When I first moved to the new community, I found it difficult to adapt. Everything was unfamiliar, and I felt like an outsider in a place where everyone seemed to know each other.

One day, I returned from a morning walk with my dog. At the front door, I dug around in my pockets for the keys, only to realize that I had lost them. As all of them are tied together including my car key, I decided to return to the paths we’d taken. I spent an hour looking, brushing aside tall grasses, but the keys remained lost. I was beginning to get upset as I thought of the consequences of losing them, so I continued to retrace our steps, but in vain.

Back home again, I pulled the backup key from its hiding place, let myself in the house, and fell on the chair in exhaustion. The house key wasn’t that important as I had an extra. I had a spare car key, but there was often something wrong with it, and the key would be expensive to replace. The iron heart made by my grandson was precious beyond measure. Thinking of it being gone forever made tears come to my eyes.

That night, it turned colder and we had a snow. Suddenly I heard the noise of my car alarm from the garage. I rushed to the car, put the extra key into the door and finally opened it, and then I hurriedly tried my best to stop the alarm. I felt red-faced as I imagined my next-door neighbors being disturbed and annoyed.

I went back in the house but the alarm started again. I turned it off, went back inside, and the alarm sounded again. I repeated the process. Back in the house, I waited, but the next sound was the front doorbell. Thinking it was a neighbor ready to complain at me, I opened the door cautiously.

Paragraph 1: To my surprise, in the light snow stood three neighbors from several streets away.

Paragraph 2: Feeling grateful and relieved, I invited them inside for a cup of hot tea.

During this past year I’ve had three instances of car trouble. Each time, when these things happened, I was disgusted with the way people didn’t bother to help. The people at the gas stations where I asked for a gas can told me they couldn’t lend it out “for safety reasons,” but that I could buy a coverless can for $15.

But you know who came to my rescue all three times? Immigrants. Mexican immigrants. None of them spoke any English.

One of those guys stopped to help me with the blowout even though he had his whole family of four. I was on the side of the road for three hours with my, big Jeep. I put signs in the windows, big signs that said, “NEED A JACK (千斤顶),” and offered money. Nothing. Right as I was about to give up, a truck pulled over, and the guy jumped off.

He understood the situation and called for his daughter, who spoke English. He conveyed through her that he had a jack. Then we were in business.

I started taking the wheel off, and, if you can believe it, I broke his tire iron. No worries: he ran to the truck and handed it to his wife, and she was gone in a flash to buy a new one. She was back in 15minutes. We finished the job with a little sweat, and I was a very happy man.

The two of us were filthy and sweaty. His wife produced a water jug for us to wash our hands. I tried to put a $20 in the man’s hand, but he wouldn’t take it, so instead I went up to the truck and gave it to his wife as quietly as I could. I asked the little girl where they lived, thinking maybe I’d send them a gift for being so awesome. She said they lived in Mexico. They were in Oregon so Mommy and Daddy could pick cherries for the next few weeks. Then they were going to pick peaches, then go back home. After I said my goodbyes and started walking back to the Jeep, the girl called out and asked if I’d had lunch.

When I told her no, she ran up and handed me a tamale（墨西哥粽）.

He saw the $20 in my hand and just started shaking his head.

Katie was exceptionally small. We were in the fifth grade, but she was as short as a third grader. Although her body was small, Katie was big at heart. She had a sharp mind, too. Sometimes she got her share of teasing, but Katie knew how to handle it. All the kids who knew Katie liked her a lot.

Katie loved helping others in the class, so whenever someone was stuck on the computer he always called her for help and advice. Katie loved jokes and she always had a joke that would cheer someone up whenever he was down. She was truly the most kind and generous friend anyone could ask for.

But the other day she was in big trouble. She was such a sweet girl; a third-grade teacher always dreamed of having a classroom filled with students like Katie. She was never ever a discipline(纪律)problem. I just couldn’t imagine why she had made her parents so angry.

It seemed that Katie had been running up(积欠)sizable charges in the lunchroom. Her parents explained that Katie brought a great homemade lunch each day, and there was no reason for her to buy school lunch. They assumed a sit-down with Katie would solve the problem, but failed. So they asked me to help them get to the bottom of this situation.

So the next day, I asked Katie to my office. “Why are you charging(记账)lunches, Katie? What happens to your homemade lunch?” I asked. “I lose it,” She responded. I leaned back in my chair and said, “I don’t believe you, Katie.” She didn’t care. “Is someone stealing your lunch, Katie?” I took a new track. “No. I just lose it,” she said. Well, there was nothing else I could do.

The problem was still unsolved the next week until I noticed a boy in the school canteen.

When a tornado hit the small town of Otwell, Indiana, many families found themselves completely ruined. Afterwards all the local newspapers carried a lot of human-interest (有人情味的) stories featuring some of the families who suffered the most.

