【推荐1】A shop owner placed a sign above his door that said: “Puppies For Sale.” Signs like this always have a way of attracting young children, and to no surprise, a boy saw the sign and approached the owner.

“How much are you going to sell the puppies for?” he asked.

The store owner replied, “Anywhere from $30 to $50.”

The little boy pulled out some change from his pocket. “I have $2.37,” he said. “Can I please look at them?”

The shop owner smiled and whistled. A lady ran down the aisle of his shop followed by five tiny balls of fur.

One puppy was lagging considerably behind. Immediately the little boy singled out the lagging puppy and said, “What’s wrong with that little dog?”

The shop owner explained the puppy was disabled by nature and it would always be lame. The little boy became excited. “I’ll buy it.” The shop owner said, “No, you don’t want to buy that little dog. If you really want him, I’ll just give him to you.” The little boy looked straight into the store owner’s eyes, pointing his finger, and said, “I don’t want you to give him to me. That little dog is worth every bit as much as all the other dogs and I’ll pay full price. In fact, I’ll give you $2.37 now, and 50 cents a month until I have him paid for.”

The shop owner countered, “You really don’t want to buy this little dog. He is never going to be able to run and play with you like the other puppies.”

To his surprise, the little boy reached down and rolled up his pant leg to reveal a badly twisted, crippled left leg supported by a big metal brace. He looked up at the shop owner and softly replied, “Well, I don’t run so well myself, and the little puppy will need someone who understands!”

【推荐2】People are often surprised by my fear of blood and needles. Working in a public health unit, I probably have more daily interaction with syringes (注射器) than the average person. But the truth is, having my blood drawn scares me.

When I was 9, I had an extremely high temperature. A nurse rudely stuck the needle into my arm, causing a sharp pain. I avoided having blood taken from my body for the next years. A few months before I turned 30, my doctor ordered a blood test as part of my physical exam. I panicked. Sensing my fear, she gently suggested I see a psychiatrist (精神科医生). “Dr. M helped my other patients with the same fear,” she said.

When Dr. M called to set up an appointment, I hesitated. Talking about personal problems to a medically licensed stranger was uncommon in my family. “A psychiatrist?” Mother asked. “He’ll just put you on drugs. Can’t you get over this yourself?” I almost listened. But I went to Dr. M’s clinic finally. “Phobias (恐惧症) are pretty easy to treat,” he said. I wasn’t convinced of his words. But despite my doubts, I was running out of options.

We started with basic exposure treatment. I watched videos of blood being drawn every day. As I started to feel more at ease with needles, Dr. M suggested drawing blood. As he gently pressed the needle into my flesh, I felt dizzy and breathed deeply. After a few minutes, I looked at the needle. It wasn’t so bad. I didn’t pass out. “You’re doing well,” Dr. M said.

I still find it unpleasant getting blood drawn, but thanks to several months of treatment, I’m less scared. I hate to admit it, but Dr. M is right — phobias can be treated. Sometimes, we have to leave our comfort zone and face our fears. And this can lead to freedom in the end.

【推荐1】It was an afternoon in August. I was just short of turning eighteen. I stood in front of a six story high, red brick building. It was to be my new home for the next several years. I was a bit scared, unsettled and thrilled at the same time. I had two suitcases and a bag with me. In them were packed all of my clothes, towels, sheets, alarm clock and everything else I thought I would need. I carried them upstairs and then threw them on my bed. I looked around the room wondering what life had in store for me.

It was another afternoon in August. I was just short of turning forty two. My daughter was eighteen and we were standing in front of the same building. I smiled as I helped her carry her things up to her room but I also noticed that my wife and I were making more than one trip. All of the students not just my daughter seemed to have so much more stuff than I did all those years ago. Yet, it didn’t seem to make things any better for them. In fact, they looked more stressed than I remembered being on my first day there. At that moment, I wondered what life had in store for my daughter.

Last night I had a dream that I have had many times before. I was back in that same room with my belongings piled on my bed searching for my course book and wondering what classes I would take. I often wondered what this dream meant but when I woke up this morning it became crystal clear to me. We are sometimes teachers in the life, but we are always students in it. We are here taking the most important class ever. We are here to learn to love ourselves. We are here to learn to love everyone as ourselves. And it takes a lifetime. The stuff we carry with us through this life doesn’t matter at all either. It is the stuff we carry inside of us when we leave this life that really counts.

【推荐2】Christmas is perhaps the most important holiday in American culture. On Christmas Eve, children sit out with parents in the living room hanging stockings, setting up a Christmas tree, eating candy canes, and setting up milk and cookies for Santa Claus. Perhaps the most beloved figure in American history, Santa Claus has become an important icon for Christmas.

I remember believing in Santa when I was a very young girl. However, as I grew older, I learned many facts that “proved” his existence as false. Always inquisitive by nature and very keen on the scientific method of experimentation, I was determined to use tests and observations to determine whether Santa Claus was real.

