妈妈。如果你饿了，又什么吃的都没有，我希望他们的妈妈也能给你东西吃。”
Visit with a Tramp
Lola B. Walters
I was swinging on the front gate, trying to decide whether to walk down the street to play with Verna, my best friend in fifth grade, when I saw a tramp1 come up the road.
“Hello, little girl,” he said. “Is your mama at home？”
I nodded and swung the gate open to let him in the yard. He looked like all the tramps who came to our house from the hobo2 camp by the river during the Great Depression. His shaggy hair hung below a shapeless hat, and his threadbare3 shirt and trousers had been rained on and slept in. He smelled like a bonfire4.
He shuffled to the door. When my mother appeared, he asked, “Lady, could you spare a bite to eat？”
“I think so. Please sit on the step.”
He dropped onto the narrow wooden platform that served as the front porch of our tworoom frame house. In minutes my mother opened the screen and handed him a sandwich made from thick slices of homemade bread and generous chunks5 of boiled meat. She gave him a tin cup of milk. “I thank you, lady,” he said.
I swung on the gate, watching the tramp wolf down the sandwich and drain the cup. Then he stood and walked back through the gate. “They said your mama would feed me,” he told me on the way out.
Verna had said the hobos told one another who would feed them. “They never come to my house,” she had announced proudly.
So why does Mama feed them？ I wondered. A widow, she worked as a waitress in the mornings and sewed at nights to earn money. Why should she give anything to men who didn’t work at all？
I marched6 inside. “Verna’s mother says those men are too lazy to work. Why do we feed them？”
My mother smiled. Her blue housedress matched her eyes and emphasized her auburn7 hair.
“Lovely, we don’t know why those men don’t work,” she said. “But they were babies once. And their mothers loved them, like I love you.” She put her hands on my shoulders and drew me close to her apron, which smelled of starch and freshly baked bread.
“I feed them for their mothers, because if you were ever hungry and had nothing to eat, I would want their mothers to feed you.”
爸爸的秘密
佚名
爸爸是在单亲家庭中长大的，他从小就没了父亲。那时候“政府援助”这个字眼儿更是闻所未闻。这个五口之家辛辛苦苦才能勉强度日。那种简朴的环境，造就了爸爸的吝啬。
年幼时，我和两个哥哥意识到其他孩子的零花钱都是从父母那里得到的。于是我们天真地去央求爸爸，却不知道这是一个错误的决定。他板起铁青的脸，用低沉的语气对我们说：“如果你们可以来要钱，你们就到了赚钱的年纪。”从那以后，缺钱花时，我们不是慌忙地跑到街坊四邻那里打零工，就是去看菜园里有什么可卖的东西。
当我们长大成人，在外面工作或上大学后，他的态度还是那么强硬。由于那段时间我们兄弟几个都没有自己的车，因此，无论我们何时回家，都只能乘坐公共汽车。尽管公共汽车站离我们家有两英里，但爸爸从未接过我们，即便是在天气恶劣的时候。如果有人埋怨(我的哥哥们常常牢骚满腹)，爸爸就会摆出做父亲的威严，扯开嗓门用最大的声音喊道：“你们长的两条腿就是用来走路的！”
因此，在离家上大学的期间，我知道无论何时回家，都要徒步走很长一段路。我倒不担心走路，让我真正害怕的是在公路和乡村小路上单独行走。由于爸爸好像并不在乎我的安全，我就更加觉得自己不受重视。然而，在一个春天的傍晚，我的这种感觉不复存在了。
那时，我在大学里度过了相当艰难的一周。不计其数的考试以及实验室里数小时的实验使我疲惫不堪。我向往自己的家和那张柔软的床。其他学生都与家人陆续在车站见了面，而我满怀希望地望着窗外，看着他们被父母接走。最终，公车颠簸着停在我的目的地，我拖着手提箱下了车，开始了一段既漫长又艰难的回家之旅。
在那条通往山丘的车道边有一排女贞树篱，我的家就在山丘上。每次我一离开公路，转到最后一段路上时，那道树篱便会映入眼帘，我总会感到很轻松，因为这说明我就快到家了。在那个特殊的傍晚，我刚刚看到那道树篱，天空中就飘起了毛毛细雨。我便停下脚步，将一本书放进手提箱。当我站起身时，发现一个灰色的小点沿着那道树篱的顶端快速地移动，正向我家的房子移去。近看时，我才知道那是爸爸的头顶。接着，我如梦初醒——每次我回家的时候，他都会站在那道树篱的后面，观察着，直到他确信我已经安全到达。我强忍住快要夺眶而出的泪水。毕竟，他还是在乎我的。
从那以后，每次回家，那个灰点都成了为我指引道路的明灯。我迫不及待地走近，就想看着它悄悄地在那些绿树叶间移动。而当我到家时，就会发现爸爸假装坐在椅子上。“噢！是你呀！”他会这样说，并拉长脸，装出一副惊讶的表情。
我就会回答：“是的，爸爸，是我。我回来了。”
■心灵小语
每个人都会有属于自己的小秘密。年幼的孩子心里总想着商店里的毛绒玩具，上课的学生心里总想着没有掏到的鸟窝，恋爱中的青年总想着心爱的人儿。而我们的父母呢，他们时时刻刻牵挂的都是自己的儿女，惦念着他们吃得饱不饱，穿得暖不暖。这是值得我们永远记住的，是值得我们细细品味的。不用总是把“我爱你”挂在嘴边，不要等到他们离去的时候才后悔，现在就行动起来，来回报他们的爱吧。
Father’s Secret
Anonymous
My father was raised in a fatherless home at a time when government assistance was unheard of. The family of five struggled mightily to survive. That Spartan upbringing caused my father to be extremely tightfisted.
When we children—two older brothers and myself—became aware that other children got spending money from their parents, we made the mistake of asking father for some. His face turned stonecold. “If you’re old enough to ask, you’re old enough to earn,” he rumbled1. And so, when the need arose, we scurried about the neighborhood seeking odd jobs or peddling produce from the garden.
His attitude didn’t soften as we grew into adulthood and drifted away to jobs or college. There was a period of time when none of us had a car, so we had to ride the bus whenever we came home. Though the bus stopped about two miles from home, Dad never met us, even in inclement weather. If someone grumbled2 (and my brothers grumbled a lot), he’d say in his loudest fathervoice,“That’s what your legs are for！”
So when I went away to college, I knew I was in for a long walk whenever I came home. The walk didn’t bother me as much as the fear of walking alone along the highway and country roads. I also felt less than valued that my father didn’t seem concerned about my safety. That feeling was canceled one spring evening.
It had been a particularly difficult week at college. Tests and long hours in labs had left me exhausted. I longed for3 home and a soft bed. As other students were met at their stops, I gazed wistfully out of the window. Finally, the bus shuddered to a stop at my destination point, and I stepped off, lugging my suitcase to begin the long trek home.
A row of privet hedge4 edged the driveway that climbed the hill to our house. Once I had turned off the highway to start the last lap of my journey, I was always relieved to see the hedge because it meant that I was almost home. On that particular evening, the hedge had just come into view when a gentle rain began to fall. I stopped to put a book in my suitcase and when I stood up, I saw something gray skimming5 along the top of the hedge, moving toward the house. Upon closer observation, I realized it was the top of my father’s head. Then I knew, each time I’d come home, he had stood behind the hedge, watching, until he knew I had arrived safely. I swallowed hard against the threatening tears. He did care, after all.
On subsequent visits, that spot of gray became my beacon6. I could hardly wait until I was close enough to watch for its covert movement above the greenery. Upon reaching home, I would find my father sitting innocently in his chair.“So！ It’s you！” he’d say, his face lengthening into mock surprise.
I replied, “Yes, Dad, it’s me. I’m home.”
爱的遗赠
佚名
年轻时的阿尔是一个技艺娴熟的艺术家和陶工。他有妻子和两个健壮的儿子。一晚，他的大儿子腹痛难忍，但因为考虑到可能只是一般的肠胃不适，阿尔和妻子都没有太在意。但是，事实上男孩患的是急性阑尾炎，当晚便突然夭折了。
如果当时意识到病情的严重性，儿子的死就能够避免。知道了这些，沉重的负罪感使阿尔的精神状况急剧下降。更糟糕的是，不久妻子也离开了他，留下六岁的小儿子与他相依为命。这两件事带来的伤痛，让阿尔无法承受，于是他选择了借酒浇愁。不久，阿尔就成了一个酒鬼。
随着酒瘾越来越大，阿尔开始失去他拥有的一切——家、土地、艺术品、一切的一切。最终，阿尔孤独地死在了旧金山的一家汽车旅馆里。
听说了阿尔的死讯，我的反应像世人对未能留下遗产的人的蔑视一样。“多么失败的人啊！”我想，“枉度了一世！”
然而随着时间的推移，我对自己之前那样苛刻的判断有了新的认识。你不知道，我现在认识了阿尔那个已成年的小儿子，厄尼。他是我见过的最善良、最仁爱的人。看着厄尼和他的孩子，我看到了他们之间所流露出的那种关爱。我知道那种善良和仁爱必定来自某处。
我不曾听到厄尼对父亲有太多的谈论。毕竟为一个酒鬼辩护并不是件容易的事。一天，我鼓起勇气问了他。“有些事我一直感到很疑惑。”我说，“我知道，你几乎是由你父亲独自带大的。他到底是如何教育你的，竟让你变得如此特别？”
厄尼静静地坐着，思考了一会儿，说：“从我记事起，一直到18岁离家，阿尔每晚都会来我的房间，给我一个吻并说：‘我爱你，儿子。’”
当我意识到自己是多么愚蠢时，我的泪夺眶而出。我竟然说他是一个失败者！他死后没有留下任何物质方面的遗产，但他是一位慈爱的父亲，他培养出了一个我所见过的最善良、最无私的儿子。
■心灵小语
离开人世后，给亲人留下一些东西，或是一笔巨额财产，或是一栋价值连城的别墅，也或者未留丝毫，很多人都是这样做的。文中的父亲虽是一个酒鬼，不容推崇，但他却是位优秀的父亲。他懂得怎样爱儿子，虽然自己身边的亲人相继离去，但他依然懂得爱，并将爱赋予了儿子。他留下的，不仅仅是需要我们学习的榜样，还是一位父亲内心之爱的最深表达！
A Legacy of Love
Anonymous
As a young man, Al was a skilled artist, a potter1. He had a wife and two fine sons. One night, his oldest son developed a severe stomachache. Thinking it was only some common intestinal disorder, neither Al nor his wife took the condition very seriously. But the malady was actually acute appendicitis2, and the boy died suddenly that night.
Knowing the death could have been prevented if he had only realized the seriousness of the situation, Al’s emotional health deteriorated under the enormous burden of his guilt. To make matters worse his wife left him a short time later, leaving him alone with his sixyearold younger son. The hurt and pain of the two situations were more than Al could handle, and he turned to alcohol to help him cope. In time Al became an alcoholic.
As the alcoholism progressed, Al began to lose everything he possessed — his home, his land, his art objects, everything. Eventually Al died alone in a San Francisco motel room.
When I heard of Al’s death, I reacted with the same disdains3 the world shows for one who ends his life with nothing material to show for it. “What a complete failure！” I thought. “What a totally wasted life！”
As time went by, I began to reevaluate my earlier harsh judgment. You see, I knew Al’s now adult son, Ernie. He is one of the kindest, most caring, most loving men I have ever known. I watched Ernie with his children and saw the free flow of love between them. I knew that kindness and caring had to come from somewhere.
I hadn’t heard Ernie talk much about his father. It is so hard to defend an alcoholic. One day I worked up my courage to ask him. “I’m really puzzled by something,” I said. “I know your father was basically the only one to raise you. What on earth did he do that you became such a special person？”
Ernie sat quietly and reflected for a few moments. Then he said, “From my earliest memories as a child until I left home at 18, Al came into my room every night, gave me a kiss and said, ‘I love you, son.’”
Tears came to my eyes as I realized what a fool I had been to judge Al as a failure. He had not left any material possessions behind. But he had been a kind loving father, and he left behind one of the finest, most giving men I have ever known.
红红的小脸蛋
尼克.拉扎里斯
我主动提出要照看三岁的女儿拉曼达，这样妻子就可以跟她的朋友外出。我在一个房间忙时，拉曼达也在另一个房间玩得很开心。我觉得这样完全没有问题。可是过了一会儿房间里却没了动静，我大叫了一声：“拉曼达，你在干什么？”没有回应，我又问了一次，听到她说：“噢……没什么。”“没什么？‘没什么’是什么意思？”我从桌前站起来，跑到客室，却看到她跑出了客厅。我追她上楼，又看到了她转进卧室的小背影。我要抓到她了！她逃脱后跑进了浴室。糟糕的一步！我把她堵在了“死角”。我让她转过身来，她不肯。我用父亲威严的声音对她说：“小姐，我让你转过来！”
慢慢地，她转向了我。妻子新买的唇膏正被她捏在手中，满脸都涂满了鲜红的唇膏（除了嘴唇）！
她用恐惧的眼神望着我，嘴唇发抖，这时，我耳边响起了各种责骂小孩的声音。“你怎么……你该知道这样做不对……我告诉你多少次了……简直太糟了……”此时我只需要找出一句常用的话来指责她，让她知道自己刚才的行为是多么恶劣。但在我开火之前，我看到妻子一个小时前刚刚穿在她身上的运动衫，上面写着这样几个大字：“我是一个完美小天使！”看着满眼泪光的她，我眼前看到的并不是一个不听话的坏女孩，而是一个小天使……一个珍贵并拥有奇妙个性的完美小天使，我险些将她身上的这些美好扼杀掉。
“小甜甜，你看起来真美！来，我们照张相，那么妈妈就能看到你特别的小脸了。”我给她照了相，感谢上帝，我没有错过这次机会，来重新肯定他赐予我的这位小天使是多么完美。
A Small Bright Red Face
Nick Lazaris
I had offered to watch my 3yearold daughter, Ramanda, so that my wife could go out with a friend. I was getting some work done while Ramanda appeared to be having a good time in the other room. No problem I figured. But then it got a little too quiet and I yelled out,“ What are you doing, Ramanda？” No response. I repeated my question and heard her say, “Oh ... nothing.”“Nothing？ What does‘nothing’mean？” I got up from my desk and ran out into the living room, whereupon I saw her take off down the hall. I chased her up the stairs and watched her as her little behind made a hard left into the bedroom. I was gaining on her！ She took off for the bathroom. Bad move. I had her cornered. I told her to turn around. She refused. I pulled out my big, mean, authoritative Daddy voice, “Young lady, I said turn around！”
Slowly, she turned toward me. In her hand was what was left of my wife’s new lipstick. And every square inch of her face was covered with bright red (except her lips of course)！
As she looked up at me with fearful eyes, lips trembling, I heard every voice that had been shouted to me as a child. “How could you ... You should know better than that ... How many times have you been told ...What a bad thing to do ...” It was just a matter of my picking out which old message I was going to use on her so that she would know what a bad girl she had been. But before I could let loose, I looked down at the sweatshirt my wife had put on her only an hour before. In big letters it said, “I’M A PERFECT LITTLE ANGEL！” I looked back into her tearful eyes and instead of seeing a bad girl who didn’t listen, I saw a child of God ... a perfect little angel full of worth, value and a wonderful spontaneity that I had come dangerously close to slamming out of her.
“Sweetheart, you look beautiful！Let’s take a picture so Mommy can see how special you look.” I took the picture and thanked God that I didn’t miss the opportunity to reaffirm what a perfect little angel He had given me.