One Saturday, a specific picture deeply touched me. A young woman stood in front of a completely destroyed mobile home, her face overshadowed by a cloud of sadness. Beside her, a young boy, aged six or seven, stood with eyes downward. Clinging to (紧紧抓住) her skirt was a tiny girl who gazed into the camera, her eyes reflecting a mixture of confusion and fear.

The article that went with the picture gave the clothing sizes of each family member. With growing interest, I noticed that their sizes closely matched ours. This would be a golden opportunity to teach my children to help those less lucky than themselves. I stuck the picture of the young family on our refrigerator, explaining their difficulty to my eight-year-old Brad and also to my three-year-old Meghan.

“These poor people have lost everything,” I shared. “Let’s extend a helping hand.” Then, I brought three large boxes down from the room upstairs and placed them in the living room. Meghan observed (观察) the process seriously, as Brad and I filled one of the boxes with canned goods and foods.

While I sorted through our clothes, I encouraged Brad to go through his toys and donate some of his less favorite stuffs. Meghan watched quietly as her brother piled up his less cherished old toys and games.

To my surprise, Meghan walked up with her favorite Barbie doll tightly hugged. She came to the box that held the toys, pressed her round little face into Barbie’s pretty little face, gave her a final kiss, and then laid her gently on top of the other toys.

“Oh, Honey,” I sighed. “You don’t have to give away Barbie. She means so much to you.”

Meghan nodded seriously, tears held back in her eyes. “Barbie makes me happy, Mommy. Maybe she’ll make that other little girl happy, too.”

Brad had watched, open-mouthed, as his baby sister placed her favorite Barbie doll in the box.

I didn’t know the lady, but I saw her often around town with her two small children. She appeared to be shy, always looking down, trying not to make eye contact. She often wore the same clothes, and so did her children. I felt her discomfort when I saw her at the supermarket checkout. She reminded me of myself years ago. We had to go through a tough time.

Back then, I couldn’t afford a new winter coat for my daughter, and I didn’t know what I was going to do. Luckily, my three younger children could wear hand-me-downs. One night, I said to myself in my heart that I wished someone to offer me help. I did it for the first time since my husband’s unemployment.

The next morning, a neighbour came into the place where I worked. “I know you must feel unbelievable, This morning, I had an overwhelming(无法抗拒的)feeling that you needed this,” she whispered. She insisted on giving me twenty dollars. My eyes started to tear as she continued, “I also have a box of clothes in my car that I was going to donate. Please take what you need. “It was really a shock of getting her help. Was this the response to my word the night before?

Going through the large box of clothes, I found several winter items for my children, including a dark purple jacket that looked like it would fit my daughter. Although grateful, I felt embarrassed. The woman must have sensed my discomfort. She raised my chin so I could look at her. “We all need help at one time or another,” she said. “One day, you’ll be the one helping someone in need.”

I thanked her and promised I would always try to pay it forward.

Looking at the lady at the supermarket checkout, I knew perhaps it was the proper time.

Jose was a devoted teacher for a local high school in California. Unfortunately, with the money he carned, he couldn’t support his family and extended family in Mexico and rent an apartment in California at the same time. Therefore, having failed to afford the rental of even a shoe-box apartment, he had no choice but to live in his old car occasionally to make ends meet until he could find another place to live.

To make matters worse, he found himself living this unfortunate lifestyle after the pandemic swept the world when California schools closed their doors following the outbreak. This left Jose with little means for making money. So at age 77, Jose ended up living inside of his car. For about two years he was homeless. Home was his car, and his car sat in a grocery store parking lot. During daytime he drove to different locations, looking for job opportunities while he spent most of his nights at the same parking lot, which gave him a sense of belonging.

At daytime, he would lean his seat all the way back, so no one would see him because he knew he wasn’t supposed to be there and worried that the manager of the grocery store would drive him away. He was a man of self-respect and didn’t want to turn to charity.

When Maggie, the manager of the grocery store, did see Jose, she felt he looked familiar because she used to be in his class many years ago. She could still remember how Jose encouraged her to finish her education when she was struggling with her learning. She noticed Jose spent a considerable amount of time in his car, she suspected her teacher had fallen on hard times. She became determined to help her former teacher in his time of need. So, the former student decided to repay the favor and help her homeless teacher.

One morning, Maggie knocked at the window of the car. Jose rolled down the window and apologized to the lady standing by his car. He said he would drive away soon to make room for other customers. Tears in eyes, Maggie asked him whether he still remembered her. Jose was puzzled at first but soon recognized her. Embarrassed, he told Maggie about his situation. Maggie took out an envelope which contained $ 500. Hardly had Maggie uttered a word and handed it the envelope to Jose when the teacher rolled up the car window.

Seeing Jose refused the money, Maggie wanted to help him without hurting his feelings.