The first year of tests happened when I was 5. I decided that if I stayed up all night on Christmas Eve, I could see if Santa really did come down the chimney. However, that was a futile attempt, I fell asleep that year. The next year, I was able to test if location was an issue with Santa’s deliveries. That year, my family spent Christmas with the family of one of my mother’s friends. At the time, I decided that if Santa was all-knowing he would know I wasn’t home. Sure enough, there was a pretty pink package waiting for me the next morning. At age 7, I came up with my ultimate test to see if Santa was real. That year, I didn’t send out my Christmas letter to Santa. On Christmas Eve, my mother dragged me to our local Wal-Mart and led me around the toy section. I refused to say a word, but did let my eye linger on a ballet set. I figured that “Santa” wouldn’t know what to get me because he shouldn’t be able to read my mind. However, mother would know everything that caught my eye in the store. If I got the ballet set the next morning, I would have my evidence. Christmas morning, there was the ballet set, sitting under the tree. As I didn’t use it much, mother ended up returning it a few days later. She claimed Santa was generous enough to leave a receipt. That was the end to my mission to discover the existence of Santa.

Now, I can look back on all of these with fond nostalgia(怀旧). The magic and mystery of it all made Christmas a fun time. Santa was a big part of my childhood.

【推荐3】I must have looked deep in thought, or as deep in thought as an 11-year-old man could, when my grandmother glanced up from her weeding to ask, "You have something on your mind, don’t you?”

“Yes, I was thinking that someday I want to be an Olympic speed skating champion like my hero, Eric Heiden, I want to be a doctor like my parents and I want to help children in Africa.”

I immediately knew I had confided (吐露) in the right person when a knowing smile broke across her face. “Johann, of course! You can do anything you want to do!” she said simply. And with my grandmother’s support, I set out to pursue my passions.

14 years later, I was well ready to take hold of my first dream: becoming an Olympic champion. The Olympics in 1994 was in my home country, Norway. As I entered the Olympic stadium, I wasn’t the best athlete, and many had doubts about my ability to perform well. But I had something special working for me. I had a woman in the first row who believed in me following my passions just as much as I did. For the first time ever, my grandmother was going to see me skate.

It happened. Breaking a world record, I won the gold.

As I stood on the podium (领奖台) that I had dreamed about my entire life, a curious question popped into my head. Why me? Why did I win, given all the other incredible competitors out there? The reason had to be more than a grandmother who shared a belief in her grandson’s dream. The question led me to only one answer: because I wanted to make a difference in the world, and with all the media attention on my success, I could. I immediately knew what that difference had to be: hope in the lives of the children in Africa.

Six months earlier, I’d been invited to Eritrea as an ambassador(使者) for Olympic Aid.

【推荐1】Jeremy Savage, aged 17, and Ian Marshall, aged 16, went to the Rocky Mountains with their parents for the weekend. On Saturday morning, the two boys decided to climb Cathedral Mountain by themselves while their parents relaxed at the campsite. After three hours, they reached the top with no problems.

However, trouble began when they started the climb down the mountain. On one very dangerous part of the path, Ian fell three metres off the side of the path. Jeremy was able to climb down to where Ian was. Ian was badly injured and could not move. Jeremy had to decide what to do. He needed help, but he did not want to leave his friend. He used water from his own bottle to clean the dirt and blood from Ian’s face and hands. He tried to help Ian stand up, but Ian’s right leg was hurting too much. They had to wait and hope that someone would come and help them.

When the boys did not return to the campsite that evening, their parents became very worried. They got in touch with park workers and began searching for the boys. Soon more than 20 people were looking for the boys.

As night fell, the boys were still missing. While they waited for help to arrive, Jeremy gave Ian his food and water and he let Ian lie on his jacket so he would be more comfortable. As the evening grew darker, Ian told Jeremy to leave him and go back to their parents, but he still did not leave. Jeremy thought it was too dangerous for Ian to be alone. The night was cold and windy, and Jeremy used his jacket and an extra shirt to keep Ian warm.

At sunrise, Jeremy decided that the only way to help his friend was to carry him. So, they started the long climb back to their parents. Sometimes Jeremy carried Ian on his hack. Sometimes he carried him in his arms. Finally, after four hours, they arrived at the campsite where their parents were waiting. “I will always remember what Jeremy did for me,” said Ian. “He saved my life. That is the greatest thing that a person can do for his friend.”

【推荐2】It’s hard to talk to Dad sometimes. His silence about his feelings and thoughts made him mysterious and hard to see through. You could never break his hard shell and get to know him. And he seemed to want to stay that way too.

But a year ago when my relationship with my wife and career took a hit, I needed my dad to pull back the curtain so that I could see him as real and accessible. I was facing serious problems and I wanted to know whether he had faced them before and how he had found his way, because I felt like I had lost mine. In desperation, it occurred to me that sending an email might be the key, so I wrote him one , telling him about my regrets and fears, and I asked him to answer, if he felt like it.

Two weeks later, it showed up in my inbox: a much-thought, three page litter. Dad, a 68 -year old retired technologist and grandfather of four, had carefully considered my message, and crafted a response. He mentioned his lost love, the foolish mistake he made in career and the stupid pride he had between him and his parents. He comforted me that “life will still find its right track despite many of its twists and turns”.

I closed the email and started to cry, because I wished I had opened up earlier but was grateful it wasn’t too late. I cried because at 33, in the midst of my own struggles, his letter instantly put me at ease. And I cried because in the end, it was so simple: I just had to hit “Send”.

We’ve since had many email exchanges. This increasing communication opened a door into his world. My problems haven’t been magically solved, but getting to know my dad better has made the tough thing more manageable and life sweeter. It’s hard to tall to Dad sometimes, but I’m glad I found a way to talk to mine.