好运符——一张两美元钞票
尤金妮亚.兰普勒
有一张两美元的钞票一直保存在我的钱夹里，那是我6岁时妈妈给的。
我不迷信，但无论到哪里，我都随身带着它。妈妈希望这张两美元钞票能让我事事顺利。
当时，她看着我说：“带上这两美元吧，它会带给你好运。”
“谢谢妈妈，”我说，“我会永远带着它。”
每天早上，穿好衣服后，我就将这两美元装进口袋。17岁那年，妈妈去世了。当时，我掏出那张两美元钞票，久久地攥在手中。我知道，妈妈会一直关注我以后的生活。
每每遇到棘手问题，我就拿出那两美元，放在桌上，一连几个小时盯着它，最终总能想出办法。
第一次找工作时我已经30岁了，又有些羞怯。一想到要面试，我就很害怕，但我必须得工作。第一次面试，在等候室里，除了我还有五位女性求职者。她们都比我年轻，并且衣着考究。其中一位穿着蓝色斑纹套装，配以类似风格的钱包和鞋子，简直太完美了。我很清楚，若以履历论长短，我不是这五位女士的对手。
业务经理马丁太太把我叫进办公室。
“你觉得你能胜任这份工作的理由是什么？”她问道。
“我很需要这份工作，而且，也没有我做不来的事。”我答道。
回答完一连串的问题后，面试结束了。我正要迈出办公室时，转过身对马丁太太说：“马丁太太，我知道自己并不如其他人优秀，但是，请您给我一个机会。我接受能力很强，会成为公司优秀的一员。”
谢过马丁太太后，回到家时，我已经疲惫不堪了。我心想，算了，没有关系，明天又是新的一天。
当晚，我正准备睡觉时，突然接到了马丁太太的电话。
“吉娜，”她说，“你虽不是应试者中最出色的，但你对自己充满信心，因此我们决定给你一个展示自己的机会。”
我简直难以相信这是真的，我激动得大叫起来，兴奋得在房间里又蹦又跳。电话那头传来马丁太太的笑声，我这才意识到我们还在通话。
“马丁太太，谢谢您！我不会令您失望的。”说完，我挂断了电话。
我掏出钱夹，拿出了那张两美元钞票。
“谢谢您，妈妈，我的好运来了。”我大声地说，妈妈应该听得到。
那一刻，我想起了妈妈说的一番话，她把我们拉到客厅里说：“在妈妈眼里，你们都很棒。无论做什么事情，失败了，千万别放弃。失败并不可怕，我们可以化失败为动力。我相信，你们一定能够成功。”
我时刻都想念妈妈，那两美元也依然珍藏在我的钱夹里。多年后，在一次家庭聚会上，我才发现，我们兄弟姐妹的钱夹里都各有一张两美元钞票。
我们都笑了，谈论着妈妈赠给我们的这份特殊礼物。她在我们心底播下了自信的种子，而这两美元让这粒种子迅速茁壮地成长起来。
■心灵小语
母爱就如一场春雨，一首轻柔的歌曲，润物细无声，但却绵远悠长。在时而平坦时而坎坷的人生道路上，它好似一眼清泉滋润着孩子们的心田，带给他们无限的力量和信心，让他们在面对挫折时，仍然能够坚定地前行。
Extra Good Luck
Eugenia Lampley
I keep a twodollar bill in my wallet that was given to me by my mother when I was six years old.
I am not superstitious1 but the bill goes with me wherever I go. My mother gave it to me so that luck would follow me everywhere.
She looked at me and said, “I want you to carry this twodollar bill for extra good luck.”
“Thanks mom,” I replied. “I will keep it close to me always.”
Every morning I would get dressed and my twodollar bill went into my pocket. My mother passed away when I was 17 years old and I remembered taking out my twodollar bill. I held it in my hand for the longest time and knew that she would be watching over me the rest of my life.
Each time I felt I had a crisis on my hands, I could reach for my twodollar bill and set it on the table. I would stare at it for several hours and could always come up with a solution.
When I applied for my first job, I was thirty years old and very shy. The thought of being interviewed for a job was scary but I had to work. On my first interview, as I sat in the waiting room, I noticed there were five women ahead of me. All of the women were younger and very well dressed. One of them was impeccable2 in her blue striped suit with matching purse and shoes. I knew I was up against women better qualified by looking at the length of their resumes.
Ms. Martin, the office manager, summoned me into her office.
“What makes you feel you are qualified for this job？” she asked.
“I really need this job and there is nothing I can not do,” I responded.
She asked me a series of questions and the interview was over. As I exited her office, I turned around and said, “Ms. Martin, I know that I am not qualified like your other applicants, but please give me a chance. I learn quickly and can be a very productive member of your team.”
I thanked her and went home exhaustedly. Oh well, I thought, tomorrow would be another day.
That evening as I was getting ready for bed, I received a phone call from Ms. Martin.
“Gina,” she said, “you were not the most qualified applicant, but you have so much confidence in yourself that we decided to give you a chance to prove yourself.”
I screamed out loud, was jumping all over the room in disbelief. I could hear Ms. Martin laughing in the background and suddenly I realized that Ms. Martin was still on the line.
“Thank you, Ms. Martin, you will not regret this decision,” I said and hung up the phone.
I got my wallet and took out my twodollar bill.
“Thanks mom, I am going to make it.” I said out loud so my mother could hear me.
At that instant, I remembered the time she pulled all of us into the living room and said, “You are all brilliant in my mind, but if you fail once don’t give up. Don’t fear failure. It is a way of getting us to try harder. You will succeed, I promise.”
I still think of mom everyday and still keep my twodollar bill in my wallet. At a family reunion3 years later, I found out that my brothers and sisters all had a twodollar bill in their wallet.
We all laughed and talked about how special this gift from Mom had been to each and ever had reinforced the confidence Mom had instilled one of us. It led in us.
蓝宝石项链
富尔顿.奥斯勒
珍格雷斯走进皮特理查德小店的那天，恰恰是皮特最感孤寂的日子。这间小店是祖父传给他的，各种古玩杂乱地堆放在前面小小的橱窗里：有内战前人们戴的手镯和纪念品盒，有金戒指、银盒子、翡翠、象牙制品和精美的小雕像等。在这个冬日的下午，一个小孩站在那儿，前额顶在橱窗上，瞪大眼睛，认真地看着每一件物品，仿佛在寻找什么奇特的宝贝。最后，她站直了身子，脸上露出满意的神情。然后，走进了店里。
店里很阴暗，里面的摆设比橱窗里还凌乱，首饰盒、决斗手枪、钟和灯等塞在架子上；熨斗、曼陀林和一些不知名的东西则堆在地上。皮特站在柜台后面，他是一个不到30岁的男人，却满头白发。看着这个没戴手套的小顾客把手放在柜台上，他不禁有些不悦。
“先生，”她开口说，“您能把橱窗里那串蓝宝石项链拿给我看看吗？”皮特拉开帘子，拿出项链，摊在掌心给她看，蓝绿色的宝石在他苍白的手中闪烁着明亮的光芒。“好美啊，”孩子说，近乎自言自语地说，“您能帮我把项链包装得漂亮些吗？”
皮特冷冷地问：“你想买这个送给谁？”“送给我大姐，她一直照顾着我，这是妈妈去世后的第一个圣诞节。我想送姐姐一份最棒的圣诞礼物。”
“你有多少钱？”皮特谨慎地问道。她急忙解开一块裹着的手帕，把所有的便士都倒在柜台上。“我把所有的钱都拿出来了。”她简单解释道。
皮特若有所思地看着她。然后，他小心地抽回了拿着项链的手。这时价格标签露了出来，但只是他能看到，小女孩看不到。怎么跟她说呢？小女孩晶莹的蓝眼睛中充满了信任，这眼神触动了他隐隐作痛的旧伤。“你等等，”说着，他转身走进储藏室后面。“你叫什么名字？”他边忙边回头问道。“珍.格雷斯。”
皮特从储藏室出来，手里拿着一个盒子，盒子外面包着鲜艳的红色包装纸，上面还系着一条打着蝴蝶结的绿丝带。“给你，”他淡淡地说道，“路上别弄丢了。”
她高兴地跑出去，出门时回头对他微笑。透过窗户，皮特看着她远去的身影，一片悲凉猛然袭上心头。他内心深处无法掩饰的悲伤，被珍.格雷斯的某些东西和那串项链再次唤醒。这个孩子有着麦黄色的头发，海水般深蓝色的眼睛。不久前，皮特曾爱上一个女孩，她也有着同样的麦黄色头发和海水般深蓝色的眼睛，而那串蓝宝石项链本该是她的。
然而，一个雨夜——一辆卡车在光滑的路面上紧急刹车——她的生命就这样消失了，他的梦就这样破碎了。从那以后，皮特就陷入了极端的孤苦与悲痛的煎熬之中。工作时，皮特把注意力全放在顾客身上，但到了晚上，他的世界几乎就是一片空白。于是，他极力想冲出日渐强烈的自怜自悯的阴霾。然而，珍.格雷斯的蓝眼睛又勾起了他对已逝至爱的回忆。这些苦痛，让他在节日中欢愉购物的顾客面前显得有些畏缩了。接下来的10天中，店里的生意很好，善于砍价的女士们蜂拥而入，她们抚弄着店中各式各样的饰品，讨价还价。最后一个顾客走出店时，已经是圣诞节前夕的深夜了，皮特舒了一口气。又过去了一年，然而对于皮特来说，这一夜还是很漫长的。
门开了，一个长着金黄色头发、深蓝色双眸的年轻女子匆匆走进了店中。不知道为什么，皮特觉得她看起来很面熟，但又记不起来何时何地见过她。她从手提包中拿出一个用红纸松散包着的小盒子，上面还系着一条打着蝴蝶结的绿丝带。她打开盒子，一串闪闪发光的蓝宝石项链立刻映入了皮特的眼帘。
“这是在您的店里买的吗？”她问道。
皮特抬起头，看着她，轻声说：“是的，是我卖的。”
“宝石是真的吗？”
“当然是真的。质地虽不是最上乘的——但这的确是真的。”
“您还记得把它卖给谁了吗？”
“我卖给了一个叫珍的小姑娘。她想把它作为圣诞礼物送给她姐姐。”
“这串项链多少钱呢？”
“价格，”他严肃地告诉她，“是商家与顾客之间的秘密。”
“但珍是买不起这个的。她只有几便士的零花钱，怎么买得起这串宝石项链呢？”
“她给出的是最高价，”他说，“她支付了她所有的钱。”
沉默笼罩着这个小古玩店。皮特看着远处正在响着钟声的教堂尖塔。那鸣响的钟声，柜台上的小盒子，姑娘眼中的疑问，皮特心中难以名状的生命复苏感——这一切都源于一个小孩的爱。
“您为什么要这么做呢？”
皮特把手中的礼物递给她。
“已经是圣诞节早上了，”他说，“我想送礼物，但没什么人可送的，这太令人伤心了。我能送你回家，然后到你家的门口对你说一句圣诞快乐吗？”
于是，皮特和这位不知姓名的姑娘走出了店门，在给世界带来幸福的新年伊始，他们伴着齐鸣的钟声，走进了快乐的人群中。
A String of Blue Beads
Fulton Oursler
Pete Richard was the loneliest man in town on the day Jean Grace opened the door of his shop. It’s a small shop which had come down to him from his grandfather. The little front window was strewn with a disarray of oldfashioned things: bracelets and lockets worn in days before the Civil War, gold rings and silver boxes, images of jade and ivory, porcelain figurines1. On this winter’s afternoon a child was standing there, her forehead against the glass, earnest and enormous eyes studying each treasure as if she were looking for something quite special. Finally she straightened up with a satisfied air and entered the store.
The shadowy interior of Pete Richard’s establishment was even more cluttered than his show window. Shelves were stacked with jewel caskets, dueling pistols, clocks and lamps, and the floor was heaped with irons, mandolins and things hard to find a name for. Behind the counter stood Pete himself, a man not more than thirty but with hair already turning gray. There was a bleak air about him as he looked at the small customer who flattened her ungloved hands on the counter.
“Mister,” she began, “would you please let me look at the string of blue beads in the window？” Pete parted the draperies and lifted out a necklace. The turquoise2 stones gleamed brightly against the pallor of his palm as he spread the ornament before her. “They’re just perfect,” said the child, entirely to herself. “Will you wrap them up pretty for me, please？”
Pete studied her with a stony air. “Are you buying these for someone？” “They’re for my big sister. She takes care of me. You see, this will be the first Christmas since mother died. I’ve been looking for the most wonderful Christmas present for my sister.”
“How much money do you have？” asked Pete warily. She had been busily untying the knots in a handkerchief and now she poured out a handful of pennies on the counter. “I emptied my bank.” she explained simply.
Pete looked at her thoughtfully. Then he carefully drew back the necklace. The price tag was visible to him but not to her. How could he tell her？ The trusting look of her blue eyes smote3 him like the pain of an old wound. “Just a minute,” he said, and turned toward the back of the store. Over his shoulder he called, “What’s your name？” He was very busy about something. “Jean Grace.”
When Pete returned to where Jean Grace waited, a package lay in his hand, wrapped in scarlet paper and tied with a bow of green. “There you are,” he said shortly, “Don’t lose it on the way home.”
She smiled happily over her shoulder as she ran out the door. Through the window he watched her go, while desolation flooded his thoughts. Something about Jean Grace and her string of beads had stirred him to the depths of a grief that would not stay buried. The child’s hair was wheat yellow, her eyes sea blue, and once upon a time, not long before, Pete had been in love with a girl with hair of that same yellow and with eyes just as blue. And the turquoise necklace was to have been hers.
But there had come a rainy night—a truck skidding on a slippery road—and the life was crushed out of his dream. Since then, Pete had lived too much with his grief in solitude. He was politely attentive to customers, but after hours his world seemed irrevocably4 empty. He was trying to forget in a selfpitying haze that deepened day by day. The blue eyes of Jean Grace jolted him into acute remembrance of what he had lost. The pain of it made him recoil from the exuberance of holiday shoppers. During the next ten days trade was brisk; chattering women swarmed in, fingering trinkets, trying to bargain. When the last customer had gone, late on Christmas Eve, he sighed with relief. It was over for another year. But for Pete the night was not quite over.
The door opened and a young woman hurried in. With an inexplicable start, he realized that she looked familiar, yet he could not remember when or where he had seen her before. Her hair was golden yellow and her large eyes were blue. Without speaking, she drew from her purse a package loosely unwrapped in its red paper, a bow of green ribbon with it. Presently the string of blue beads lay gleaming again before him.
“Did this come from your shop？” she asked.
Pete raised his eyes to hers and answered softly, “Yes, it did.”
“Are the stones real？”
“Yes. Not the finest quality—but real.”
“Can you remember who it was you sold them to？”
“She was a small girl. Her name was Jean. She bought them for her older sister’s Christmas present.”
“How much are they worth？”
“The price, ”he told her solemnly, “is always a confidential matter between the seller and the customer.”
“But Jean has never had more than a few pennies of spending money. How could she pay for them？”
“She paid the biggest price anyone can ever pay,” he said. “She gave all she had.”
There was a silence then that filled the little curio shop. He saw the faraway steeple, a bell began ringing. The sound of the distant chiming, the little package lying on the counter, the question in the eyes of the girl, and the strange feeling of renewal struggling unreasonably in the heart of Pete, all had come to be because of the love of a child.
“But why did you do it？”
He held out5 the gift in his hand.
“It’s already Christmas morning,” he said. “And it’s my misfortune that I have no one to give anything to. Will you let me see you home and wish you a Merry Christmas at your door？”
And so, to the sound of many bells and in the midst of happy people, Pete Richard and a girl whose name he had yet to hear, walked out into the beginning of the great day that brings hope into the world for us all.
