Spreading Joy

This past Christmas season began for me as usual on the day after Thanksgiving, Black Friday. My mom, sister, and I had gotten up early to go shopping. As we were driving out of a store parking lot, we caught sight of a dreadfully thin woman sitting on a walker. She was clearly homeless, with bird feathers stuck into her gray hair, and a dirty yellow raincoat.

That homeless woman got us thinking about what Christmas would be like for some one who has no place to call home. With no family to turn to and certainly no presents to open on Christmas morning, these people have nothing to look forward to but the cold and lonely place where they choose to camp. Even though we live in sunny California, the temperature can still fall below freezing on winter nights. Where would this woman sleep when the sun went down?

Sadly, homeless people are a common sight in our town. On our way home, we passed countless people pushing shopping carts overflowing with their belongings and people standing in the center dividers of roads holding cardboard signs with “Just Hungry” written on them.

The next day, my mom had a great idea. While we were out Christmas shopping, we purchased some blue tins (罐) of sugar cookies and a few boxes of candy canes. When we got home, I helped my mom carefully ti e each tin with a red ribbon and tape a candy cane on top. Next, we wrote “Call 211 for Help” on notes and taped them to the bottoms of the tins. “Not only will we be spreading Christmas cheer, but now the homeless people will have a number to call and get the help they need,” my mom explained as we worked.

We put all the tins in the car and, whenever we went for a drive, we searched the streets for individuals down on their luck. Usually, the streets are crowded with people carrying sleeping bags, but somehow when you are looking for something, it always seems to disappear.

Eventually, we found a young man sleeping in the Lowe’s parking lot.

The day before Christmas, we drove around the streets again with our final tin.

My husband had taken the car to see about a job and I stayed at the rest area with our six children. I kept them busy playing games and reading books. I prayed as hard as I could that my husband would get the job and this madness would all come to an end. When he came back and hard closed the car door, I knew the news was not good.

That night, one of the churches in Portland had a free dinner, so we hurried and had the children wash up in the bathrooms. We all loaded up in our run-down car. No one would get thrilled about a hot meal, but being homeless, we all knew what a treat this would be.

In the morning, we were all just as tired as when we went to bed. It’s not easy at all to sleep eight people in one car. It’s hard to stay warm with only the few blankets we had to share among us. We got in the car and left to make a garbage dump run.

As my husband looked for work every day, my children and I would walk around the city picking up cans and bottles to return for the deposit (押金). When nothing else worked, my husband and I would stand with a sign that read, “will work for food.” It was an embarrassment and we felt so ashamed. I never looked up at anyone, pretending that I was elsewhere and this was not happening. But we had to survive, and for the sake of our kids we would do whatever it took to get them food to eat.

Thanksgiving Day was drawing near and it was turning colder and colder. My husband had not found work and we were at a loss as how to gather up enough money for a house rent. It looked so hopeless.

On the evening before Thanksgiving, we went to the only church having Thanksgiving dinner for the homeless. Unluckily, our car broke down. My husband worked on it, but in vain.

A truck driver just came over to help.

People stopped by with food and blankets as well as some clothes.

Natasha Steer and her son Zac were about to miss their bus. As she turned the corner, she called back over her shoulder. “Zac, PLEASE. We’re going to miss it!” They were walking from their hotel in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, and Zac was dragging behind. It was hot and his bag was heavy, but Steer kept up the pace — they’d be left behind otherwise.

“My stomach hurts!” Zac’s voice came from too far behind her. She turned, impatient. “I know, but we really need to keep going, OK?”

“OK …but it really hurts …”

She turned to keep walking, assuming that if she kept up the pace he’d speed it up, too. She felt bad. Her nine-year-old son was rightfully uncomfortable under his backpack and the hot sun during a long walk, and a stomach ache on top of that couldn’t be pleasant. Still, they needed to make this bus to Ho Chi Min City. He’d be able to rest once we sat down.

She sped up as they neared the bus stop, eyes searching the platforms until they landed with relief on their bus. She turned to see Zac dragging himself up the sidewalk, leaving her pack on the ground before walking back toward him. She took his bag off so she could carry it the rest of the way.

“Does it still hurt?” asked Steer.

He nodded. “I don’t feel good.”

Steer handed Zac some water and told him he would feel better if they got on the bus and she carried their backpacks to the bus, leaving them in the pile with the others while she searched her pocket for their bus tickets.

On the bus and in their seats, she handed Zac the water bottle one more time. He leaned his head on her shoulder, closing his eyes. Suddenly, Zac doubled over, vomiting onto his feet.

“Oh no — hold on!” she moved quickly to get him a bag to vomit (呕吐) in, saving his feet and the floor from some of the mess. He looked up, apologetic, and Steer felt the eyes of everyone on the bus on them. “Don’t worry about it honey, it doesn’t matter — do you feel better? Here — have some water.”

