I had recently graduated from high school and volunteered at a local nursing home. It was an eye-opening experience. One of the residents, Ms Brown, seemed bored and unhappy. She had the reputation (名声) of being “Difficult”. She was odd (古怪的) and stayed alone all day, unwilling to communicate with others. It seemed as if she had lived in a world of her own.

The nursing workers kindly advised that when I got her up, I should tie her to her chair before going to get her breakfast, for she might fall down. I simply did as I was told. After all, I didn’t want her to fall and get hurt. I always struck up a conversation the minute I walked into her room to get her up for breakfast. She never spoke but I knew she could hear me, and she knew I cared.

One morning, I sat her down in her chair safely as before. While all of this was taking place, she just watched me attentively as I set about the task at hand, talking to her the whole time. After explaining that I would be right back with her breakfast, I stepped out into the hallway to the breakfast cart (手推车). It took a couple of minutes to find hers. I got it and started back down the hall to her room about fifteen feet away. Coming near the door, I heard some noises from inside. I looked in and saw an empty chair. Ms Brown was back in her bed, all covered up and comfortable, acting like nothing had happened. Right then and there, I realized that there was a lot more going on in that woman’s head than any of us had imagined. I had to find something that would inspire her interest in life again.

The next month, I would talk about everything I could think of.

From that day on, Ms Brown and I chatted every day.

Have you ever had to overcome an extreme challenge in your life?

My teenage years had been insane. From schoolwork to athletics, I had always been running around. Everything was so difficult.

Throughout my hectic teenage years I have been faced with many extreme challenges that have required extreme focus and hard work to overcome. If it hadn't been for hard work, none of these challenges that I faced would have been conquered.

Two years ago, when I was a freshman in high school, I dealt with an extremely significant injury. This took place in my tennis tournament in January. In the climax of my match, I jolted my back to the left and soon after felt a sharp, painful shock run through my spine. I knew at that difficult moment I seriously injured my back. I was rushed off the court and my parents made an appointment with an orthopedist (矫形外科医生) for the next morning.

I walked into the office extremely nervous and suffering from excruciating pain. My tennis season for school started in three months and I absolutely needed to build up the strength.

After about twenty minutes of waiting in the office, which felt like an eternity，the doctor walked in to examine my X­rays. With a sorrowful face, the doctor looked into mine and my mother's eyes and said," There is a 50/50 chance that Lucas will be able to participate in this years tennis season. Lucas broke his L5 vertebrae in his lower back." My heart dropped and I felt a sadness come over me. The doctor said that I would be sitting out of physical activity for two and a half to three months.

Those three months were the longest three months of my life. I was so eager to get back to practices for the season. Every day, I would think about how it was going to be when I was fully healthy. I asked myself," Am I going to be out of shape? Should I even play this year? I probably won't have a successful season."

From that dreadful day on, I decided that I was going to put in the work to be back in top form and have a successful season.

After I got the" all clear" from my orthopedist I was going to get to work.

My hard work proved to be very effective.

On rainy days, Juanita liked to climb the attic (阁楼) stairs and play with her stuffed animals (毛绒玩具) under the roof. Here she could hear the drumming sound of the rain. The attic was dark on stormy days, but Juanita thought it was comfortable to have only one light bulb (灯泡) on.

Today, Juanita was pretending that her stuffed animals were Olympic athletes. The event was the high jump, so Juanita threw them into the air to see how high they could fly. Tom, her stuffed monkey, flew so high that he hit the ceiling and went over into a dark corner.

When Juanita went to find Tom, she saw a box on the floor in the corner. It was dusty (布满灰尘的), with gold corners and a metal lock that held it shut. Its key was lying just beside it. She had never noticed this box before. What could be inside?

Juanita brought the box and the key over to the middle of the attic, under the light bulb where she could see better. She opened it carefully and looked inside. Inside the box were a lot of black and white photos. Most of them were of a small girl with her hair braided (编辫子).

The girl looked just like Juanita! This was confusing. “I’ve never been to that house,” she thought as she looked through the photos. There was a gray farmhouse in the background of each picture. How could Juanita be in pictures of a place she had never been to?

Juanita ran downstairs with the photos to show her mom.

Juanita asked her mom to take some photos for her and hang them up with Grandma’s.

Broken Shells

It was a warm summer afternoon at the Jersey shore. My four-year-old son and I just loved walking along the beach just before dinner. With a bucket in hand, we’d hit the sand and start our adventure.

I remember the days not so long ago when a trip to the beach was just unbearable for my little boy. My son, Will, was diagnosed with ASD (孤独症). His sensitivities to sights, sounds, and touches would prevent us from enjoying everyday activities. The beach is now one of his favorite places to visit.

Presently, we are able to walk along the edge of the water almost daily in the summer months, looking for seashells to fill our bucket. On this particular day, there didn’t seem to be too many shells washed up on the shore. Will began picking up whatever shells he saw lying in the sand. After a while, I looked into the bucket and saw nothing but broken shells. “Will,” I said, “all of these shells are broken and no good.” “You need to find shells like this,” I continued, as I held up a perfectly shaped shell. Will gave me a puzzled look and continued on his way, gathering whatever shells he saw and dropping them into the bucket.

I continued my search for some time, and again, I stopped, but this time I asked in a firm voice, “Will, why do you insist on filling our bucket with shells that are broken?” He looked up at me and replied, “Mom, there are more shells on the beach that are broken than there are perfect ones that you are searching for. We’ll get the bucket filled faster with the broken ones.” True, I thought, but who wanted a bucketful of broken shells? Will stared at me as if he knew what I was thinking. “Mom, these shells are broken. but they are still beautiful.” he added. Just then he began commenting on different shells’ uniqueness. “It has the color purple on it. Mom, none of yours have purple on them. It reminds me of a clown (小丑). This one is like the sun, and these ones are like butterfly wings,” he said with such pride.

Touched by what he said, I realized changes are to be made to our shell trip.

Back home with great joy, we agreed to make more shell trips and build a “broken shell garden”.

It was just another busy day until I met the boy on the bus. He was not a passenger like me. He was, what we call a street child, an 8-10-year-old kid with a worn T-shirt. These poorly dressed kids were seen almost everywhere in Dhaka city. But what was special about that boy was his face. There was “something” in him that caught my attention. That was an angelic(天使般的)baby face with little care.

He got straight into the bus as it stopped at a traffic light. The bus helper shouted at him in the first place. But instead of talking back, the boy kept silent and started handing out a piece of paper to all the passengers. What was written in the paper was, in short, that his father died a couple of years ago. His mother worked at houses. He badly needed money to help his family, so he wished someone warm-hearted to buy chocolates from him.

This was nothing new to people who took a bus every day and I was no different. I had my earphones on, listening to some relaxing music to kill time. When he came to me to get the paper back, I casually gave him some money. Thankfully it brought some smiles on his face. He was about to give me ten chocolates in return for the money I gave to him when I stopped him.

“I don’t like chocolates, brother. So there is no need of chocolates. You can have the money,” I said.

All of a sudden, the smile on his face disappeared.

“I’m not a beggar. Please take the chocolate, or take your money back.”

His straight answer greatly surprised me. I even felt he was slightly angry. I had given money to many kids before, without taking their chocolates. But this time something seemed different. I realized his angelic baby face was not the only thing special about him.

The boy put ten chocolates on my seat and got off the bus.

Having got the boy’s name, I decided to help him.