美丽英文—故事篇(11)
爱的礼物
辛迪.贝克
“是时候了。”姐姐轻声说道。听到她的话，我立刻醒来，心也怦怦直跳。现在是凌晨4点，我也不知道自己怎么能睡到这么晚。毕竟，这是圣诞节的早晨，我本来应该在几个小时前就醒来的。
我们尽可能用最快的速度轻手轻脚地穿过走廊。爸爸妈妈正在屋子最后面的房间里安静地睡着。我等待这一天已经一年了，我每天都在自己的日历上标记着日子的滑过。从查里.布朗到鲁道夫，我在电视上看着每一期圣诞特辑，现在圣诞的清晨终于来临了，我的心激动得简直要蹦出来了。我想笑、想玩，也许最想做的，就是拆开我的圣诞礼物。
我们来到小房间前，这时姐姐把她的一根手指放在唇边，小声说：“可能圣诞老人还在呢。”我点点头，完全领会了她的意思。6岁的我已经知道了所有有关圣诞老人和他的魔法故事。11岁的姐姐正努力帮我实现梦想。
当我们终于走进小房间时，我本能地想冲向那些精心堆在房间里的礼物，但是不知为什么我犹豫了。我没有冲过去，而是迟疑地打量着房间，希望这一刻能够永恒不变。姐姐静静地站在我身旁，与我一起注视着那棵几个星期前我们一起装扮的圣诞树。树上灯光闪烁，装饰品闪闪发光，金黄色的小天使就坐在稍稍偏离中心的树顶上。这是我见过的最美的风景。
旁边的桌子上，我们留给圣诞老人的饼干不见了，取而代之的是一张纸条，上面写着：“谢谢你们，圣诞快乐。”
看到那张纸条，我惊讶地瞪大了眼睛，因为我十分肯定我终于找到圣诞老人存在的真实证据了。不过，没等我回过神来，姐姐递给我一个小包裹。“这是我送给你的礼物。”她害羞地笑着说。
我颤抖着手指，慢慢打开那个包裹，小心翼翼地让自己别弄坏里面那个绿色的首饰盒。盒子里放的是姐姐最喜欢的项链。那条项链的吊坠是一个小小的心形，链子是金黄色的，这是两年前爷爷送给她的礼物。当时的情景浮现在我的眼前，圣诞老人的纸条被我忘得一干二净。
姐姐伸出手臂抱着我说：“爷爷本来是想今年送给你一条这样的项链的，但是……”她停下来，轻轻擦擦眼睛继续说道，“只是他没有机会了。”爷爷是在复活节的早晨去世的——突发的心脏病夺走了他的生命，他的离去让我们全家都受到了打击。妈妈总是在没人的时候悄悄流泪。姐姐故作轻松地耸耸她那瘦弱的肩膀说：“因此，我想你一定愿意收下我这条项链。”
我捧着这条项链，就好像它是用世上最纯的黄金制成的一样。它看上去甚至比圣诞树上的装饰灯还要明亮。
“我帮你戴上吧。”姐姐一边说一边把项链戴在我的脖子上。
我的皮肤碰到那颗小小的心，感觉暖暖的，像是有生命一样。爷爷在我的心里依然活着。他喜欢过圣诞节，圣诞节这一天他总会给我们每个人一份特别的惊喜。姐姐像是读懂了我的心思，对我说道：“就把这当做是爷爷送给你的惊喜吧。”
我拉过她的手，用尽全身的力气紧紧抱住她。
两小时后，当爸爸妈妈最终走进小房间时，他们看到了一棵漂亮的圣诞树，很多没有拆开的礼物以及紧紧拥在一起的两姐妹。
■心灵小语
有一种给予，是将自己最珍爱的东西送给他人。有时，放弃、失去与得到，拥有一样美丽，与其说这是一种物质的易主，倒不如说是情感的馈赠。姐妹之情，细腻而真挚，在相互赠与的过程中，亲情、友情变得更纯、更真、更深。
A Gift of Love
Cindy Beck
“It’s time,” my sister whispered, and I was instantly awake, my heart pounding1 frantically in my chest. It was 4 a.m., and I wondered how I could have ever slept so late. After all, it was Christmas moming. I should have been awake hours ago.
We crept down the hall as quickly as we could. In the back of the house, our parents slept peacefully. I had been waiting for this day all year, marking off the days on my calendar as they passed, one by one. I had watched every Christmas special on TV, from Charlie Brown to Rudolph, and now that Christmas morning was finally here, I could hardly contain myself. I wanted to laugh, I wanted to play and, perhaps most of all, I wanted to rip2 open my presents.
As we approached the den, my sister put a single finger to her lips and whispered, “Santa might still be here.” I nodded in complete understanding. At six, I knew all about Santa and his magic. At eleven, my sister was trying to give me my dream.
When we finally walked into the den, my first instinct was to rush toward the presents that were stacked ohsocarefully around the room, but something made me hesitate. Instead of rushing forward, I stared in wonder at the room, wanting this single moment to last as long as it could. My sister stood quietly beside me, and we stared at the beautiful tree that we had decorated3 together weeks before. The lights shimmered, the ornaments sparkled, and our golden angel sat just slightly offcenter on the top of the tree. It was the most perfect sight I’d ever seen.
On a nearby table, the cookies that we’d left for Santa were gone, and a small note read, “Thank you. Merry Christmas！”
My eyes widened in amazement at the note, for I was sure that I had finally found real proof of the jolly man’s existence. Yet before I could truly marvel4 over the letter, my sister was handing me a small package. “It’s from me,” she whispered with a shy smile.
With trembling fingers, I slowly opened the package, carefully preserving the green bow. Inside, I found my sister’s favorite necklace. It was a small heart on a golden chain. She had received the present from our grandfather two years before. My eyes filled at the sight. Santa’s note was forgotten.
She put her arm around me.“He was going to give you one this year, but—” she stopped, and carefully wiped her eyes, “he just did not get a chance.” He had died on Easter morning—the heart attack had been a harsh shock to our family. Our mother still cried quietly when she thought no one was watching. My sister squared5 her slender shoulders with a brave air. “So, I thought you might like to have mine.”
I held the necklace as if it were made of the finest gold in the world. It seemed to shine even brighter than the lights on our tree.
“Let me help you,” she said as she moved to put the necklace around my neck.
The small heart felt warm against my skin, almost like it was alive. In my mind, I could see my grandfather. He’d loved Christmas, and he had always given each of us a special surprise on Christmas day.
“Consider this his surprise,” my sister told me as if she’d read my mind.
I grabbed her hand and held onto her with all of the strength that I possessed.
When our parents finally made their way into the den two hours later, they saw a beautiful Christmas tree, a dozen unopened gifts, and two sisters holding each other tightly.
天堂来信
佚名
夏洛特和凯蒂的父母几个月内相继离开了人世……但是，每年的生日，姐妹俩都能收到母亲的贺卡，卡片上语重心长的教诲让人感动不已。
六七张贺卡和两份书签，这就是夏洛特.马特龙收到的圣诞礼物和生日礼物。这些卡片被她视为无价之宝，精心保存在床头一个特制的盒子里。
她凝视着一张日期为1996年10月的贺卡，“我亲爱的夏洛特，”她读道，几乎不用看，已经能背下了。“我很难过，不能与你共度十岁生日，特寄此卡片，以表祝贺……”
６个星期后，她的妈妈黛布尔.马特龙因乳腺癌去世。她只有35岁，却给女儿留下了一笔独特的遗产。
临死前，黛布尔分别给两个女儿——11岁夏洛特和10岁的凯特写好了生日贺卡。这样，每逢生日她们都可以收到礼物。正是这种良苦用心，帮助姐妹俩战胜了难以承受的巨大悲痛。
到现在为止，她们已经分别收到了母亲的两张卡片。在那令人心酸的小盒子里，还存放着另外一些卡片，那是他们的父亲阿伦寄来的。当时他因淋巴肿瘤住在医院，身体已经虚弱到无法动手写字，但他仍竭尽全力颤抖着写下了歪歪斜斜的“爸爸”二字。
姐妹俩现在与祖父母住在一起，她们小心翼翼地把每张卡片放进盒子里，储存下来。她俩各有一本“我和妈妈”、“我和爸爸”的相册，这样，她们可以随时拿出来看，回忆父母的点点滴滴，重温昔日家庭生活的温馨。
黛布尔留下的卡片里，有帮助女儿成长的实践性建议，饱含了一个母亲对女儿最深沉的爱。读到那些话语，姐妹俩就感觉母亲依然和她们在一起。
她们经常想起卡片上母亲的话，“希望你们知道自己永远是珍贵的，我永远深爱着你们……”
在写给夏洛特的卡片上，谈到了她的成长，关于一个女孩成为年轻女人的转变。黛布尔接着写道：“祝你十一岁生日快乐，记住，爸爸妈妈永远和你在一起。”
姐妹俩都给父母回信。夏洛特告诉他们，她怎么玩保龄球，还有去伦敦动物园游玩的情形。凯特曾写道，她永远忘不了爸爸，“我知道他仍然和我们在一起。”
谈到女性问题，黛布尔说道：“我还记得自己当时的困惑，要记住，每一个10至14岁的女孩都会经历这些变化，所以，不要害怕，也不要惊慌。”
夏洛特放下卡片，“很多时候，我真的想问妈妈一些问题，”她说，“比如关于生活中的问题，或者学习上的困难等等。”
但是，她知道还会有更多的卡片寄过来，只是不知道什么时候或者还有多少。然而，黛布尔给孩子们留下的遗产，价值远远超过遗嘱的分量。“一份礼物不能表尽内心的想法，”夏洛特说，“但是，一张卡片却能。”
接着她读出母亲留给她的话，这些话语，比任何东西都更富感染力，更能引起共鸣，“你是一个了不起的女孩，记住妈妈和爸爸对你们说过的话。你们姐妹俩要互相照顾，妈妈永远深爱着你们。”
■心灵小语
母爱是世界上最伟大、最无私的爱。虽然疾病夺走了这位母亲的生命，不能够继续陪伴孩子们成长。然而，没有什么能够阻止爱的延续，母亲从天堂寄来的信，就像是一盏明灯，永远指引着孩子们前行的道路。
Letters from Heaven
Anonymous
Charlotte and Katie’s parents died within months of each other... but every birthday the sisters receive cards from their mother with almost unbearably touching words of guidance.
There is just a small pile of no more than half a dozen cards and a couple of labels from Christmas and birthday presents. But Charlotte Matalon produces each of the items from her Special Box, which she keeps beside her bed, as if they are priceless jewels.
She looks at the card dated October 1996. “My darling Charlotte,” she reads, barely needing to look since she knows it by heart. “I am writing this card because I have recently found out that sadly I will not be with you on your 10th birthday...”
Six weeks after writing this tragic message, Debra Matalon, Charlotte’s mother died from breast cancer. She was just 35, but she has provided a unique legacy1.
Before she died, Debra wrote a birthday card to each of her two daughters, Charlotte, now 11, and 10yearold Katie, for them to open every birthday. It is this gesture which has helped the girls come to terms with their terrible grief.
So far they have each received two messages from their mother. There are also a couple more cards in their sad little boxes. These are from their father Alan, sent while he, too, was in hospital, his body consumed by nonHodgkin’s lymphoma2. Too weak to write, he just managed to gather the strength to sign a faltering “Daddy”.
The girls, who now live with their grandparents, carefully store the cards back in their boxes and put them away. They each have My Mummy & Me and My Daddy & Me photo albums, which they scan while trying to grasp any fresh insight into their parents, or recall the lives they had as a family.
The cards Debra has left them contain a mixture of practical3 advice for growing girls and simple statements of a mother’s love for her children. Reading those words, the sisters feel, was to discover, that their mother seems to be still with them.
Both often think of what their mother has said in her card , “I want you to know that you have always been very special and I have and always will love you dearly...”
After writing to Charlotte about growing up and the change from being a girl to a young woman, Debra adds, “Please have fun on your 11th birthday and remember Mummy and Daddy are always with you.”
Both girls have written letters to their parents in reply. Charlotte has told. them about how she went bowling and about a trip to London Zoo. Katie has written how she will never forget her Daddy, “I know he’s still with me.”
Writing about womanhood, Debra said, “I remember how embarrassed I was at the time, just remember that every single 10 to 14yearold has gone through these changes, so don’t be afraid and don’t be embarrassed.”
Charlotte puts the card down. “There are times when I’d like to be able to ask Mummy things,” She says, “just things about life and what to do in a difficult situation at school or whatever.”
But she knows there are more cards to come. She doesn’t know when or how many, but Debra has given a far greater legacy than her will could ever provide. “A present doesn’t say what you think, ”Charlotte says, “but a card does.”
And then she reads the words that echo4 more powerfully than any. “You are a wonderful girl and remember what Mummy and Daddy have taught you. Look after one another. Lots of love, as always, Mummy.”
与奶奶共舞
佚名
与妻子玛莎举行婚礼的那天，是我一生中最美好的一天。
那时的我们,年轻而有活力，皮肤晒成深褐色，看上去很精神。那天,摄影师拍下的都是我们微笑、拥抱和亲吻的镜头。我们是最幸福的主人，一点儿也不怪异，也毫无倦怠的神情。我们就像结婚蛋糕上的那对小瓷人一样幸福而无忧无虑。
婚礼进行时，大家拍照，切蛋糕，扔袜带，掷花束，玩得不亦乐乎。这时，奶奶轻轻地拍拍我的肩头，在一阵欢快的祝福声中，我把她揽入怀中，她在我耳边说道：“亲爱的，和我跳支舞,好吗？”
“当然可以了，奶奶。”我真诚地微笑着回答她，不巧，这时从外地赶来一些客人，我不得不过去迎候他们。一小时后，奶奶又向我发出了邀请。我同样微笑着答应了，并伸手做出邀舞的姿势。这时过来一些大学同学，把一杯鲜啤酒放到我手中，并把我拽走，要在新婚之夜前给我些建议。
最终，奶奶不得不放弃。
在频繁的拥抱、亲吻和推杯换盏的欢愉之后，我与妻子开始了蜜月之旅。我们乘船在迈阿密游览了一周,但这期间一种莫名的不安一直烦扰着我。
最终我们回到了新家，摄影师在电话留言里告诉我们，婚礼照片已经都冲洗好了。我们顾不上收拾行李，迈着疲倦的步伐去取照片。几个小时后，我们仔细看了所有的照片，婚礼的热闹场面不时地浮现在眼前，我手拿其中一张照片，不禁陷入了沉思。
照片上的两位客人欢快地跳着舞，他们汗涔涔的，一副笑逐颜开的样子。但我关注的不是这对开怀大笑的客人，而是背景处的奶奶。
我注意到她身着蓝色晚装，佩戴着简单的珍珠饰物。我知道，她的新发型是专门为那天设计的，尽管收入有限。我看到了她那双有些破损的鞋子和抽了丝的袜子，还有那双倦怠的手，紧握着一块旧手帕。
这张照片上的奶奶在流泪。我知道那并非喜悦的泪水。那便是我蜜月不安的根源所在——没能和奶奶跳舞。
我吻了一下妻子的脸颊，开车到了几英里外奶奶的小寓所。我敲了门，看到了奶奶，她的新发型依然漂亮，但是褪了色的便装却取代了那身体面的蓝色礼服。
奶奶无力地微笑着迎接我，用虚弱的双臂拥抱着我。我知道她一定很想知道我和妻子度蜜月的事。而我所能做的只是表达无尽的歉意。
“对不起，我没能和您跳舞，奶奶，”我非常诚恳地向奶奶道歉，挨着她坐在旧沙发上。“那是一个极特殊的日子，只因没能陪您跳舞，而不那么完美。”
奶奶望着我的眼睛，她的话让我难以忘却：“不要说傻话了，亲爱的。在我的一生中，你已经和我这个老太婆跳了很多支舞了。还记得你小时候在这儿度过的那些周六的夜晚吗？我放劳伦斯•威尔克的音乐，你便踏着我的毛绒拖鞋跳个不停，还大笑不止。不知其他的奶奶们是否有这样美好的回忆呢。我想我是幸运的。
“当你身为完美的主人，给所有的客人带来快乐时，我在旁边看着，心里有的只是骄傲。婚礼就是这样，有新有旧，有得有失。
“噢，你想，我这样一位老太太，穿着蓝色的礼服，看着你与漂亮的新娘共舞，我知道我该放手了，因为我已经拥有多年了，你只不过是我借来的，一旦你找到了理想的伴侣，我就得让出来——现在你们彼此拥有对方，能够互相照顾，我可以安度晚年，不必再为你牵肠挂肚了。”
那天我和奶奶都流了许多幸福的泪水。
正是那天，奶奶让我体会到了既为儿孙又为人夫的意义。接受了那个教训后，我邀请奶奶跳了一支新婚舞曲。
她没像我一样拒绝……
■心灵小语
有些感情是默默付出而不善于被表达出来的，但是这种感情比表露出来的更加深沉。文中的奶奶很爱自己的孙子，但也懂得放手，让他去追求属于自己的幸福。这种亲情是不会因距离而减弱的，反而会因为爱与理解而成为生活中的一种默契。
Dancing with Nonny
Anonymous
When I married my wife Martha, it was the most beautiful day of my life.
We were young and healthy, tanned and handsome. Every picture taken that day showed us smiling, hugging, and kissing. We were the perfect hosts, never cranky or tired. We were as happy and carefree as the porcelain couple on our towering wedding cake.
Halfway through the reception, in between the pictures and the cake and the garter and the bouquet, my grandmother tapped me gently on the shoulder. I hugged her in a flurry of other wellwishers and barely heard her whisper, “Will you dance with me, sweetheart？”
“Sure, Nonny,” I said, smiling and with the best of intentions, even as some outof town guests pulled me off in their direction. An hour later my grandmother tried again. And again I readily agreed, smiling and reaching for her with an outstretched hand but letting some old college buddies place a fresh beer there instead, just before dragging me off for some lastminute wedding night advice！
Finally, my grandmother gave up.