As she twisted off the cap, Zac began to throw up again — only this time, there was no bag. Moving quickly to help him, Steer knocked over the two-liter water bottle.

She felt flurried (慌乱) as the bus attendant came up to see what was happening.

Learning about Zac’s serious conditions, all other passengers did what Steer unexpected.

It was almost New Year’s Eve, and as I made my way home from work, I decided to stop at the neighborhood coffee shop in our town—a town that had previously been busy and wealthy but was now poor and deserted. After parking in a parking lot that was close to the coffee shop, I headed toward the shop door when I spotted trouble.

What lit a warning light in my mind was a group of teenagers—three boys and a girl, each of whom stood on a skateboard. I wasn’t alarmed by the way they were dressed, which showed they seemed to be a group of bad teenagers. Rather, it was the extremely late hour and the fact that they wandered on the sidewalk in a half circle around an elderly man sitting in a chair that raised a red flag in my mind. Wearing only a very worn-out shirt and without shoes on his feet, the old man looked positively cold and probably homeless.

He was in trouble with a capital T. Against my better judgment, I went inside the warm store and ordered nice bread and a cup of coffee while keeping a worried eye on the group outside. Thoughts raced through my mind, and I was wondering what the intentions of these teenagers were. “What do the teenagers want on earth? Do they intend to play a bad trick on the old man, make fun of him, or…?” I wondered, anxious. “Whatever it is, they seem to plan to do something bad to him. Oh, these kids seem to be mean,” I thought and felt upset.

But nothing seemed to be happening. Slightly relieved, I began to enjoy my food. However, minutes after I finished my food and headed toward my car, something indeed was “going down”. I heard one boy say, “Stand up and walk.” “Oh, no,” I thought. “The old man is now in real trouble.”

But wait, I had misjudged the situation.

I looked down, finding the teen was wearing nothing on his feet.

“No, little girl. You can’t get in without the money.” Jeffrey, the bus driver, told a little girl who wanted to get on the bus but only had a few pennies. She must have been around seven years old, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with unaccompanied children that day.

“Please, sir. I want to visit my grandmother,” the little girl begged. “Then go ask your parents for the money and come back next time,” Jeffrey replied and gestured with his hand for the girl to get out. She finally left the bus with her shoulders lowered. Jeffrey saw her sit down at the bus stop and drove off.

He finished his route and went home for the lunch, greeting his wife, Greta, and sitting down on the couch to rest. When he browsed his Facebook posts, an image caught his attention. A picture was shared of the little girl he had just turned away a few hours earlier. The word “Missing” was written on top of the image. He learned that the girl had disappeared a day ago, and her parents were desperately trying to find her.

“Dear! What have I done?” he asked himself, standing up and going to the front door. When Greta asked where he was going, Jeffrey said, “Greta! Quick! Call 911 and this number,” showing her the picture of the girl. “I saw this girl at a bus stop earlier, and I turned her away because she didn’t have enough money. I’m going to find her, but please make those calls.” Having told her where the bus stop was, he went out.

Jeffrey rushed to his car, speeding to the bus stop. Hopefully, the girl was smart enough to stay in one place. He couldn’t believe how careless he had been earlier. She was a little girl all alone. As he drove to the bus stop, Jeffrey vowed to be more careful in the future, especially when it came to children.

Finally, Jeffrey saw a tiny figure sitting on the bench at the spot.

A few minutes later, the police and another car approached.

Lani Williams and her mother, Sincerity, have lived in the historic town of Lahaina on the Hawaiian island of Maui for most of their lives.

Last week, as wildfires began to destroy their beloved town, both the mother and daughter jumped in their car to escape.

Embers (灰烬) were already falling down on them. So Lani got her mom into the car. But then the traffic already stood still. Then she saw another fire beside them on a whole house. Lani thought they were going to die in the car.

Lani and her mom determined the only way out of the fire’s path was to get out of their car and climb over a nearby seawall, into the ocean water.

That escape route, though, proved too difficult as Sincerity has trouble walking and uses a walker for assistance.

As Lani and Sincerity was thinking what to do, a man, a complete stranger, came to their aid.

The man, later identified as Benny Reinicke, told Sincerity to lean on his back so that he could carry her over the seawall and into the water.

He said, “Auntie, put your weight on me. I got you there.”

Reinicke carried Sincerity on his back over the seawall, and then stayed with Sincerity and her daughter in the ocean water for over eight hours as they waited for the fires to die out.

“I just kept thinking to myself, like, this is a young guy that could have just left. He could have swum around to safety, leaving us behind,” Lani said. “But he didn’t. He stayed with us the whole entire time and made sure that all of us were safe.”

After they made it out of the ocean to safety, Lani and Sincerity lost touch with Reinicke.

When everything came to normal, Sincerity told her daughter that they should find Reinicke and say thank you to him. Lani tried her neighborhood for some information about Reinicke but she found nothing.

So Lani decided to turn to the social media.

