【推荐1】A young lawyer named Gabriel Massote, from Uberlandia, a city in southeastern Brazil, was diagnosed with blood cancer at age 26. He had chemotherapy(化疗)for almost a year. However, his cancer returned in a worse form, so he had to receive a bone marrow transplant(骨髓移植)。

Brazilian news medium Sempre Familia shared his story. It said how over 1, 000 miles away, in a small town in the state of Rondonia, an unemployed hairdresser named Elza dos Santos came across a series of posters near a supermarket in the city of Ariquemes and went to see what they were about. After learning about the whole thing, Elza signed up as a donor.

Just when the possibility of Gabriel's finding a match in the Bone Marrow Donor Registry in Brazil was about1 in 100, 000, he was blessed. In Rondonia, Elza was informed her marrow was a match for that of a person in need of a transplant and she didn't say no.

She traveled to Rio Grande o Norte, on the opposite side of Brazil, for the transplant. The first attempt didn't work. Elza was called again and she immediately made a second trip in order to repeat the process. Gabriel, now 35, concludes, "She saved me twice, and today my blood cells are Elza's. "

Deeply grateful, Gabriel wanted to find the donor. "When I met Elza and found out that she and her husband were unemployed and living in borrowed space, I was sure I should help them. "The lawyer started a campaign online and soon 465 people donated about$28, 500. Thanks to this generosity, Elza and her family bought a house.

＂I was just a drop of water in the life of this young man, but today he's the whole ocean in my life, "Elza told Sempre Familia.

【推荐2】I didn’t expect parenting a teenager to be this hard. Lately, my son and I conflict at every corner. About schoolwork. His attitude. Friends. Screen time. On and on. Everything I say is met with an eye roll or a mumbled “whatever”. My fuse is admittedly shorter than normal right now, due to some unrelated anxiety, illness, and lack of sleep.

On a recent drive home, after picking up my teen and his little brother from school, we stopped by a grocery. As soon as the food was loaded, my older child snatched a box of individually wrapped cakes, which I seldom allowed As he oohed and aahed, enjoying sweet cakes, I silently questioned my decision to spoil him this way. But before we’d even exited the parking lot, he asked me to pull over. And then my son surprised me: He asked if he could share a few of his treasured treats with a homeless man, standing outside the door, coatless.

Of course, I agreed.

Actually, I kicked myself. This was a gesture I hadn’t even considered in a hurry to get home, even though my car was packed with food. Without hesitation, my teenage son handed the stranger a few little cakes. The man thanked us, and we continued on our way.

Throughout our journey home, we frankly discussed how difficult it must be for people experiencing homelessness. It was a rare conversation. No push and pull or negotiations. Simply a time to reflect and take stock of how much we have to be thankful for.

When we eventually turned into our garage, that same teenager — expressing concern for my recent illness — announced, “You’re not unloading any of these bags. We got this, Mom.”

Yes, parenting a ten is harder than I expected. But it’s also sweeter: And, in that moment, you realize you’ve actually raised a pretty awesome human being.

【推荐3】100-year-old Alfred Larson has been through a lot in his lifetime, but one thing that keeps him going is bluebirds.

When Alfred retired in 1978, he wanted to find a hobby or something to do that would keep him busy and provide him with a sense of purpose. When he read a National Geographic article about crafting wooden nest boxes for bluebirds to help improve their populations, he decided to give it a try. Alfred explained that he started building nest boxes on his ranch (大牧场) using left-over pieces of wood.

More than four decades later, Alfred is still going strong and promoting bluebird conservation efforts. Alfred is now monitoring nearly 350 nest boxes on six different trails (小路) in Southwest Idaho. He said, “I settled on a simple design that was easy to build and easy to monitor. I kept adding more boxes on these trails, and these birds responded.” Alfred’s boxes give bluebirds a lot of help in survival. “Without his work, we can’t see so many bluebirds now,” said Pearman, the author of Mountain Bluebird Trail Monitoring Guide.

To celebrate his achievements, filmmaker Matthew Podolsky worked with Alfred for weeks to create a 30-minute documentary—Bluebird Man. The film explores how everything led him to the work he does today and his efforts in bluebird protection. “I remember the first trip I took to the bluebird trail with Alfred, and I was very surprised by the speed with which he moved from box to box,” said Podolsky. “He was hiking across difficult and uneven terrain (地形). I often struggled to keep up with him. Sometimes we’d check more than 100 boxes and be driving home in the dark.”

The impact he’s had on the populations of bluebirds in North America will continue.