There were kisses and hugs and rice and tin cans and then my wife and I were off on our honeymoon. A nagging concern grew in the back of my mind as we wined and dined our way down to Miami for a weeklong cruise and then back again when it was over.
When we finally returned to our new home, a phone message told us our pictures were waiting at the photographer’s. We unpacked slowly and then moseyed on down to pick them up. Hours later, after we had examined every one with fond memories, I held one out to reflect upon in private.
It was a picture of two happy guests, sweaty and rowdy in their dancing. But it wasn’t the grinning couple I was focusing on. There, in the background, was my grandmother, Nonny.
I had spotted her blue dress right away. Her simple pearls. The brand new hairdo I knew she’d gotten special for that day, even though she was on a fixed income. I saw her scuffed shoes and a run in her stocking and her tired hands clutching at a wellused handkerchief.
In the picture, my grandmother was crying. And I didn’t think they were tears of joy. The nagging concern that had niggled at me the entire honeymoon finally solidified—I had never danced with my grandmother.
I kissed my wife on the cheek and drove to my grandmother’s tiny apartment a few miles away. I knocked on the door and saw that her new perm was still fresh and tight, but her tidy blue dress had been replaced with her usual faded house dress.
A feeble smile greeted me, weak arms wrapped around me and, naturally, Nonny wanted to know all about our honeymoon. Instead, all I could do was apologize.
“I’m sorry, I never danced with you, Nonny,” I said honestly, sitting next to her on the threadbare couch, “it was a very special day and that was the only thing missing for making it perfect.”
Nonny looked at me in the eye and said something I’ll never forget,“Nonsense, dear. You’ve danced enough with this old broad in her lifetime. Remember all those Saturday nights you spent here when you were a little boy？ I’d put the Lawrence Welk Show on and you’d dance on top of my fuzzy slippers and laugh the whole time. Why, I don’t know any other grandmother who has memories like that. I’m a lucky woman.
“And while you were being the perfect host and making all of your guests feel so special, I sat back and watched you and felt nothing but pride. That’s what a wedding is, honey. Something old, something new. Something borrowed, something blue.
“Well, this old woman, who was wearing blue, watched you dance with your beautiful new bride, and I knew I had to give you up, because I had you so many years to myself, but I could only borrow you until you found the woman of your dream—and now you have each other and I can rest easy in the knowledge that you’re happy.”
Both of our tears covered her couch that day.
That was the day Nonny taught me what it meant to be a grandson, as well as a husband.
And after my lesson, I asked Nonny for that wedding dancing.
Unlike me, she didn’t refuse…
魔枕
佚名
情人节到了，与往常一样，我的日程表安排得满满的。
我的丈夫罗伊是一个很浪漫的人，他策划了一个我们从未经历过的约会，在一家高档餐馆订了位子；爱意浓浓的日子到来的前几天，他还把一份包装精美的礼品放到了我的梳妆台上。
一天繁忙的工作结束后，我匆匆赶回家，一头扎进浴室。等老公回来时，我已把最漂亮的衣服穿好，只等出发了。他拥抱了我，这时来照看孩子的人也刚好到。我们俩都非常高兴。
遗憾的是，我们家里最小的成员却不高兴。
“爸爸，你不是说要带我去给妈妈买礼物的吗？”8岁的女儿贝姬边说边沮丧地朝沙发走去，坐在那位临时来照顾她的女士身边。
罗伊看了一下手表，他知道如果我们想按时到达预订的餐馆，必须马上动身。他甚至都抽不出几分钟时间带女儿到街角的小店买盒鸡心形巧克力。
“对不起，今天回来晚，没时间了，宝贝。”他说。
“没关系，”贝姬回答，“我知道。”
这是一个甜蜜的夜晚，却也有几分苦涩。我总会情不自禁地想起贝姬流露出的失望眼神，想起房门在我们身后关闭的那一刹那，贝姬原本因情人节而兴奋的小脸蛋上的光芒一下子消失的情形。她想让我知道她有多爱我。或许她并没有意识到，我心里已经很清楚了。
如今，那个漂亮的盒子里装了什么礼物我已不记得，虽然我因它兴奋了好几天，但那晚回到家时收到的另一份特殊礼物，却令我永生难忘。
贝姬在沙发上睡着了，手里还拿着一个盒子，放在她的小腿上。我吻了吻她的脸颊，她醒了。“妈妈，我要给您一样东西。”说着，小脸蛋堆满了灿烂的笑容。
小盒子用报纸包着。我撕开报纸，打开盒子，看到了我收到过的一份最甜美的情人节礼物。
在我和丈夫离开家去约会后，贝姬便忙开了。她把我的织品和十字绣盒子都翻出来，先在一块红布上绣好“我爱你”三个字，然后把布料剪成心形，再把剪下来的两块布缝合到一起，缀上一圈花边，最后在往里面塞满棉花。一个心形的枕头做成了。这个枕头倾注了她多少的爱啊！我会永远珍爱它。
大约13年过去了，那件珍贵的情人节礼物依然放在我卧室的一个特殊位置。女儿已经长大成人，这期间我无数次将枕头紧紧贴在心窝。我不知道这个枕头是否藏有许多魔力，但我肯定，这么多年来它给我带来了无尽的喜悦。女儿离开我进入大学时，它伴我度过无数个不眠之夜。我珍爱这份礼物，更珍爱这美好的记忆。
我知道自己确实是位幸运的母亲，有这么一个值得称道的可爱女儿，她是那么渴望与我分享她心中的爱！在我有生之年，对我来说，应该不会再有比这更特殊的情人节了。
■心灵小语
亲情是平淡而温暖的，亲情相伴的每一个日子都是如此踏实快乐。请珍惜身边的亲人，去关爱他们，与他们分享幸福。
Magic Pillow
Anonymous
Valentine’s Day had arrived and like other day of the year, I was very busy.
My romantic1 husband, Roy, planned a date like we had never had before. A reservation at an expensive restaurant was made. A beautifully wrapped present had been sitting on my dresser for a few days prior to the heartfilled holiday.
After a hard day at work, I hurried home, ran into the house and jumped into the shower. When my sweetheart arrived, I was dressed in my finest outfit and ready to go. He hugged me, just as the sitter arrived. We were both excited.
Unfortunately, the littlest member in our household wasn’t so happy.
“Daddy, you were going to take me to buy Mamma a present,” Becky, my eightyearold daughter said, as she sadly walked over to the couch2 and sat down beside the babysitter.
Roy looked at his watch and realized that if we were to make our reservations, we had to leave right away. He didn’t even have a few minutes to take her to the corner drugstore, to buy a heartshaped box of chocolate candy.
“I’m sorry, I was late getting home, honey,” he said.
“That’s ok,” Becky replied. “I understand.”
The entire evening was bittersweet. I couldn’t help being concerned about the disappointment in Becky’s eyes. I remembered how the joyful Valentine’s Day glow had left her face, just before the door closed behind us. She wanted me to know how much she loved me. She didn’t realize it, but I already knew it very well.
Today, I can’t remember what was wrapped in that beautiful box, which I swooned3 over for several days, but I’ll never forget the special gift, which I received when we arrived, back home.
Becky was asleep on the couch, clutching a box, which was sitting on her lap. When I kissed her cheek, she awoke. “I’ve got something for you, Mamma,” she said, as a giant smile covered her tiny face.
The little box was wrapped in newspaper. As I tore the paper off and opened the box, I found the sweetest Valentine gift that I have ever received.
After Roy and I left for our date, Becky got busy. She raided my fabric and crossstitch box. She stitched the words “I Love Ya” on a piece of red fabric, cut the fabric in the shape of a heart, stitched the two pieces together, adorned4 it with lace and stuffed it with cotton. It was a heartshaped pillow, filled with love, which I’ll cherish forever.
My wonderful Valentine gift has a special place in my bedroom today, some thirteen years later. As she was growing up into a young woman, many times I held that pillow close to my heart. I don’t know if a pillow can hold magic, but this pillow has surely held a great deal of joy for me over the years. It has helped me through several sleepless nights since she left home for college. I not only cherish the gift, but the memory, as well.
I know that I am a very lucky mother, indeed, to have such a wonderful little girl, who wanted so desperately5 to share her heart with me. As long as I live, there will never be another Valentine’s Day, which will be any more special to me.
第四卷微笑的世界
World of Smiles
永远不要低估你行为的力量。你不经意间的一个小举动也许就会改变一个人的命运。无论福祸，上帝让我们介入彼此的生活以某种方式影响着对方。从他人身上去寻找上帝的影子。正如你所知的：“当我们的翅膀受伤时，朋友就是天使，会将我们扶起，让我们想起如何飞翔。”
金光小屋
佚名
山坡上有一所简陋的小房子，里面住着一个小女孩。小时候，她经常在房前的小花园里玩，隔着篱笆，她能看见山谷那边高高的山坡上坐落着一栋漂亮的房子——有着闪闪发光的金色窗子，小女孩梦想将来长大后也能住进有着金色窗子的屋子里，而不再住这么简陋的房子。
虽然小女孩爱她的父母和她的家，但还是渴望拥有那样一栋金灿灿的房子，每天都梦想着住在那里，会是多么美好和新奇。
她长大了，拥有了能够走出花园篱笆的技能和判断力，走出花园篱笆时，她问母亲能否让她沿小路多骑一会儿车。在女儿的再三恳求下，母亲终于同意了，但只允许她在家附近转转，坚决不准她绕得太远。那天天气非常好，小姑娘直奔目的地！沿着小路，穿过山谷，来到了向往已久的金色小屋。
她跳下车子，把它放在门前的柱子旁，注意力集中在通往房子的小路上，目光沿小路继续向前，最终落到小房子上……失望顿时袭上心头，因为她所看到的窗子都是那么普通，而且脏兮兮的，根本就不发光，俨然一座废弃的房子。
她非常伤心，不愿再前进一步，便转过身去骑自行车……不经意间，她抬头瞥见了一幅令她吃惊的景象……在山谷的那边也有一座小房子——它的窗子也是金光闪闪的……是她那普通的小屋在太阳的照耀下闪着金光呢。
她猛然意识到，原来自己一直住在金色的房子里，在那里她得到了所有的爱，这使她的家成了“金光小屋”。一切她所梦想的原来就在眼前！
The House with the Golden Windows
Anonymous
The little girl lived in a small, very simple, poor house on a hill and as she grew she would play in the small garden and as she grew she was able to see over the garden fence and across the valley to a wonderful house high on the hill—and this house had golden windows, so golden and shining that the little girl would dream of how magic it would be to grow up and live in a house with golden windows instead of an ordinary house like hers.
And although she loved her parents and her family, she yearned to live in such a golden house and dreamed all day about how wonderful and exciting it must feel to live there.
When she got to an age where she gained enough skill and sensibility to go outside her garden fence, she asked her mother if she could go for a bike ride outside the gate and down the lane. After pleading with her, her mother finally allowed her to go, insisting that she kept close to the house and didn’t wander too far. The day was beautiful and the little girl knew exactly where she was heading！ Down the lane and across the valley, she rode her bike until she got to the gate of the golden house across on the other hill.
As she dismounted her bike and leaned it against the gate post, she focused on the path that led to the house and then on the house itself...and was so disappointed as she realized all the windows were plain and rather dirty, reflecting nothing other than the sad neglect of the house that stood derelictly.
So sad she didn’t go any further and turned, heart broken as she remounted her bike... As she glanced up she saw a sight to amaze her... there across the way on her side of the valley was a little house and its windows glistened golden... as the sun shone on her little home.
She realized that she had been living in her golden house and all the love and care she found there was what made her home the “golden house.” Everything she dreamed was right there in front of her nose！
埃玛的鸭子们
保罗.卡勒
1966年，冬天以迅猛之势袭击了我们位于纽约北部的大学，这是几十年来从未见过的。接连三天，暴风雪盘旋翻腾，将整个校园困在大雪之中，阻断了与外界的联系。校园里，到处是迷了路的学生，他们排成一队与恶劣的天气抗争着，就像躲在妈妈身后的小鸭子横过马路一样。与全校师生一样，B寝室的女生们也遇到了同样的问题。
一个女生问道：“我们怎样才能到自助食堂呢？”
另一个女生答道：“我们不要去了。外面白茫茫的一片，什么也看不见。”
第三个女生的眼睛一亮，“嘘”了一声，室内的抱怨声便停止了。然后，她兴奋地说道：“埃玛能够看得见。”
抱怨声消失了，接着是一阵兴奋的低语声。“埃玛！她甚至能够在整个大学城穿梭。”“我们可以跟着她走。”“你真是一个天才呀！”女生们非常高兴，她们笑语欢声，鼓起掌来。女生们穿戴好，一群人激动地朝埃玛的房间走去。她们在楼道中发现了埃玛，在她打开寝室的门之前，这群女生就把她围了起来。
埃玛笑着问：“你们为什么都这么兴奋？”
“我们能不能跟着你去自助食堂？我们在暴风雪中什么都看不到。”
“我认为可以。我先走，你们排成一列搭着肩膀跟在我后面。”
一个女生恳求道：“我们现在可以出发了吗？我饿坏了。”
埃玛又笑了，说道：“没问题，我们带上密斯一起去。”
她进了寝室，过了一会儿，牵出一条狗。这群女生在门口乖乖地排起了一列长队，准备迎战外面的寒冷。每个人都把手放在了前面女生的肩膀上。
埃玛打开了大门，把大家领了出来。她笑着说：“我猜，你们可以把这个称为盲人给正常人引路。”
说完，埃玛和导盲犬密斯带领着这群饥饿的鸭子朝自助食堂走去。
Emma’s Ducks
Paul Karrer
The winter of 1966 hit our university in upstate New York with a ferocity1 unrivaled in decades. For three days straight, the snow swirled2 and billowed3, burying the isolated campus. Here and there strayed groups of students struggling single file against the weather, like ducklings following their mother across a road. The female students in dormitory B were confronted with4 the same problem plaguing the general population of the university.
“How are we going to get to the cafeteria？” asked one.
“We’re not,” answered another.“Everything out there is white. You can’t see anything.”
A gleam came into the eye of the third girl. She shushed the others’ whining, saying triumphantly5, “Emma could do it.”
The whining turned to murmrs of excitement.“Emma！”“She even manages through the city.” “We could follow her.” “You’re a genius！”
The girls whooped, yelled and clapped for joy. They bundled up6 and excitedly trooped down the hall to Emma’s room. They found her in the hallway and cornered her before she could even open her door.
“What’s all the excitement？” she asked, smiling.
“Can we follow you to the cafeteria？ We’re blind in this storm.”
They all laughed.
“I suppose so. I’ll go first, and you could hold on to each other’s shoulders.”
“Can we go now？” one girl begged. “I’m starving.”
Emma smiled again. “Sure, let me just get Missy ready.”
She went into her room and returned moments later with a dog on a harness. The girls lined up obediently7 at the front door, ready to face the cold. They each placed their hands on the shoulders of the girl in front of them.
Emma opened the door to lead them out. “I guess,” she smiled. “you could call this the blind leading the seeing.”
And with that, Emma and her seeingeye dog, Missy, led her troop of hungry ducks to the cafeteria.
