Every week I save all the change and $1 bills I have in my purse. Then every Christmas I cash it in for as many $100 bills as the saved money gets me. I then wait for a family in need. I split the money in half and give half to the family in need and the other half to my nine-year-old son, Say’ Veon, who puts it in his savings account, to teach him about delayed satisfaction. Then he helps me get gifts or give the money to the family.

I adopted Say’ Veon after his mother, a close friend of mine, passed away from cancer before his fifth birthday. Even though Say’ Veon has dealt with great loss and sadness at such a young age, his generous spirit and loving heart shine through. He has given money to someone else who needs it more, such as his friends or classmates. Say’ Veon’s acts of kindness always blow me away and I feel blessed to have him in my life.

This week I got a call from a friend, DeeDee, who is 77 years old. She was upset because she had been cheated, and the cheaters took all the money out of her checking account which she lives on, and now she didn’t have the money to pay her rent and bills.

This morning, I took the money and showed Say’ Veon how much I saved this year. I told him what happened to DeeDee, and then asked him if he would be willing to give his half along with my half and donate it to her as our person in need this year.

He said, “Yes, of course.” This year our total was $400.

We went to visit DeeDee and my son handed her a Christmas card with the money. She opened it and said, “Thank you.” She then looked again and stared at the $100 bills.

DeeDee froze there with her eyes wide open.

Suddenly, Say’ Veon said to DeeDee, “You are our family!”

As an independent, self-reliant person who always handled everything by myself, I didn’t expect parenting to be hard. Oh, sure, it’s difficult for other people. I heard parents complaining all the time — kids are challenging; nothing is ever clean; there’s not enough time in the day to do everything. But that was “other people” and I knew I could handle it. How complicated could it be?

I’d always dreamed of adopting a child, and finally my dream came true one summer afternoon. Even though we had requested only one child, the worker asked, “Could you take another baby and his eleven-year-old brother?” Of course, we could. We had room to have all three boys together.

The first week after they moved in, I spent my days rushing from task to task, cleaning and making sure they had all they needed. I constantly organized our living room, which was suddenly full of toys, and picked up the path of destruction left in the boys’ wake. Cooking and cleaning after meals and snacks seemed to take half of my day. I hardly ever sat; something always needed to be done.

“I think we need a break,” my husband told me one evening as I was falling asleep on the couch as usual.

“No,” I refused. The idea of sending them to a stranger sickened me. However, with each passing day, I was growing more and more exhausted. Besides meeting the physical needs of the boys, there were medical and emotional needs. Both the little ones constantly clung (黏住) to me. It was never quiet in our house; I felt overwhelmed.

One night, my husband said firmly that he needed a break. Whether I “needed” one or not, we were going to take one. With tears rolling down my cheeks, I nodded, knowing it was true, although I didn’t want to admit my weakness.

I called my parents.

Asking for help is something I must keep re-learning as time goes on, but it’s getting easier.

What Color Is a Hug?

When my daughter Bernadette was 10 years old, I found myself very worried about her. Her mother had passed away before she turned one, and I, needing to provide for our livelihood, had to work long hours, leaving little time for her. Although she was close to her grandparents, unfortunate circumstances took them away as well. The series of losses implanted unbearable pain on her young soul.

A merciless series of losses like that is hard on anyone, especially a child. But it was particularly hard on Bernadette because of her sensitive and loving nature. Prolonged periods of isolation and silence led her into a deep depression. The sparkle in her eyes faded, and her face lost the once-present smiles. She lost interest in playing, learning, and even declined invitations from friends. She often lost in her own thoughts without uttering a word for a long time.

Witnessing my daughter’s suffering, I felt a deep sense of guilt and helplessness. I knew she needed more than just companionship; she needed a healing of the soul. I began reading more about child psychology, attempting to understand how to guide her out of this situation.

Over the next few months, I adjusted my work schedule to spend more time by her side. I tried to communicate with her, stepping into her inner world. I encouraged her to join some extracurricular classes, developing new friendships. Slowly but surely, Bernadette began to regain her interest in certain things, and smiles started to reappear on her face.

Meanwhile, I started using hugs to comfort her. Each embrace conveyed my love and support, providing her with warmth and a sense of security. Gradually, she became more cheerful and confident. She initiated social interactions, sharing her thoughts with friends. Her mood gradually lifted, and life regained its brilliance.

After years of effort, Bernadette finally stepped out of depression. Our habit of hugging has persisted to this day, becoming the most sincere bond between us. Now, as my daughter is about to enter university, and I am approaching my fiftieth birthday, she has promised me a special gift.

As her summer vacation began, she seemed even busier than before.

Before us was a warmly decorated studio, with a sign reading “Heartwarming Embrace Association.”

I live in a city where jobs are difficult to get and if you want to find a well-paid job, it will be even harder. Therefore, it is not surprising for you to see many people in our city walk a long way because they can’t even afford an old used car.

It was a cold windy day. I saw one of these people who often have to walk from and to work every day, when I was driving after work. A middle-aged man wearing only a thin overcoat was walking down the road and trying to ask for a ride from the passing cars. Unluckily, there was no driver willing to stop their cars. When I saw two cars in front of me pass him by, I wanted to do the same. But the sight of that poor man remained in my mind for quite a moment. I felt as if a big hand was dragging me and forcing me not to leave. Finally I drew back and gave him a ride.

As I drove along, we had a conversation, during which he told me something about himself and his family. I learnt that the man was doing everything he could to support his family using the limited salary from several part-time jobs. As you could imagine, every coin he earned was going to be used to pay for the house and food.

It was a long drive before we got to his home. All the way, I could feel his hardship and tiredness. But as we came close to the house where he was living, I saw his tired eyes grow bright and the whole body was lit up. His lovely girl was playing in the front yard. Seeing her father was out of the car, she ran to him as quickly as possible, reaching out her two small hands. He held the girl with his two strong hands, laughing and kissing her cheeks. I was lost in that happy moment. I smiled, said goodbye to them, wished them the future happiness and then drove off.

On my way home, something came into my mind.

Half an hour later, I got home.