Lani told Reinicke that she and her mother would arrange a face-to-face meeting with him.

My bike raced through the quiet streets of my hometown as I mentally went through my arrangements for the day. There were a few tasks I needed to finish: borrowing a book, getting a haircut, and most importantly, visiting my beloved former middle school teacher, Mrs. Miles, before the day was over. It happened to be Teachers’ Day, and I wanted to show my appreciation by giving her a meaningful gift. However, I was still unsure about what to present to her.

As I turned onto a busy street lined with houses, it seemed that on the front lawn (草坪) of the gray house in the middle of the block was an old man who appeared to slump (倒下) in a breathtaking garden. Shocked, I stopped my bike, running towards him and shouting, “Sir, are you okay? Is everything all right?” I got close enough to notice his stooping (佝偻的) figure was actually alive and was pushing something into the dirt.

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” he laughed. “Just a lonely old man taking care of his garden.” He looked very weak and already had a stoop. I was concerned about his bending over so much to do gardening. “I’ve been out here for weeks at a time every spring for about the past ten years, and no one has ever stopped,” he said, “Don’t you have anyone to help you?” I asked, immediately regretting the question as a look of sadness passed over his face.

“It’s just me and my flowers,” he said, “My grandchildren used to play here every summer. My wife would bring out lemonade (柠檬水), and we would all sit together, enjoying the beauty of the flowers. But then, within a year, my son moved away with the grandchildren, and my wife passed away.” My heart went out to him as I got a sense of what the garden meant to him. “I can push my to-do list off by an hour,” I thought. With a smile, I asked, “Can you ask your flowers if they wouldn’t mind my joining you guys for a while?”

Amused, he introduced himself as Mr. Jenkins and accepted my offer.

When I got up to leave, he added, “Hold on. I’ll give you some flowers”

Growing up in a coastal town in San Francisco, Christian had a special love for the ocean and its creatures. He had always found joy in the rhythmic tides and the ocean waves against the shore. The salty wind and the cries of the seagulls (海鸥) had been like a comforting song to him during his childhood.

However, all these changed over the years. Every time he wandered along the familiar stretch of sand, his heart sank. The once charming beach was now littered with plastic bags, bottles and other wastes, a distinctive contrast to the natural beauty that had always absorbed him.

The sight was a painful reminder of the harm the locals were bringing to the very land where he was growing up. Christian felt a deep sense of loss and responsibility. Previously, he had seen the news reports about the severe effects of plastic pollution on the oceans, and the images of sea creatures stuck in plastic wastes haunted (萦绕于脑际) him.

Determined to make a change, Christian decided to take action. He knew he couldn’t solve this problem alone, but he could start something that might grow into a powerful movement. With the passion and belief of a young man who loved his ocean and his land deeply, he founded an organization called Waves of Change. The early days presented challenges in calling on volunteers.

He began by reaching out to the students in his school. He shared the shocking reality of the polluted beaches and the urgent need to reduce plastic litter. To his delight, gradually more and more schoolmates started showing interest in the organization and many were eager to join in the cause. They were all too familiar with the beauty of the ocean and were equally saddened by the damage they had witnessed. As high school students, Christian and other members properly allocates (分配) time to balance the cause and their academic work.

Together, Christian and other members did a lot of things in their free time.

Their efforts finally paid off.

In the small town of Riverdale, life was never easy for 17-year-old Emily. Her family had faced financial struggles since her father’s business went down, leaving them in debt. To make matters worse, Emily's mother had fallen ill, adding medical bills to their list of concerns. Despite these challenges, Emily refused to let adversity define her. She worked tirelessly after school to support her family and kept up with her studies, determined to secure a scholarship for college.

One day, as she was browsing the internet for potential scholarship opportunities, Emily came across an article about a local charity event that offered a full scholarship to the winner of a talent competition. Without hesitation, she decided to enter the talent competition. Emily was an accomplished pianist, having practiced piano for hours every day throughout her childhood. She poured her heart into practicing for the competition, hoping it would be her ticket to a better future.

On the day of the competition, Emily felt a mix of nerves and excitement. She watched as other contestants showcased their talents—some sang, others danced, and a few of the contestants played instruments. When it was her turn, Emily took a deep breath and began to play. Her fingers moved gracefully over the keys, and the melody filled the room. She was nearly absorbed in the pieces that she had practiced hundreds of times. As the last note echoed, the audience erupted in applause.

The judges discussed for a while before finally announcing the winner. To Emily’s dismay, she didn’t win the scholarship. The judges praised her performance but said they were looking for something “different” this year. Emily left the event feeling defeated, wondering when she would ever escape her difficult circumstances.

Despite not winning the scholarship, Emily realized that sometimes, when one door closes, another opens. Her perseverance and determination had led her to a path she never could have imagined.

As she walked home, lost in thought, a stranger approached her.

Emily was overjoyed and gratefully accepted the judge’s offer.