美丽英文—故事篇(12)
搅水男孩
佚名
生活中往往有一些小事对我们的影响反而更为深远。小事也能转变我们的人生观，改变我们做决定的方式，并能在脑海中留下难以磨灭的印迹。
九月中旬的一个傍晚，我三岁的儿子正在婴儿床上小睡，而我整个下午都在收拾威斯康星州的新家。那天虽然下着毛毛雨，但并不冷。
我在客厅内整理玩具和毯子时，无意中从二楼阳台的窗户向外瞥了一眼，发现地上都是水坑，雨也小了。
楼下的草坪与公路交接处有一个大水坑，旁边站着一个四岁左右的男孩。他穿着T恤衫和短裤，脚下是一双红色的橡胶雨鞋。他兴奋地在水坑里踩来踩去，泥水飞溅。他来回走着，踩着，开心地享受着大自然母亲的恩赐。
他的母亲站在离他不到四英尺远的地方，看着儿子探索这个世界，看着飞溅起的水滴落在儿子头上、衣服上和身上。他满身泥浆，她却只是仍然站在那儿看，还面带微笑。在一个不留心观察的路人眼中，他们只不过是在消磨时间。但以我初为人母的喜悦和经验所孕育出的敏感来看，这是一个感人时刻，自此它将改变我对身为人母的理解。
生活中一个小小瞬间，让我驻足思索：小事也意义非凡。小男孩长大后，或许不会记得，妈妈每天下午都带他出门，让他在水坑里踩来踩去，让他停下来摸摸小虫子。也或许不会记得，每天，妈妈都让他探寻这个世界。但他不会忘记，妈妈爱他。他知道，妈妈给他营造了一个舒适且充满乐趣的环境供他学习和成长。
或许，在无忧无虑的童年，我们可以学到：不要把暴风雨看做避之唯恐不及的事情，而应陶醉其中，去研究探索，享受品味。或许，我们应常停下来，在雨中嬉闹。或许，随着为人母的经验的积累，我也会懂得更多，看问题的方式也将有所改变。但有一点，我确信——等儿子一学会走路，我就给他买双橡胶雨鞋。
Raindrops and Rubber Boots
Anonymous
It’s often the simple things in life that make the most significant impact on us. Simple things that change our view of life, change the way we make decisions, leave lasting memories in our minds.
It was late one afternoon in midSeptember. My then threemonthold son was napping in his crib and I was spending the afternoon getting settled into our new home in Wisconsin. It was a rainy day. Not cold, but a steady drizzle had been falling all morning and into the afternoon.
As I wandered through our living room, picking up toys and blankets, I happened to glance out my second story balcony window. Puddles had formed on the ground and the rain had slowed.
Down below, where the grass met the pavement and a large puddle had formed, stood a boy of about four. He wore a Tshirt and a pair of shorts and up to his knees he sported a pair of red, rubber boots. Filled with a mixture of fascination1 and glee, he stomped2 through the puddle, mud and water flying. Over and over he walked, stomped, splashed3 through that puddle, happily enjoying what Mother Nature had left for him.
Not more than four feet away stood his mother, watching as her son explored his world. She watched as water droplets, airborne because of his stomping, landed on the boy’s head, clothes and body. Mud flecks flew all around him and still she stood and watched with a pleasant smile on her face. To an unnoticing passerby it was just two people going about their day. But from my new found sensitivity to the joys and experiences of motherhood, it was a touching moment that altered the way I will forever view my role as a mother.
A simple moment in my life made me stop and realize just how important the simple things really are. As the little boy in the rubber boots grows up, he probably will not remember each afternoon that his mother took him outside and let him stomp in the puddles or each bug that she let him stop to touch. He may not remember each little thing that his mother does for him everyday — each time she lets him explore his world. But he will remember that his mother loved him and he will know that she helped him to learn and grow in a pleasant and fun environment.
Maybe we can all learn from the innocence4 of childhood that views a rainstorm not as something to run through or to avoid, but something meant to fascinate, to explore and to enjoy. Maybe we should all stop to play in the rain more often. Maybe I will learn more and my views will change as my experience of motherhood grows and evolves5. But one thing I know for sure. As soon as my son can walk, I am buying him a pair of rubber boots.
微笑的世界
佚名
大约10年前，当我还是个在校大学生时，我在学校的自然历史博物馆做实习生。一天，当我正在礼品店的收银台工作时，看到一对老夫妇推着一位坐在轮椅上的小姑娘走进店里。
近看时，我看到她完全是“栖息”在椅子上的。后来我意识到，她没有手臂和双腿，只有头部、颈部和躯干。她穿着一件有红色圆点点缀的白色连衣裙。
当那对夫妇推着她朝我走来时，我正低头看着收银机。我把头转向那个女孩，朝她眨了眨眼。当接过老夫妇的钱时，我回头看了看那个小姑娘，她正朝我微笑，那是我有生以来见到的最可爱、最灿烂的微笑。突然间，她身上的所有缺陷都消失了，我看到的是一个美丽的小女孩。她的微笑感染了我，几乎立即给了我一种全新的关于生命的感觉。她让我这个贫穷、苦闷的大学生进入到她的世界——一个充满微笑、爱和温暖的世界。
那天的事一转眼已过去10年了。如今我已是一位成功的商人。只要我变得沮丧，想到世间的烦恼，我就会想起那个小姑娘，还有她教给我的那一节关于人生的非凡课程。
■心灵小语
微笑能够使陌生的人变得熟悉起来，能够化解冷漠。你无需花一分钱，就可以绽开笑脸，给自己带来幸福的同时，也为别人送去快乐。不要做一个吝啬的人，让自己的生活多一些微笑。
World of Smiles
Anonymous
About ten years ago when I was an undergraduate in college, I was working as an intern at my University’s Museum of Natural History. One day while working at the cash register in the gift shop, I saw an elderly couple come in with a little girl in a wheelchair1.
As I looked closer at this girl, I saw that she was kind of perched on her chair. I then realized she had no arms or legs, just a head, neck and torso2. She was wearing a little white dress with red polka dots.
As the couple wheeled her up to me I was looking down at the register. I turned my head toward the girl and gave her a wink. As I took the money from her grandparents, I looked back at the girl, who was giving me the cutest, largest smile I have ever seen. All of a sudden her handicap was gone and all I saw was this beautiful girl, whose smile just melted me and almost instantly gave me a completely new sense of what life was all about. She took me from a poor, unhappy college student and brought me into her world: a world of smiles, love and warmth.
That was ten years ago. I’m a successful business person now. And whenever I get down and think about the troubles of the world, I think about that little girl and the remarkable3 lesson about life that she taught me.
友谊的故事
佚名
上高一时，有一天，在放学路上我看到了同班的一个男孩——凯尔。他好像把所有的书都拿上了，我心想：谁会在周末把书都带回家啊？他一定是个书呆子。我的周末已经有了安排（明天下午和朋友去踢足球，参加聚会），因此我耸耸肩，继续往前走。
正走着，我看到一帮孩子朝他跑去。他们冲过去撞掉他怀中的书，并将他绊倒在泥里。他的眼镜飞了出去，落在离他约10英尺的草地上。他扬起脸朝上看时，我看到了他眼中的悲哀。我有些同情他，于是慢慢走到他身边，当他趴着找眼镜时，我看到了他眼中含着的泪水。我把眼镜递给他，说：“他们简直无聊透顶，真应该受到惩罚。”他看着我说：“嗨，谢谢！”他的脸上带着灿烂的笑容，那笑容代表着真正的感激之情。
我帮他捡起书，问他住在哪里。原来他和我住得很近，于是我便问为什么从未见过他。他说他以前在一家私立学校上学。在此之前，我从不和私立学校的孩子打交道。我帮他抱着一些书，和他聊了一路。他挺帅，挺酷。我问他是否愿意和我们一起踢足球，他回答说好。于是我们度过了一个愉快的周末，而且对凯尔了解得越多，我就越喜欢他，我的朋友们也有同感。
周一早上，凯尔又抱了一大堆书。我拦住他，说：“好家伙，你真要每天抱着这些书锻炼肌肉啊！”他只是微微一笑，把半摞书递给我。接下来的四年中，我们成了最好的朋友。临近毕业时，我们开始考虑上大学的事。凯尔决定上乔治敦大学，而我准备去杜克大学。我知道距离不是问题，我们永远都是朋友。他想当一名医生，而我获得了橄榄球奖学金，准备去学商务。
凯尔将代表我们班致告别辞。我一直取笑他是个书呆子。他得为毕业典礼准备演讲稿，而我也很高兴不用自己去演讲。毕业那天，我看到了凯尔，他简直帅呆了。在高中，他简直如鱼得水。他长大了，戴着眼镜的样子看起来很棒。他的约会比我还多，所有女孩都喜欢他。天啊，有时我真嫉妒他，今天就是。看得出他对演讲有些紧张，于是我拍拍他的背，说：“嗨，棒小伙，你会是最棒的！”他看着我笑了，神情中依然带着那种真诚的感激。“谢谢。”他说。
他准备演讲时，先清了清嗓子，然后开始了。“毕业之际，要感谢那些曾在我们艰难时伸出援手的人。他们是我们的父母、老师、兄弟姐妹，或者是某个辅导员，但大部分还是我们的朋友。在此，我想告诉在座的所有人，做某人真正的朋友是你所给予他的最好的礼物。我想给大家讲一个故事。”我难以置信地看着我的朋友，听他讲起我们初次认识的情形。他曾计划在那个周末自杀。他讲他如何清空锁柜，将所有的东西带回家，以便他妈妈将来不必再清理。他努力看着我，对我微微一笑。“令人感激的是，我得救了。我的朋友救了我，使我没做那种可怕的傻事。”
当这个帅气、受欢迎的男孩讲述了他最脆弱的时刻时，我听到人群中一片惊讶的声音。我看到他的父母在看我，并同样感激地对我微笑着。直到那一刻，我才真正意识到那个微笑的意义。永远不要低估你行为的力量。你不经意间的一个小举动也许就会改变一个人的命运。无论福祸，上帝让我们介入彼此的生活以某种方式影响着对方。从他人身上去寻找上帝的影子。正如你所知的：“当我们的翅膀受伤时，朋友就是天使，会将我们扶起，让我们想起如何飞翔。”
■心灵小语
生命是脆弱的，情感的力量是伟大的。每个人，无论你是智者还是拙人，你肯定拥有自己的独特之处，有自身的价值。永远也不要因为外界因素的评定而低估了自己。只要你有爱，只要你肯付出爱，你就会影响他人的生活。
A Story about Friendship
Anonymous
One day, when I was a freshman in high school, I saw a kid from my class walking home from school. His name was Kyle. It looked like he was carrying all of his books. I thought to myself, “Why would anyone bring home all his books on a Friday？ He must really be a nerd.” I had quite a weekend planned (parties and a football game with my friends tomorrow afternoon), so I shrugged my shoulders and went on.
As I was walking, I saw a bunch of kids running toward him. They ran at him, knocking all his books out of his arms and tripping him so he landed in the dirt. His glasses went flying, and I saw them land in the grass about ten feet from him. He looked up and I saw the terrible sadness in his eyes. My heart went out to him. So, I jogged over to him and as he crawled around looking for his glasses, I saw a tear in his eye. As I handed him his glasses, I said, “Those guys are jerks. They really should be punished.” He looked at me and said, “Hey, thanks！” There was a big smile on his face. It was one of those smiles that showed real gratitude.
I helped him pick up his books, and asked him where he lived. As it turned out, he lived near me, so I asked him why I had never seen him before. He said he had gone to private school before now. I would have never hung out with a private school kid before. We talked all the way home, and I carried some of his books. He turned out to be a pretty cool kid. I asked him if he wanted to play a little football with my friends. He said yes. We hung out all weekend and the more I got to know Kyle, the more I liked him, and my friends thought the same of him.
Monday morning came, and there was Kyle with the huge stack of books again. I stopped him and said, “Boy, you are gonna really build some serious muscles with this pile of books everyday！” He just laughed and handed me half the books. Over the next four years, Kyle and I became best friends. When we were seniors, we began to think about college. Kyle decided on Georgetown, and I was going to Duke. I knew that we would always be friends, that the miles would never be a problem. He was going to be a doctor, and I was going for business on a football scholarship.
Kyle was valedictorian of our class. I teased him all the time about being a nerd. He had to prepare a speech for graduation. I was so glad it wasn’t me having to get up there and speak. Graduation day, I saw Kyle. He looked great. He was one of those guys that really found himself during high school. He filled out and actually looked good in glasses. He had more dates than I had and all the girls loved him. Boy, sometimes I was jealous. Today was one of those days. I could see that he was nervous about his speech. So, I smacked him on the back and said,“Hey, big guy, you’ll be great！” He looked at me with one of those looks (the really grateful one) and smiled. “Thanks.” he said.
As he started his speech, he cleared his throat, and began. “Graduation is a time to thank those who helped you make it through those tough years. Our parents, our teachers, our siblings, maybe a coach but mostly our friends. I am here to tell all of you that being a friend to someone is the best gift you can give them. I am going to tell you a story.” I just looked at my friend with disbelief as he told the story of the first day we met. He had planned to kill himself over the weekend. He talked of how he had cleaned out his locker so his Mom wouldn’t have to do it later and was carrying his stuff home. He looked hard at me and gave me a little smile. “Thankfully, I was saved. My friend saved me from doing the unspeakable.”
I heard the gasp go through the crowd as this handsome, popular boy told us all about his weakest moment. I saw his Mom and Dad looking at me and smiling that same grateful smile. Not until that moment did I realize its depth. Never underestimate the power of your actions. With one small gesture you can change a person’s life. For better or for worse. God puts us all in each other’s lives to impact one another in some way. Look for God in others. As you can see, “Friends are angels who lift us to our feet when our wings have trouble remembering how to fly.”
另类英雄
托尼.卢纳
当古尔利克森博士正在为实验心理学课安排研究小组时，我默默地祈祷他能够把我与一个可爱的女生，至少是一个志趣相投的同学分在一组。总而言之，我希望他不要让我与一个具有强烈竞争意识、异常严肃的家伙做搭档，这种人个性十足，并且总爱穿着深颜色的衣服。经过一番深思熟虑之后，古尔利克森博士公布了分组决定，宣布我与一个我最想躲避的人成为一组，这就像命中注定似的。
我走到自己的实验搭档面前，作了自我介绍。他看着我的样子，仿佛我并不存在似的。我感觉到，他似乎认为我会阻碍他进步，并且很可能导致他的平均成绩直线下降。他并不完全怀有恶意,只是给了我这样的印象，无论什么实验，如果他独自去做就会做得更好。我的加入似乎只会妨碍他的研究，只能成为他不得不花时间和精力应付的麻烦，因为他是一个能够独立完成任务的人，他有重要的事情要做。
当然，我不想把整个学期都荒废掉，为了不让事情变得更加糟糕，我什么也没说，只是尽力把实验做好。根据计划，每个实验小组要提出假设、作实验检验假设、作统计学分析、介绍研究结果。小组所取得的成绩就是每个小组成员的成绩。我每次都忐忑不安地与同伴讨论实验的问题，他的专注和优秀的成绩是出了名的，他是一个勇于挑战的人。正相反，我与他相差甚远，事实上，我心里曾经闪现过逃课的念头，然而，我不想被他看扁，所以很快放弃了这种想法。我向那些忙于工作的朋友请教我该如何去做，他们的答复全部是，无论发生什么，你都要坚持到最后。
经过长时间讨论之后，我们终于达成一致，决定做一项关于空间触觉和动觉感知的研究。我们已经确定了题目，虽然我并不明白这是一项什么研究。为了制定计划，我们定期碰面，每次讨论决定之后，我都觉得是他制定了计划。我们碰面的次数越多，我对他的才智和直击问题核心的能力就越憎恨。我逐渐意识到，他的水平比我高很多。他很了解技术方面的知识，并且能够带着非常明确的目标去处理细节问题。
另一方面，我能提出的建议微乎其微，看起来似乎很幼稚。有一次，我鼓起勇气问他，他为什么那么紧张严肃。他回答我说，他没有闲聊的时间，对他来说，无聊的人和事情只是浪费时间，这令我感到惊讶。他甚至告诉我，那些所谓的朋友只会令人分心，因此，他没有结交很多朋友。不过，他补充说，一旦选择某人作为自己的朋友，他就会把他们当作一生的朋友。他的冷淡和愤世嫉俗，令我感到非常震惊。当时，我恨不得这个学期马上结束。
时光荏苒，我们尝试设计了一个非常出色的实验，而且实验操作也很简单。挑选志愿做实验对象的学生成为了我们工作的一部分，我决定致力于招募研究对象，他负责阐述科学方法。我抓住一切可能的机会陈述自己的意见，然而，我仍然有一种感觉：他才是整个实验的推动力量。
有一天，我得知他生病住进了医院。很显然，他是因为溃疡出血才住进医院的。他想取得最好的成绩，想找一份工作，想帮助生病的女朋友度过危险期，他背负的这些压力把他压垮了。
当去医院看望这个坚忍克己的实验伙伴时，我第一次发现，他脸上有了一种脆弱的表情。我知道，他是担心我会把实验搞砸，担心他非常高的总平均成绩会被小组实验成绩给毁掉，甚至会突然失掉进研究院的机会。我告诉他应该一心一意恢复健康，并保证我一定会付出最大的努力，不会让他失望的。我们都很清楚，我必须比最好做得还要好。
任务非常艰巨，我埋头整理统计资料，这些资料已经超出了我的理解范围。我有生以来所做的任何作业，都不曾付出这么多的时间和精力。我不能让他看到我失败，不愿意因为我而影响他的成绩。为了能够利用一切安静的时间进行研究，我把工作时间调整到夜里，从午夜一直干到凌晨六点。我被工作吸引住了，感觉自己全身心地投入到了一场挑战之中。仍然还有问题，我能解决吗？
在本学期即将结束的时候，各个小组终于要在所有组合小组前陈述自己的研究成果了。轮到我们组的时候，我使用自己的表演技巧阐述了他的科学方法，我竭尽了全力。我们得了“A”，这令我感到异常惊喜！
当我告诉实验伙伴，我们共同的努力取得了成功时，他笑着感谢我完成了实验。那一刻,某些东西将我们联系在了一起。这些特别的东西,与信赖有关,与分享获奖的喜悦有关。
这些年来，我们仍然保持着密切的关系。通过不断学习，他获得了博士学位，并与大学女友建立了家庭。
那个学期，我学到了更多的东西，而不仅仅是统计学分析和实验过程。他是我生活中的另类英雄，我的生活因他而面临挑战，因他而变得广阔。
事实证明，他是正确的，我们成了终生的朋友。
An Unlikely Hero
Tong Lu
When Dr. Gullickson was assigning project mates for his introduction to experimental psychology class, I secretly hoped he would pair me with a cute coed or at least a classmate I could have some fun with. Above all, I hoped he wouldn’t assign me to work with the intense, fiercely competitive, singularly serious fellow who always wore dark clothes and apparently had a personality to match. As fate would have it, Dr. Gullickson very deliberately matched everyone in class and announced that I would be working with the one person in class I wanted to avoid.