【推荐1】When I was a boy growing up, I couldn’t once ever remember either my mom or my grandma wasting food. Anything we didn’t eat at one meal was saved, stored and served as leftovers later on. I can remember my grandma making a huge pot of brown beans with a large cake of cornbread. We would all eat until we were stuffed, but there was always about half of the beans left over. A few days later, my grandma would take those beans out of the refrigerator, boil spaghetti (意大利面), add vegetables and mix them all together into her delicious spaghetti. I also remember when I watched my mom fry bacon for us in the morning, she would always take the oil and carefully pour it into a container. Then she later would use it to flavor so many other dishes. I was an adult before I realized that green beans didn’t actually taste like bacon.

I learned their lessons well and tried to never waste food myself after I grew up. I always planned the week’s meals ahead of time and only bought what was on my shopping list, so nothing went to waste. Every meal went into the stomach and any leftovers were later eaten by either myself, my boys or my dogs. To me, throwing food in the trash was just wrong. All the work it took to grow it, harvest it and prepare it needed to be honored, not wasted.

However, I have learned something else over the years. When it comes to living, there are no leftovers. Each moment that you don’t live is lost forever. Life can’t be saved. Life can’t be stored. Life has to be lived, TODAY.

Live each moment of your life to the fullest then. Make every day a feast of love with no leftovers, Leo Buscaglia once said, “Each day is a fresh beginning, a little life to itself,” Don’t let any of these little lives go to waste. They are gifts. Cherish them. Care for them. Chow down on them. Live your life with a full belly and a full heart.

【推荐2】The eyeliner makes the dark circles less pronounced. The lipstick hides the trembling. The ponytail (马尾辫) masks missing patches of hair. I might look a bit thinner, but everyone will ask about my new diet. One hour of preparation and I look like myself. One hour out of 24. Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it—wasting a twenty-fourth of my day on a lie.

Checking my makeup one last time, I slip on a cute pair of flats—heels are too dangerous with shaky legs—and grab my Hollister bag. Walking downstairs, I breathe in the sweet smell of waffles and juice.

“Morning, Mom,” I call.

“Morning, baby,” she sings. “Did you sleep well?”

“Better than I have been.”

She sighs, and her eyes look a hundred years old for a minute. “Any improvement is good,” she says half-heartedly.

“Of course.”

“I made waffles.”

“Thanks. Mom. Smells delicious.”

I sit at the table and she hands me a plate. The thought of all that food turns my stomach, but I force a smile and thank my mother again. She busies herself at the sink and fills the silence with chatter. When she turns around, she takes in the waffles still on my plate, only missing a few bites. I smile apologetically.

“I’m not very hungry this morning.”

“You’ll need your strength for this afternoon. Morrison will wait for you.” She bites her lip.

“I packed your lunch.”

I’m 18, Mom. I can pack my own lunch. You have more important things to do.”

She reaches for the paper bag. “But now I know you’ll have something to eat. And you need to eat, okay? You have to keep your strength up.”

Sighing, I take the bag. I know this peanut butter and jelly sandwich won’t be eaten, not any more than the one yesterday or the day before. And even if I do eat it, I’ll just throw it up later.

“Honey, have you thought about what I said the other day?” she asks.

I remain silent.

“Sweetheart, you can’t hide the secret forever. Eventually you’re going to miss school and people will start asking questions.”

“Mom, I have two months left of high school. I can make it till then. I’m class president. I was voted ‘Most popular’, ‘Best smile’ and ‘Most likely to succeed’. I’m the girl who’s got it all together. People don’t want to know that the girl who’s got it all together doesn’t have it all together. People don’t want to know that girl is to be parted!”

“Honey, don’t say that. You’re not……”

“Yes, I am. You heard Dr. Morrison. I have maybe a year left. But that means I can graduate and then never see those people again. I’ll depart and they’ll feel sorry for me, but at least I won’t have to tolerate their pity.”

“But...” she tries to interrupt.

“Mom, listen to me. I don’t want to be the girl everyone looks at and whispers, ‘Look at her. Poor thing. She has cancer.’ I can’t handle that. I want to be normal. Just for these last two months.”

“Okay,” she whispers. “Okay. Just remember, it’s okay if you don’t have it all together. Sometimes things just fall apart and there’s nothing we can do.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I grab my bag and lunch and kiss her on the cheek. “Take care, Mom.”

“You too, my angel.” she replies. This exchange, once taken for granted, is now a vital part of every morning, every afternoon, and every night. Three little words, followed by four more, have come to mean more than an entire conversation. They bridge all gaps and disagreements, because we both know there is now a restricted number left.

Keys in hand, I open the door and blink(眨眼) in the early morning sun. Perfect.