【推荐3】When I moved into my apartment in Toronto, the path forward of my immigrant life wasn’t clear. I was busy figuring out a new language and culture. I didn’t know anyone well in Toronto and wasn’t sure if I wanted to stay. As time passed, I grew roots into the ground while taking pictures of the garden next door.

My studies required me to take exams which I prepared for in the evenings, after work. My mother visited to take care of me. Once she arrived in Toronto, I showed her a few places she could wander to in the neighborhood. One day, on arriving home in the evening, I found her waiting for me.

“You will not believe it,” she said “Your neighbor talked to me today. She called me over to show me her garden, but I did not want to go empty-handed, so I snatched (一把抓起) the garden pictures from the shelves and gave them to her. She wanted to know about us.” I rang them and got an invitation that same evening.

My neighbors were incredibly welcoming. They “adopted” me that evening. Immigrants themselves, Ann and John were curious about me. They told us about their lives and their grandchildren.

Over the years, I felt like I became an extended member of their family. Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving, birthdays, I was at Ann and John’s. They helped me embrace my new Canadian identity.

After graduation, I got a chance that meant I needed to move west. I didn’t get back to Toronto much, but when John’s 90th birthday came along, I couldn’t miss it.

Countless family and friends came to their house and its magic garden to celebrate John’s spirit. I stepped away to let myself navigate (穿行) those familiar garden paths, and there, I met Michael. Michael ended up joining me out west, and when we decided to get married, we immediately called Ann and John.

“You are having your wedding here!” they said. We could not refuse that offer. My parents couldn’t make it to our wedding. Age, disease and distance shattered (使破灭) my hopes of having them witness our happiness. But Ann and John, our other families and friends did not let any shadow fall over that day.

Many seasons have now passed. Ann still watches over her garden and perhaps secretly listens for John’s voice, now a memory. Life continues, but I know the garden will grow greener in spring. I cannot wait to wander its pathways again, wandering in Ann’s steps.

【推荐2】Denis Mukwege never planned to become Dr Miracle, an award­winning doctor. He grew up in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) (刚果民主共和国). In fact, it was visiting the sick with his father that made him want to become a doctor in the first place.

The country has experienced more than twenty years of fighting and Congolese women have suffered the worst. In order to control the country’s valuable mineral deposits   (矿床), rebel (反叛) groups are attacking women in the area.

One man stands strongly against this huge harm. He first set up Panzi Hospital made of tents (帐篷) in 1999. After losing the hospital the same year in the crossfire of the Second Congo War, Mukwege rebuilt it the following year. Since then, Panzi Hospital has grown to a major health center. There, Mukwege reportedly cares for more than 3,500 women a year, sometimes performing as many as 10 operations a day.

Year after year, Mukwege puts his life on the line to help injured women. In 2012, Mukwege’s devotion to this cause was tested after almost being killed and his daughters being taken hostage (人质). He and his family escaped to safety in Sweden and then to Belgium. Thanks to a movement by local Congolese women who raised money for a return ticket, the doctor was able to go home. Although Mukwege went back to the DRC, he was forced to live inside the hospital under the protection of UN peacekeepers.

Last year when operating in the hospital, Mukwege heard the news that he, along with Nadia Murad, had been awarded the 2018 Nobel Peace Prize. “When I see how strong women are，” Mukwege said, “all my energy comes.” Winning the Nobel Peace Prize could be the first step towards an end to violence against women.

【推荐1】Someone on Facebook had shared pictures of her vacation in Europe. Our kids came home from school talking about the new video game their friends had just gotten. Meanwhile, we were living in a house furnished mostly with free services and dressing our kids in secondhand clothes. And even when we and the kids had to go in three different directions at night, we didn’t eat out.

As my poor mother-in-law was in town for a visit, I told her about those while clearing the table after dinner. “There are so many things I’d like to have, so many things I’d like to do, but we just can’t. ”

“You know, ” she said, “when you compare yourself to others, it’s easy to focus on what you don’t have. But there’s one thing you two should realize, that is, what other married couples don’t have but you have. You two make a priority of going out together and taking time to focus on your marriage. And that’s a very important thing. You two have such a great marriage. ”

I stopped wiping the table and pondered what she said for a minute. I thought of the movie my husband and I had seen a week earlier. I remembered the bike rides and the concerts, the hikes and the picnics. Most of all, I thought of how happy we were together, even after twenty years.

I looked around my home with new eyes. Our refrigerator is almost too small for a family of six, but it’s always filled with food that is both nourishing and delicious. Our kitchen is old and shabby, but it comes to us from our grandmothers’ homes after they passed away.

Even without the big TV and the European vacations and the new wardrobe every season, we are. . . well. . . happy.

And you know what? That’s enough.

【推荐2】When Rich Jean wanted to help his daughter, Abigail, learn to read, he took her to the library near their home in Brooklyn, N. Y. That's where they met Hasina Islam, who Jean says arose her interest in reading and the library.

“You see what you started? You see that spark that you put in this child?” Jean told Hasina Islam at a StoryCorps conversation in 2016. At the time, Abigail was 7 and Islam was 27. Their friendship began when Abigail was 3. Through the years, Islam has offered book suggestions that Abigail has read with great enthusiasm. “What's cool is that Hasina has recommended a lot of books that I, at the time, thought might be a little too advanced for you," Jean told Abigail. “Like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory." Abigail said.

Islam's own love of the library was sparked when she was in the third grade. She lived near the main branch of the Queens Public Library in New York City, and she went there to research Henry Hudson, an English explorer, for a school project.

"The librarian made me feel so special. She remembered my name, and my favorite thing was that she gave me book recommendations," she said." When I was graduating from college, I thought about how I was going to make a difference in the world. And I remembered my librarian，and I remembered that feeling that she gave me every single time I went to the library. ”

【推荐3】I'd spent decades telling my girls that their bodies were a means to a long and satisfactory life, not objects to be admired because of how they look. I told them that good health and the energy to enjoy life should be their ultimate goals, not fitting into society's preconceived ideas of what is beautiful.

This year I'm sixty years old. I appear much older than before. This aging body of mine is not the one I expected to have. Looking at the old, fat, wrinkled woman in the mirror, I begin to complain about it. I've actually spent a lifetime focusing on my flaws, constantly complaining about my less-than-perfect self. As I was complaining yet again, my younger daughter told me, “Mom, stop. Stop putting yourself down. This is the body you live in now. It's beautiful because it's yours.” If I'm unwilling to accept my aging self with grace and dignity, how can I possibly expect my girls to do the same when they face these same physical changes?

And then, I learned that a friend of mine, the same age as me, died. At her funeral, her three heartbroken daughters spoke of their mother's devotion, wisdom, and compassion. They never said a single word about her appearance though her body had melted away during her last months. It didn't matter. I left that funeral desperate to hold my own girls in my arms, to kiss them and tell them how much they mean to me , and to promise that I will do better, be better—for them as well as for myself.

And so, to honour the memory of my dear friend and to set a good example to my beloved girls, I promise to love my aging body, and celebrate the gift of being alive.