I went up to my new lab mate and introduced myself. He looked at me as though I weren’t there. I felt he treated me as though I would hold him back and probably cause his gradepoint average to take a nosedive1. He wasn’t outright mean or abusive2. He just gave me the impression he could do whatever project we dreamed up better if he did it alone. He was a loner, and I could only impede3 his research. He had important things to do, and I was going to be something of an annoyance he’d have to deal with.
Needless to say, I didn’t look forward to an entire semester of being brushed off, but I tried to make the best of it and didn’t say anything, lest I make things worse.
The project required each lab team to develop a hypothesis, set up an experiment to test the hypothesis, run the tests, do the statistical analysis and present the findings. Whatever grade the team received would be shared by both students. When my lab mate and I met to discuss our project, I was uneasy. Here was this challenging student who had a reputation for singlemindedness and good grades—the exact opposite of me. I was outmatched. I actually wanted to drop the class at one point, but stopped short because I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of my chickening out. I asked my friends at work what I should do, and the overall response was to stick it out no matter what.
After lengthy discussions, we somehow agreed to do a study on the tactilekinesthetic perception of space. I wasn’t sure what it meant, but at least we had a topic. We started to meet regularly to formulate4 our plans, and every time I felt the project was more his than mine. The more we met, the more I resented his intelligence and his ability to cut through to the core issues. And I was aware he was much more advanced than I. He knew technical things and approached every detail with great singularity of purpose.
I, on the other hand, must have seemed naive, with little to offer. At one point l summoned up my courage and asked him why he seemed so uptight and serious. To my surprise, he replied that he didn’t have time for small talk or petty people and things that would waste his time. He even went on to say that he didn’t have any friends because most socalled friends were just a distraction. But, he added, when he did choose someone to be his friend, they would be a friend for life. I was floored by his cold and cynical response. Right then and there, I realized the end of the semester couldn’t come soon enough.
As the semester wore on, we tried to fashion a simple yet elegant experiment. Part of our job was to ‘ students who had voluneered to be subjects for our project. I decided to devote5 myself to the task of working with the subjects, while he developed the scientific model. I put in my two cents’ worth whenever I could, but I still felt he was the driving force.
Then one day I got word that he was in the hospital. Apparently, he had been admitted for a hemorrhaging ulcer. The stress of getting the best grades, holding down a job and helping his girlfriend through the medical crisis she was going through had taken its toll on him.
When I visited him in the hospital, I noticed for the first time a sense of vulnerability on the face of my stoic lab mate. I knew that he was aware that I could blow the experiment, and our shared grade would shatter his lofty G. P. A. and possibly derail his chances for graduate school. I assured him I would not let him down and he should only concentrate on getting better. I would do my best. We both knew I’d have to do better than my best.
I had a formidable task ahead of me. I was in over my head, running the statistical data. I poured more time and energy into that project than I had ever done on any assignment in my life. I was not going to let him see me fail and have it reflect on him. I was working the graveyard shift at my job, so I used whatever quiet time from midnight to 6 A. M. to work on the project. The work consumed me. There was a sense of challenge that completely overtook me. The question remained: Was I up to it？
Eventually, the semester came to a close, and each team had to present its findings in front of the assembled class. When it was our turn, I did my level best to present his scientific methodology with my showmanship6. To my amazement, we were awarded an A！
When I told my lab mate about our shared triumph, he smiled and thanked me for carrying on. Something connected then. Something special. It had to do with trust and the exhilaration of sharing a common prize.
We have stayed close throughout the years. He went on to achieve a doctorate. He also went on to marry his college girlfriend.
I learned more than statistical analysis and experimental procedures that semester. My life has been enhanced by our encounter and challenged by this man, who became my unlikely hero.
And in the end, he was right: we have become friends for life.
朋友就该这么做
T.苏珊.埃勒
杰克把文件扔到我桌上，皱着眉头，气愤地瞪着我。
“怎么了？”我问道。
他指着计划书狠狠地说道：“下次想作什么改动前，先征求一下我的意见。”然后转身走了，留下我一个人在那里生闷气。
他怎么能这样对我！我想，我只是改了一个长句，更正了语法错误，但这都是我的分内之事啊。
其实也有人提醒过我，上一任在我这个职位上工作的女士就曾大骂过他。我第一天上班时，就有同事把我拉到一旁小声说：“已有两个秘书因为他而辞职了。”
几周后，我逐渐有些鄙视杰克了，而这又有悖于我的信条——别人打你左脸，右脸也转过去让他打；爱自己的敌人。但无论怎么做，总会挨杰克的骂。说真的，我很想灭灭他的嚣张气焰，而不是去爱他。我还为此默默祈祷过。
一天，因为一件事，我又被他气哭了。我冲进他的办公室，准备在被炒鱿鱼前让他知道我的感受。我推开门，杰克抬头看了我一眼。
“有事吗？”他突然说道。
我猛地意识到该怎么做了。毕竟，他罪有应得。
我在他对面坐下：“杰克，你对待我的方式很有问题。还从没有人像你那样对我说话。作为一个职业人士，你这么做很愚蠢，我无法容忍这样的事情再度发生。”
杰克不安地笑了笑，向后靠靠。我闭了一下眼睛，祈祷着，希望上帝能帮帮我。
“我保证，可以成为你的朋友。你是我的上司，我自然会尊敬你，礼貌待你，这是我应做的。每个人都应得到如此礼遇。”我说着便起身离开，把门关上了。
那个星期余下的几天，杰克一直躲着我。他总趁我吃午饭时，把计划书、技术说明和信件放在我桌上，并且，我修改过的文件不再被打回来。一天，我买了些饼干去办公室，顺便在杰克桌上留了一包。第二天，我又留了一张字条，在上面写道：“祝你今天一切顺利。”
接下来的几个星期，杰克不再躲避我了，但沉默了许多，办公室里再也没发生不愉快的事情。于是，同事们在休息室把我团团围了起来。
“听说杰克被你镇住了，”他们说，“你肯定大骂了他一顿。”我摇了摇头，一字一顿地说：“我们会成为朋友。”我根本不想提起杰克，每次在大厅看见他时，我总冲他微笑。毕竟，朋友就该这样。
一年后，我32岁，是三个漂亮孩子的母亲，但我被确诊为乳腺癌，这让我极端恐惧。癌细胞已经扩散到我的淋巴腺。从统计数据来看，我的时间不多了。手术后，我拜访了亲朋好友，他们尽量宽慰我，都不知道说些什么好，有些人反而说错了话，另外一些人则为我难过，还得我去安慰他们。我始终没有放弃希望。
就在我出院的前一天，我看到门外有个人影。是杰克，他尴尬地站在门口。我微笑着招呼他进来，他走到我床边，默默地把一包东西放在我旁边，那里边是几个球茎。
“这是郁金香。”他说。
我笑着，不明白他的用意。
他清了清嗓子，“回家后把它们种下，到明年春天就长出来了。”他挪挪脚，“我希望你知道，你一定看得到它们发芽开花。”
我泪眼朦胧地伸出手。
“谢谢你。”我低声说。
杰克抓住我的手，生硬地答道：“不必客气。到明年长出来后，你就能看到我为你挑的是什么颜色的郁金香了。”之后，他没说一句话便转身离开了。
转眼间，十多年过去了，每年春天，我都会看着这些红白相间的郁金香破土而出。事实上，今年九月，医生已宣布我痊愈了。我也看着孩子们高中毕业，进入大学。
在那绝望的时刻，我祈求他人的安慰，而这个男人寥寥数语，却情真意切，温暖着我脆弱的心。
毕竟，朋友之间就该这么做。
■心灵小语
成长中，每个人都在与形形色色的人打交道。有一种人，他们坦诚以待，相互鼓励，我们称之为朋友。
That’s What Friends Do
T. Suzanne Eller
Jack tossed the papers on my desk—his eyebrows knit into a straight line as he glared at me.
“What’s wrong？” I asked.
He jabbed a finger at the proposal. “Next time you want to change anything, ask me first,” he said, turning on his heels and leaving me stewing1 in anger.
How dare he treat me like that, I thought. I had changed one long sentence, and corrected grammar—something I thought I was paid to do.
It’s not that I hadn’t been warned. The other women, who had served in my place before me, called him names I couldn’t repeat. One coworker took me aside the first day. “He’s personally responsible for two different secretaries leaving the firm,” she whispered.
As the weeks went by, I grew to despise Jack. It was against everything I believed in—turn the other cheek and love your enemies. But Jack quickly slapped a verbal insult on any cheek turned his way. I prayed about it, but to be honest, I wanted to put him in his place, not love him.
One day, another of his episodes2 left me in tears. I stormed into his office, prepared to lose my job if needed, but not before I let the man know how I felt. I opened the door and Jack glanced up.
“What？” he said abruptly.
Suddenly I knew what I had to do. After all, he deserved it.
I sat across from him. “Jack, the way you’ve been treating me is wrong. I’ve never had anyone speak to me that way. As a professional, it’s wrong, and it’s wrong for me to allow it to continue,” I said.
Jack snickered3 nervously and leaned back in his chair. I closed my eyes briefly. God help me, I prayed.
“I want to make you a promise. I will be a friend,” I said. “I will treat you as you deserve to be treated, with respect and kindness. You deserve that,” I said. “Everybody does.” I slipped out of the chair and closed the door behind me.
Jack avoided me the rest of the week. Proposals, specs, and letters appeared on my desk while I was at lunch, and the corrected versions were not seen again. I brought cookies to the office one day and left a batch on Jack’s desk. Another day I left a note. “Hope your day is going great,” it read.
Over the next few weeks, Jack reappeared. He was reserved, but there were no other episodes. Coworkers cornered me in the break room.
“Guess you got to Jack,” they said. “You must have told him off4 good.” I shook my head. “Jack and I are becoming friends,” I said in faith. I refused to talk about him. Every time I saw Jack in the hall, I smiled at him. After all, that’s what friends do.
One year after our “talk,” I discovered I had breast cancer. I was 32, the mother of three beautiful young children, and scared. The cancer had metastasized5 to my lymph nodes and the statistics were not great for longterm survival. After surgery, I visited with friends and loved ones who tried to find the right words to say. No one knew what to say. Many said the wrong things. Others wept, and I tried to encourage them. I clung6 to hope.
The last day of my hospital stay, the door darkened and Jack stood awkwardly on the threshold. I waved him in with a smile and he walked over to my bed and, without a word, placed a bundle beside me. Inside lay several bulbs.
“Tulips,” he said.
I smiled, not understanding.
He cleared his throat, “If you plant them when you get home, they’ll come up next spring.” He shuffled his feet. “I just wanted you to know that I think you’ll be there to see them when they come up.”
Tears clouded my eyes and I reached out my hand.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Jack grasped my hand and gruffly7 replied,“You’re welcome. You can’t see it now, but next spring you’ll see the colors I picked out for you.” He turned and left without a word.
I have seen those red and white striped tulips push through the soil every spring for over ten years now. In fact, this September the doctor will declare me cured. I’ve seen my children graduate from high school and enter college.
In a moment when I prayed for just the right word, a man with very few words said all the right things.
After all, that’s what friends do.
你一定会有好运
佚名
八月一个闷热的下午，我实在是倒霉透顶：开始是机场安检时的一场闹剧，然后是抽样药检，最后因天气和机械故障造成航班误点。
在登机口的一片混乱中，我注意到一个五岁的小男孩，他站在他妈妈身边，盯着我。他的目光在我和我的包之间来回游移。
他小心地离开他妈妈，慢慢朝我走来，不时瞟一眼他妈妈的和我的包。待他靠近我时，我才奇怪地发现他不是冲我来的，而是冲着我的帽子。
我正打算告诉他别动我的东西，但某种因素阻止了我，我继续看着他。他在我的提包前停下来，盯着我的帽子，然后，抬起头来，看着我。
他睁着大大的眼睛，轻轻地抚摩我的帽檐，食指慢慢地移动，然后仔细地摸着徽章。
他又抬起头来看我，微笑着，一句话也不说。我问他是不是想戴上我的上尉军帽。他兴奋地点点头，仍然面带微笑。我把帽子放在他头顶上，但帽子很快滑到他耳朵下，他毫不在意，用两只小手把帽子举到合适的位置。跑过去给他妈妈看，又笑呵呵地跑回来。
带着无比的敬意，他以某种礼节的方式，两只手举着帽子递还给我，如同交还王冠。
我戴上帽子，递给他一张明信片，他仍然充满敬畏地用两只手捧着。
交换过后，他仍一言不发，我知道他很激动。他驱散了我心情的烦闷，我也因此感到很开心。
他两只手仍小心地托着明信片，抬起头来，看着我说，“先生，您一定会有好运的。”
“是的，”我说，“我会有好运的。”
我最后一个坐上返乡的飞机，在飞机上，我思考着这个五岁孩子的智慧。
You Sure Ａre Lucky
Anonymous
It was a hot, muggy August afternoon, and I had every reason to feel sorry for myself. A com edy of hassles began with the normal airport security gauntlet, followed by a random drug test, and a missed flight home due to a number of mechanical, weather problems.
During the usual pandemonium at the gate, I noticed a 5yearold boy standing by his mother and watching me. He looked at me, then my bag, then back at me.
Cautiously, he left his mother’s side and slowly began to walk toward me, glancing among my bag, his mother, and me. As he came closer, I was both relieved and alarmed that it wasn’t me he was after. It was my hat.
I started to tell him not to bother my things, but something made me stop and watch. He stopped in front of my bag, looking at my hat, then up at me.
With wide eyes, he gently touched the bill of my hat. Running his index finger slowly along the edge, carefully touching the emblem.
Again, he looked up at me, now smiling, but saying nothing. I asked him if he would like to wear my captain hat. He excitedly nodded his head, still smiling. I placed my hat on his head, but it fell down around his ears. He didn’t seem to mind and held it up in the proper position with both hands. He ran to show his mother, then back to me still smiling from ear to ear.
With much reverence and ceremony, he slowly removed my hat with both hands and presented it to me as though it were the crown jewels.
I put my hat on and gave him an airplane card. This, too, he held with both hands in awe.
After this exchange, he still hadn’t spoken, although I knew he was excited, I also was happy that I had been briefly distracted from my selfpity fester.
Still holding the card carefully with both hands, he looked up at me and said, “Mister, you sure are lucky,”
“Yes,” I said, “I sure am.”
I contemplated the wisdom of a 5yearold, as I got the last seat on that flight home
美丽英文—故事篇(13)
爱如断臂
佚名
“可要是我又把胳膊摔断了怎么办？”五岁的女儿颤抖着嘴唇问我。我跪下来，扶住自行车，看着她的眼睛。我知道她很想学骑车。每次她的朋友们骑着脚踏车路过我们家时，她都有强烈的失落感。但自从上次骑车摔断胳膊后，她就畏惧了。
“噢，宝贝，”我说，“我确信你不会摔断另一条胳膊。”
“但那有可能，不是吗？”
“是有可能，”我承认，想努力找一些能说服她的理由。每到此时，我就希望有人能帮我找到合适的语言，解决女儿遇到的问题。但是，经历一场不幸的婚姻后，单身母亲的苦楚，我倒也能欣然接受了。我曾坚定地告诉给我介绍男朋友的人，我要单身一辈子。
“我不想骑车了。”女儿边说边跳下自行车。
我们走到路边，坐在树旁。
“难道你不想和朋友们一起骑车吗？”我问她。
“当然想。”她点点头。
“我以为你想明年就能骑车上学呢。”我补充道。
“我是这么想的。”她说着，声音几乎颤抖起来。
“宝贝，你知道吗？”我说，“无论做什么事都有风险，汽车失事会折断胳膊，再坐车也会害怕。跳绳能摔断胳膊，做体操也能，难道你也不想练早操了吗？”
“当然不是。”女儿坚定地说。然后她站起来，鼓起勇气决定再试试。我扶着车尾，直到她有胆量说：“放手！”
整个下午，我都在公园看着勇敢的女儿克服心中的恐惧，并暗自庆幸自己是个独当一面的单身母亲。
回家的路上，我们推着自行车走在人行横道上，她问起昨晚无意中听到的我和母亲的谈话。
“昨晚你为什么和姥姥吵架呢？”
母亲和别人一样关心我的婚姻，总是给我介绍男朋友。我总是拒绝和她物色的人见面，她认为史蒂夫很适合我。
“没什么。”我跟女儿讲。
她耸耸肩：“姥姥说她就希望你找个爱人。”
“姥姥想再找个人来伤我的心。”我突然说道，我很气愤，母亲竟把这事也跟女儿讲。
“但是，妈妈……”
“你还小，不懂。”我对她说。
她沉默了一会儿，然后抬起头，小声地说了句话，使我陷入了沉思。
“这样看，爱情和摔断胳膊是不同的了。”
我无言以对，我们没再说话，默默地走完了余下的路。到家后，我给母亲打了个电话，责备她不该把这事说给女儿听。接着，像下午我的小宝贝那样，我克服了心理障碍，答应去见史蒂夫。
史蒂夫很适合我，不到一年，我们结婚了。看来母亲和女儿是对的。
■心灵小语
在人生的旅途中，每次的阻碍和挫折都是一道风景。当你面对它的时候，放松心情，勇敢地接受生活的挑战，克服障碍，前面迎接你的将会是一片风和日丽的好景色。
Love Is Just Like a Broken Arm
Anonymous
“But what if I break my arm again？” my five yearold daughter asked, her lower lip trembling. I knelt holding onto her bike and looked her right in the eyes. I knew how much she wanted to learn to ride. How often she felt left out when her friends pedaled by our house. Yet ever since she’d fallen off her bike and broken her arm, she’d been afraid.
“Oh honey,” I said. “I don’t think you’ll break another arm.”
“But I could, couldn’t I？”
“Yes,” I admitted, and found myself struggling for the right thing to say. At times like this, I wished I had a partner to turn to someone who might help find the right words to make my little girl’s problems disappear. But after a disastrous marriage and a painful divorce, I’d welcomed the hardships of being a single parent and had been adamant in telling anyone who tried to fix me up that I was terminally single.
“I don’t think I want to ride,” she said and got off her bike.
We walked away and sat down beside a tree.
“Don’t you want to ride with your friends？” I asked.
“Yes,” she admitted.
“And I thought you were hoping to start riding your bike to school next year,” I added.
“I was,” she said, her voice almost a quiver.
“You know, honey,” I said. “Most everything you do come with risks. You could get a broken arm in a car wreck and then be afraid to ever ride in a car again. You could break your arm jumping rope. You could break your arm at gymnastics. Do you want to stop going to gymnastics？”
“No,” she said. And with a determined spirit, she stood up and agreed to try again. I held on to the back of her bike until she found the courage to say, “Let go！”
I spent the rest of the afternoon at the park watching a very brave little girl overcome a fear, and congratulating myself for being a selfsufficient single parent.
As we walked home, pushing the bike as we made our way along the sidewalk, she asked me about a conversation she’d overheard me having with my mother the night before.
“Why were you and grandma arguing last night？”
My mother was one of the many people who constantly tried to fix me up. How many times had I told her “no” to meeting the Mr. Perfect she picked out for me. She just knew Steve was the man for me.
“It’s nothing,” I told her.
She shrugged. “Grandma said she just wanted you to find someone to love.”
“What grandma wants is for some guy to break my heart again,” I snapped, angry that my mother had said anything about this to my daughter.
“But Mom...”
“You’re too young to understand,” I told her.
She was quiet for the next few minutes. Then she looked up and in a small voice gave me something to think about.
“So I guess love isn’t like a broken arm.”
Unable to answer, we walked the rest of the way in silence. When I got home, I called my mother and scolded her for talking about this to my daughter. Then I did what I’d seen my brave little gift do that very afternoon. I let go and agreed to meet Steve.
Steve was the man for me. We married less than a year later. It turned out mother and my daughter were right.
断翅
吉姆.胡里汉
有些人注定就是要失败的。这是一些成人看待问题少年的观点。也许你曾听说过这句谚语：“断翅的鸟儿永远飞不高。”我相信，蒂杰每天在学校里也都是这样定义自己的。
直到上高中，蒂杰都是镇上远近闻名的捣蛋鬼。只要看到蒂杰的名字出现在留级学生名册上，老师们个个都是毛骨悚然。蒂杰不爱说话，而且不回答老师的问题，打架是家常便饭。进入高中后，他差不多门门功课都不及格，却每年都能跟班升级，其原因就是老师们不想来年再教他。蒂杰的确天天都去上学，可显然丝毫没有长进。
在一次周末学生领导会议上，我第一次遇见蒂杰。学校邀请所有学生签名参加一项旨在鼓励他们积极参与社团活动的ACE培训课程。405名学生都签了名，蒂杰也是其中一位。在我第一次主持他们的会议前，社团主席向我大体介绍了学生们的情况：“今天我们这里的学生可谓良莠不齐，从学生会主席到拥有小镇历史上最长时间被捕记录的男生——蒂杰。”我知道，这不是我第一次听别人这样介绍蒂杰——先从他的缺点开始介绍。
大会开始后，蒂杰又是站在学生圈外，背靠着墙，脸上一副“来啊，来打动我”的表情。他没有打算参与小组讨论，似乎也没什么要说的。但互动的游戏渐渐引起了他的兴趣。当各个小组开始讨论本年度校园里发生的好事和坏事时，他心中的冰雪才开始融化。在这些问题上，蒂杰有着自己明确的观点。和他一组的学生们都十分赞赏他。刹那间，蒂杰感觉自己成了小组的一分子，而且不久之后便成为了小组的领导。他的观点意义深刻，每个人都在仔细聆听。蒂杰是个聪明的孩子，他有许多伟大的思想。
第二天，蒂杰成为所有研讨班上最活跃的人。会议临近结束时，他参加了“无家工程”队。他理解贫穷、饥饿和绝望，他的思想和高昂的热情感染了队里的同学。队员们推选他为联合主席。学生会主席将采纳蒂杰的执行计划。
周一上午刚到学校，蒂杰却面临着一个困难。一群老师向校长反映反对蒂杰当联合主席。原来社区服务工程的第一个任务就是由“无家工程”队组织的大型食物募捐活动。对于这个久负盛名的3年行动计划，这些老师不相信校长居然会把这项活动的重要开端交到一无是处的蒂杰手上。他们提醒校长：“蒂杰的犯罪记录和你的手臂一样长，他可能会偷走一半募捐到的食物。”考格劭先生提醒老师们，ACE课程的宗旨就是要培养学生们积极向上的热情，并使他们更多地将这种热情投入到实践活动中去，直到有了真正的改变为止。老师们失望地摇着头离开了，他们坚持认为失败近在眼前。
两个星期后，蒂杰和他的朋友们率领一支由70名学生组成的队伍募捐食物。仅仅在两个小时之内，他们就创下了学校募捐纪录——2854罐食物。附近两条街区中心的空货架被装得满满的，这些食物解决了这一地区贫困家庭75天的温饱问题。第二天，当地报纸用了整整一个版面对这一事件进行了报道。报纸被张贴在学校的公告栏上——每个人都可以看到的地方。当然少不了蒂杰的照片，因为他做了件大事，他创造了学校募捐食物的纪录。这张报纸在每一天都提醒他曾做过的事情。大家公认蒂杰具有领导天赋。
蒂杰开始每天出现在校园里，并第一次回答老师们提出的问题。他还组织领导了第二项工程，收集了300条毯子和1000双鞋捐给那些无家可归的贫民。他的业绩达到一天内募捐到9000罐食物，解决了贫困家庭一年内70％的食物需求。
蒂杰的事迹提醒我们：断翅的鸟儿需要的只是疗伤。只要伤口愈合，它就可以飞得更高。蒂杰找到了一份工作，他很能干。现在他飞得相当精彩。
■心灵小语
不同的人，总有着不同的成长历程，每个人脚下的路都曲曲折折，不尽相同。在定义一个人时，我们更应该认识到他的优点。沉沦中的人更需要他人的支持、帮助和关爱。暂时身处顺境中的人们，伸出援助之手，就极有可能成就一个天才！
Broken Wing
Jim Hullihan
Some people are just doomed to be failures. That’s the way some adults look at troubled kids. Maybe you’ve heard the saying, “A bird with a broken wing will never fly as high.” I’m sure that T. J. Ware was made to feel this way almost every day in school.
By high school, T. J. was the most celebrated troublemaker in his town. Teachers literally cringed when they saw his name posted on their classroom lists for the next semester. He wasn’t very talkative, didn’t answer questions and got into lots of fights. He had flunked almost every class by the time he entered his senior year, yet was being passed on each year to a higher grade level. Teachers didn’t want to have him again the following year. T. J. was moving on, but definitely not moving up.
I met T. J. for the first time at a weekend leadership retreat. All the students at school had been invited to sign up for ACE training, a program designed to have students become more involved in their communities. T. J. was one of 405 students who signed up. When I showed up to lead their first retreat, the community leaders gave me this overview of the attending students, “We have a total spectrum represented today, from the student body president to T. J. Ware, the boy with the longest arrest record in the history of town.” Somehow, I knew that I wasn’t the first to hear about T. J.’s darker side as the first words of introduction.
At the start of the retreat, T. J. was literally standing outside the circle of students, against the back wall, with that“go ahead, impress me” look on his face. He didn’t readily join the discussion groups, didn’t seem to have much to say. But slowly, the interactive games drew him in. The ice really melted when the groups started building a list of positive and negative things that had occurred at school that year. T. J. had some definite thoughts on those situations. The other students in T. J. ’s group welcomed his comments. All of a sudden T. J. felt like a part of the group, and before long he was being treated like a leader. He was saying things that made a lot of sense, and everyone was listening. T. J. was a smart guy and he had some great ideas.
The next day, T. J. was very active in all the sessions. By the end of the retreat, he had joined the Homeless Project team. He knew something about poverty, hunger and hopelessness. The other students on the team were impressed with his passionate concern and ideas. They elected T. J. cochairman of the team. The student council president would be taking his instruction from T. J. Ware.
When T. J. showed up at school on Monday morning, he arrived to a firestorm. A group of teachers were protesting to the school principal about his being elected cochairman. The very first communitywide service project was to be a giant food drive, organized by the Homeless Project team. These teachers couldn’t believe that the principal would allow this crucial beginning to a prestigious, threeyear action plan to stay in the incapable hands of T. J. Ware. They reminded the principal, “He has an arrest record as long as your arm. He’ll probably steal half the food.” Mr. Coggshall reminded them that the purpose of the ACE program was to uncover any positive passion that a student had and reinforce its practice until true change can take place. The teachers left the meeting shaking their heads in disgust, firmly convinced that failure was imminent.
Two weeks later, T. J. and his friends led a group of 70 students in a drive to collect food. They collected a school record：2,854 cans of food in just two hours. It was enough to fill the empty shelves in two neighborhood centers, and the food took care of needy families in the area for 75 days. The local newspaper covered the event with a fullpage article the next day. That newspaper story was posted on the main bulletin board at school, where everyone could see it. T.J.’s picture was up there for doing something great, for leading a recordsetting food drive. Every day he was reminded about what he did. He was being acknowledged as leadership material.
T. J. started showing up at school every day and answered questions from teachers for the first time. He led a second project, collecting 300 blankets and 1,000 pairs of shoes for the homeless shelter. The event he started now yields 9,000 cans of food in one day, taking care of 70 percent of the need for food for one year.
T. J. reminds us that a bird with a broken wing only needs mending. But once it has healed, it can fly higher than the rest. T. J. got a job. He became productive. He is flying quite nicely these days.
真正的勇气
佚名
我知道勇气是什么样子的，6年前我在飞机上看到了。直到现在，我才可以不落泪地凭着记忆把这个故事讲出来。
那个周五的早上，当我们乘坐的L1011航班飞离奥兰多机场时，飞机上的人们个个精神饱满。搭载早班飞机的人主要是前往亚特兰大出差一两天的职业人士。我环顾四周，看到很多的品牌西装、准经理人式发型、皮质公文包以及各种老练的商务旅行者所用的东西。我向后靠靠身子，准备用读书的方式度过剩下的那段旅程。
起飞不久，飞机很显然发生了一些故障。机身剧烈地上下颠簸、左右晃动。所有有经验的旅行者，包括我在内，都会心地微笑着四下看看。大家同样的表情是在彼此相告：我们经历过这样的小麻烦和混乱情况。如果飞机乘坐多了，你就会遇见这样的事情，就知道该如何应对了。
可是，我们的心没能平静多久。飞机升入空中几分钟后，机身就开始大幅度倾斜，一只机翼朝下。飞机想要飞得更高些，可是无济于事，根本飞不起来。没过多久，飞行员就沮丧地向乘客们作了通报。
他说：“我们现在遇到了一些麻烦。目前看来，似乎是前轮转向引擎坏了。指示器显示，飞机的水压系统失灵。我们现在要返回奥兰多机场。由于缺少液压装置，我们不能确定着陆传动装置能否固定得住，因此飞机上的乘务人员会帮助你们做好防着陆冲击准备。另外，如果你向窗外看一下的话，就会看到我们正在倾倒飞机燃料。我们希望尽可能地减缓因机身的重量造成的颠簸。”
换句话说，我们要坠机了。数百加仑的燃料倾倒出来，从我眼前的舷窗外流下，再没有哪种景象比这更令人清醒的了。乘务人员帮助乘容做好防冲姿势，并安慰着那些已经歇斯底里的人。
当我再看那些商务出差的旅伴们时，我对他们脸上表情的突变感到惊讶。现在，显然很多人都受到了惊吓，就连那些最有自制力的人，表情也变得严峻起来，面色如灰。是的，他们的脸色看上去成了真正的灰色，这是我从来都没有看到过的。我想在场的人都是害怕的，无一例外。每个人都在这样或那样的举动中失去了镇静。
我开始在人群中寻找这样一个人：他能在这样的境况中，保持安宁和镇定，能给予人们真正的勇气和伟大的信仰。我没能找到这样的人。接着，我听到我左侧几排椅子处传来一个女人的声音，她的声音依然是镇定的。她正在以一种绝对正常的、聊天式的声调说着话。她的声音中没有恐惧的颤抖，也没有紧张，就连声调也是那样的悦耳。我得去弄明白这声音是谁发出来的。
四周的人们都在哭泣。很多人都在哀号和尖叫，很少一部分人死死地抓着椅子把手，紧咬着牙来保持镇定，然而，恐惧早已写在他们身上。尽管我的信仰使我没有变得歇斯底里，但是此刻，我已经不能沉着地、像我听到的那个声音那样悦耳，充满信心地讲话了。最后，我看到了她。
混乱中，一位母亲正在与她的孩子交谈着。她三十多岁，相貌平平，正全神贯注地看着自己大约四岁女儿的脸。孩子倾听着，察觉到了母亲所说的话的分量。母亲如此专注的目光，似乎使她不会受到周围哀伤和恐惧的声音的影响。
另一个小女孩的形象在我的脑子里闪现，她是最近一场空难的幸存者。据推测，她能幸免于难，是因为她的母亲为了保护她，用安全带将她和自己捆在一起，用自己的身体把她压在了身下。母亲没能活下来。对于这个小女孩在事后接受的心理治疗，报纸在几个星期内作了追踪报道。心理治疗的目的是为了消除这个幸存者的负罪感。医生一遍又一遍地告诉小女孩，母亲的离去并不是她的过错。但愿今天的故事不会这样结束。
我努力去听清楚母亲对孩子所说的话。我必须听到，需要听到。我弯下身子，终于奇迹般地听到了那温柔的、自信的、令人放心的声音。一遍又一遍，母亲告诉女儿：“我很爱你。你相信妈妈爱你胜过一切吗？”
“相信，妈妈。”小姑娘回答说。
“不管发生什么事，你都要记住，妈妈会一直爱你。你是个好孩子。有些事情的发生并不是你的错，你还是个好孩子，我的爱将会永远与你同在。”
说完，母亲伏身遮住女儿的身体，用座位上的安全带将两个人系在一起，做好了防冲准备。然而，飞机着陆传动装置竟然奇迹般地挺住了，看似注定的着陆惨案没有发生。潜在的危险在数秒之内结束。
我在那天听到的那个声音，从始至终都从没有颤抖过，没有半点犹豫，一直保持着情绪上和身体上令人难以置信的平和。我们这些坚毅的商人，没有一个可以保持自己的讲话声音不颤抖。只有最伟大的勇气，在更伟大的爱的鼓舞下，才能支持住母亲，使她超然于周围的混乱。那位母亲向我展示出了真正的英雄形象。就在那短短的几分钟内，我听到了勇气的声音。
What Courage Looks Like？
Anonymous
I know what courage looks like. I saw it on a flight I took six years ago, and only now can I speak of it without tears filling eyes at the memory.
When our L1011 left the Orlando airport that Friday morning, we were a chipper1, highenergy group. The earlymorning flights hosted mainly professional people going to Atlanta for a day or two of business. As I looked around, I saw lots of designer suits, CEOcaliber haircuts, leather briefcases and all the trimmings of seasoned business travelers. I settled back for some light reading and the brief flight ahead.
Immediately upon take off, it was clear that something was amiss. The aircraft was bumping up and down and jerking left to right. All the experienced travelers, including me, looked around with knowing grins. Our communal looks acknowledged to one another that we had experienced minor problems and disturbances before. If you fly much, you see these things and learn to act blase about them.
We did not remain blase for long. Minutes after we were airborne2, our plane began dipping wildly and one wing lunged downward. The plane climbed higher but that didn’t help. It didn’t. The pilot soon made a grave announcement.
“We are having some difficulties,” he said. “At this time, it appears we have no nosewheel steering. Our indicators show that our hydraulic system has failed. We will be returning to the Orlando airport at this time. Because of the lack of hydraulics, we are not sure our landing gear will lock, so the flight attendants will prepare you for a bumpy landing. Also, if you look out the windows, you will see that we are dumping fuel from the airplane. We want to have as little on board as possible in the event of a tough touchdown.”
In other words, we were about to crash. No sight has ever been so sobering as that fuel, hundreds of gallons of it, streaming past my window out of the plane’s tanks. The flight attendants helped people get into position and comforted those who were already hysterical3.
As I looked at the faces of my fellow business travelers, I was stunned by the changes I saw in their faces. Many looked visibly frightened now. Even the most stoic looked grim and ashen. Yes, their faces actually looked gray in color, something I’d never seen before. There was not one exception. No one faces death without fear, I thought. Everyone lost composure in one way or another.
I began searching the crowd for one person who felt peace and calm that true courage or great faith gives people in these events. I saw no one. Then a couple of rows to my left, I heard a still calm voice, a woman’s voice, speaking in an absolutely normal conversational tone. There was no tremor or tension. It was a lovely, even tone. I had to find the source of this voice.
All around, people cried. Many wailed and screamed. A few of the men hold onto their composure by gripping armrests and clenching teeth, but their fear was written all over them. Although my faith kept me from hysteria, I could not have spoken so calmly, so sweetly at this moment as the assuring voice I heard. Finally I saw her.
In the midst of all the chaos, a mother was talking, just talking, to her child. The woman, in her mid30’s and unremarkable looking in any other way, was staring full into the face of her daughter, who looked to be four years old. The child listened closely, sensing the importance of her mother’s words. The mother’s gaze held the child so fixed and intent that she seemed untouched by the sounds of grief and fear around her.
A picture flashed into my mind of another little girl who had recently survived a terrible plane crash. Speculation4 had it that she had lived because her mother had strapped her own body over the little girl’s in order to protect her. The mother did not survive. The newspapers had been tracking how the little girl had been treated by psychologists for weeks afterward to ward off feelings of guilt and unworthiness that often haunt survivors. The child was told over and over again that it had not been her fault that her mommy had gone away. I hoped this situation would not end the same way.
I strained5 to hear what this mother was telling her child. I was compelled to hear. I need to hear. Finally, I leaned over and by some miracle could hear this soft, sure voice with the tone of reassurance. Over and over again, the mother said, “I love you so much. Do you know for sure that I love you more than anything？”
“Yes, Mommy,” the little girl said.
“And remember, no matter what happens, that I love you always. And that you are a good girl. Sometimes things happen that are not your fault. You are still a good girl and my love will always be with you.”
Then the mother put her body over her daughter’s, strapped the seat belt over both of them and prepared to crash. For no earthly reason, our landing gear held and our touchdown was not the tragedy it seemed destined to be. It was over in seconds.
The voice I heard that day never wavered, never acknowledged doubt, and maintained an evenness that seemed emotionally and physically impossible. Not one of us hardened business people could have spoken without a tremoring6 voice. Only the greatest courage, undergirded by even greater love, could have borne that mother up and lifted her above the chaos around her. That mom showed me what a real hero looks like. And for those few minutes, I heard the voice of courage.
看得见风景的房间
佚名
两位身患重病的人住在同一间病房里，遵照医嘱，其中一个每天下午要在床上坐一个小时，以便能将肺内的积液排出体外，他的床紧临病房里唯一的一扇窗户。另一个必须终日平躺在床上。他们总是连续几个小时地谈话，谈起各自的家庭和妻子，以及他们的工作和服兵役时在部队里发生的一些事，还有他们都曾度过假的地方。每天下午，靠窗子的病人坐起来，都要向他的病友描述发生在窗外的事，以此来打发时光。这一个多小时，让另一个病人有了更多的生存渴望，他向往窗外那丰富多彩的生活，那会使他视野开阔，心情畅快。
窗外有一个公园，公园里有一个可爱的湖泊。鸭子和天鹅在水中自由自在地游着，孩子们在水面玩着模型船。青年情侣手挽着手漫步于五彩缤纷的花丛中。擎天大树使风景更加幽雅迷人，极目远眺，整个城市尽收眼底。窗边的男人栩栩如生地描述着窗外的美景，此时，另一个男人总是闭上眼睛，幻想着这些如诗如画的美景。
一个阳光和煦的午后，窗边男人又向病友描述着路经的游行队伍，尽管病友听不见鼓乐声，但他可以通过窗边男人的描述，凭借自己的想象在脑海中勾画窗外的繁荣。时间就这样一天天，一周周过去了。一天早上，值班护士给他们送洗澡水时，发现窗边的男人已经死了，他是在睡梦中安静地死去的。她伤心极了，让医院的护理员抬走了尸体。
选择了一个恰当的时机，另一个男人便问护士他是否可以搬到靠窗的床上去，护士很高兴地答应了，打理好一切后，便离开了病房。他努力地用一只胳膊慢慢地支撑着使自己坐起来，他要亲眼看一下外面的世界。他很高兴，终于有机会能亲眼看风景了。他紧张地慢慢扭头望向窗外，看到的是一堵光秃秃的墙。
男人不解地问护士，是什么力量促使已故的病友把窗外的东西描述得那么美好呢？护士回答说那个男人是个盲人，根本连那堵墙都看不到。她说：“他或许只是想给你些鼓励。”
A Room with a View
Anonymous
Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain1 the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room’s only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back. The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement2 in the military service, where they had been on vacation. And every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window. The man in the other bed began to live for those onehour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside.
The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance. As the man by the window described all this in exquisite3 detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.
One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade4 passing by. Although the other man couldn’t hear the band, he could see it in his mind’s eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive5 words. Days and weeks passed. One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep. She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.
As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone. Slowly, painfully, he propped6 himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the world outside. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it for himself. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall.
The man asked the nurse what could have compelled7 his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window. The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall. She said, “Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you.”
77美分
佚名
我在新墨西哥州的爱伯克奇城居住，许多无家可归的人都聚集在市区，特别是在高校区。出于对他们不幸的同情，我过去常会给他们很多钱。然而，随着时间的流逝，我也沦为他们中的一员。离婚后，身为单身母亲的我无家可归，没有收入，还要还一大笔债。我变得很吝啬，不再给街头的流浪者们一分钱。
在我的努力下，生活有所好转。我已经能为女儿买带后院的房子，为她提供丰盛的饭菜，而且债务也渐渐还清。一天，我们看到一个流浪汉，胸前挂着这样的牌子：“请给我点吃的吧。”我漠然地走过。女儿感叹道：“妈妈，您以前总会帮助他们，可是现在怎么……”我回答说：“亲爱的，他们只会用那些钱去喝酒或干坏事。”女儿默不作声。但我觉得自己不应该那么说。
三天后，我开车去学校接女儿。看到一个男子满脸焦虑地站在角落，顿时我心中有个声音说：“去帮助他吧。”于是我摇下车窗，只见他喜出望外地跑了过来，说：“好心的女士，我只需要77美分。”我去摸钱包，却发现没有带。我只好尴尬地摊开手，以示我无能为力。但当他转身要离开时，我叫住了他：“稍等一下！”我在烟灰缸里找到了三张25美分和2个便士。实在太巧了，刚好77美分。
看到这些，我感到皮肤一阵刺痛。我将零钱拿出来，给了他。他顿时开心得热泪盈眶，说：“噢，您让我能够在圣诞节回家看望母亲了！太感谢您了！我已经三年没看过母亲了。汽车还有20分钟就开了！我得走了。”
我永远忘不了那一刻。我想他也不会忘记，但生活却带给了我最珍贵的礼物——给予。它也让我在瞬间明白：一切并非偶然，任何给予都意义非凡，就算只有这极少的77美分。
77Cents
Anonymous
I live in Albuquerque, New Mexico, and there are some homeless people in the downtown, especially the University area. I used to1 give a lot of money to the homeless, feeling sorry for their misfortune2. But as time passed, I fell into a victim to many of the circumstances3 of a homeless person. After I was divorced from my husband, I became a single mom with no home, a huge debt, and hardly any income. As a result, I became very mean and stopped giving to the people on the side of the road.
Through my working hard, things started to change for me. I became responsible enough to have a home with a backyard for my daughter, and plenty of food, and I started to pull myself out of debt. One day we saw a homeless person with the sign“Will work for food”. I passed by. My daughter commented, “Mommy, you used to always give to those people in need. But now ...” I replied, “Honey, they just use that money for alcohoｌ4 or other bad things.” She didn’t respond. But when I said that, I didn’t feel right.
Three days later, I was driving to pick up my daughter from school. A man was standing on the corner with the appearance of worries, and suddenly something deep inside me said, “Just help the guy.” So I rolled down my window, and he ran over with enthusiasm5. He said, “Kind lady, I only need 77 cents.” I reached into my pocket and found that I didn’t take my purse. And then embarrassedly6 spread out my hands to show that I was in no position to help him. But when he turned away, I called to him, “Wait a moment！” I found in my ashtray there sat three quarters and two pennies. Oddly enough, it was the very 77 cents.
My skin was prickling as I saw this. I scooped7 it up and gave it to him. He burst out with joy and tears in his eyes, “Wow, you just made it possible for me to see my mom for Christmas！Thank you so much！I haven’t visited my mother for three years. The bus is leaving in 20 minutes！I have to go now.”
It was the moment that I’ll never forget. I think that man won’t forget it either, but I was the one who got the best gift in life—GIVING. It also strikes me that nothing is a coincidence8, and every giving has meaning, although it is the humble 77 cents.
美丽的失误
佚名
我的外公纳巴肯是一个热爱生活的人，尤其是跟别人开玩笑的时候。每每开某人的玩笑时，他那高大的挪威人的身躯就会随着朗朗的笑声颤抖，他还一面假装毫不知情地大叫：“噢，别再这样诬陷我！”但是在芝加哥的一个寒冷的周六，外公觉得上帝和他开了一个玩笑，而这一次他没有笑。
外公是一个木匠。在那特别的一天，外公为当地的教堂做一些箱子，用来将一些衣物运往国外的一个孤儿院。回家的路上，他伸手到衬衣的口袋里掏眼镜，却发现眼镜不见了。外公清楚地记得，早晨的时候把眼镜放在口袋里了，于是他返回教堂去找。结果一无所获。
他仔细地回忆着自己之前的每个举动，知道到底是怎么一回事了。原来，眼镜不小心从口袋里滑落，掉进了一个箱子里，但是那个箱子他已经钉上了。他那副新牌子的眼镜正被运往中国！
当时正值经济大萧条时期，外公还有六个孩子，那天早晨他刚花了20美元买了一副眼镜。
开车回家的路上，他沮丧地向上帝抱怨着：“这太不公平了。我已经很虔诚了，我花钱、花时间支持你的工作，可是现在却落得个这样的结果。”
数月后，那所孤儿院的院长来美国度假。他想参观一下所有援助过他的教堂，于是在一个星期天的夜晚，院长来到了芝加哥那所外公所在的教堂。稀稀疏疏的人群中，外公和他的家人们就坐在他们常坐的位子上。
院长说：“此次来访最重要的一个目的，就是要感谢去年给我们寄眼镜的那个人。”“即使我有钱，也不可能买到那样的眼镜。因为眼睛看不清楚，我每天都要忍受头痛的煎熬，因此我和我的同事热切地希望能有一副眼镜。后来你们的木箱运到了。我的工人们打开盖子后，发现有一副眼镜就放在衣服的最上面。”
院长停顿了好一会儿，来让人们充分理解他的意思。然后，他继续说下去，仍旧感触于这个不可思议的奇迹：“各位，当我戴上眼镜时，它简直就是为我量身定做的！我太感激你们能送我一副这样的眼镜了！”
人们都聆听着他的话，为这样一副不可思议的眼镜而感到高兴。但是他们认为，一定是这位院长把寄眼镜的那家教堂错当成他们这家教堂了。因为在他们运往海外的捐助物品清单上并没有眼镜。
然而，那位静静地坐在后面、泪流满面的平凡木匠懂得了，真主耶稣以一种特别的方式让他发挥了作用。(译者注：这里说到Master Carpenter，因为耶稣曾是木匠)。
■心灵小语
每个人在生活中或许都会有一些大大小小的失误，然而，有时候失误也会成为人生道路上一道美丽的风景。文中的爷爷，因为不小心把眼镜掉进了运送募捐物品的箱子中，然而这副眼镜却给了受捐赠者极大的帮助，令他感激不已。
The Perfect Mistake
Anonymous
Grandpa Nybakken loved life—especially when he could play a trick on somebody. At those times, his large Norwegian frame shook with laughter while he feigned innocent surprise, exclaiming, “Oh， forevermore！” But on a cold Saturday in downtown Chicago, grandpa felt that God played a trick on him, and grandpa wasn’t laughing.
Mother’s father worked as a carpenter. On this particular day, he was building some crates for the clothes his church was sending to an orphanage1 abroad. On his way home, he reached into his shirt pocket to find his glasses, but they were gone. He remembered putting them there that morning, so he drove back to the church. His search proved fruitless.
When he mentally replayed his earlier actions, he realized what happened. The glasses had slipped out of his pocket unnoticed and fallen into one of the crates, which he had nailed shut. His brand new glasses were heading for2 China！
The Great Depression was at its height, and grandpa had six children. He had spent twenty dollars for those glasses that very morning.
“It’s not fair,” he told God as he drove home in frustration.“I’ve been very faithful in giving of my time and money to your work, and now this.”
Several months later, the director of the orphanage was on furlough3 in the United States
