Positive Action Fuels Hope

“I’m not going back to group therapy (治疗). I refuse to be treated like that.” The voice was so loud that I had to hold the phone away from my ear.

Alicia Gonzalez suffered from depression. This was her second month at the homeless shelter, where I work as a case manager.

Alicia had been a nurse for 10 years. Her work was intense and demanding, and she loved it. To her, the trauma (精神创伤) she’d suffered was that her son lost his life in a car crash. With her brain overloaded by the trauma, she couldn’t focus on her work. Finally, she had to quit her job. With no income, she couldn’t pay her rent. For almost three years, Alicia lived in her truck. Alicia told me all this at our first meeting.

“I want to help you,” I said. “There are lots of resources here. All I ask is that you tell me what’s going on with you. That way I can make sure you’re getting the services you need.”

“I’ll try,” she said. “It’s just hard. I used to feel as though what I did mattered. Now...” Her voice became quiet. Before I could say something, she stood and walked out of the room.

Two months later, I still felt as if I hadn’t gotten through to Alicia. Sometimes the things sending her into a violent anger were so minor—a piece of rubbish someone had dropped on the floor—it was hard for me to think of coping skills that didn’t sound like I was criticizing her.

Maybe this latest talk in group therapy was the last straw (稻草). “Finding something small you can feel good about can help you cope with anger,” I suggested. “It doesn’t need to be some huge thing.” Even as I said it, I wondered, “Was that really the best advice I could come up with?” Alicia took a long deep breath. “I know,” she said.

A few weeks later, I saw her in the hallway with a rubbish bag.

In March, Alicia was offered a job doing housekeeping at the shelter.

Jack was a bright and curious child, always eager to learn new things and explore the mysterious world about science. However, he often found himself in disagreement with his mother. His mother was always busy with her work and she didn’t have enough time to learn about his interests and passions.

One day, Jack came home from school feeling particularly excited. He just found a sci-fi book about an adventure on the moon. Upon arriving at home, he couldn’t tear himself away from the book. He read and read until it was dark. Having finished reading it, he couldn’t wait to share it with his mother, only to be told that he should focus on more practical subjects like math and history, which would help him get into a good college and have a successful career.

Jack couldn’t understand why his mother didn’t see the value in what he was doing. He felt that she was holding him back and not allowing him to pursue his true interests. “Why can’t you see how important this is to me?” Jack asked his mother angrily. “I’m never going to be happy if I have to spend my life doing things that I show no interest in just because they are practical or make you proud.”

The once peaceful home was filled with tension and anger. His mother’s voice grew louder as she shouted, “You can’t just do whatever you want! You should be responsible for your future!” Jack, fueled by his own frustration, shot back, “I am tired of you always telling me what to do! I am not a child anymore! You only care about your own feeling! You never thought about my feeling!” They were so caught up in their own anger and hurt that they failed to see how their words and actions were affecting each other.

Jack rushed into his bedroom and locked the door heavily.

When Jack heard his mother’s words, regretful tears rolled down his face.

The Doctor’s Son

My parents moved to the small town Enosburg when I was still a baby. A soft-spoken man, my father settled quietly into his medical practice. Within a few months the people of Enosburg accepted him as one of their own. The neighbors greeted my father as “Doctor Eppley”. And I always was known as “Doctor Eppley’s son”.

Throughout the first years of my life, I never tired of letting others know that my father was one of the town’s most respected citizens. Somewhere in my teenage years, however, something changed. I was 16 years old and the neighbors still called me “Doctor Eppley’s son”. They said that I was growing up to be an honorable young man just like my father. I complained whenever I heard these words. So when strangers asked me if I was Doctor Eppley’s son, I replied, “My name is Harold.”

I survived my last year of high school. The next fall I went to college. I chose to attend a school far from Enosburg, a place where nobody called me “Doctor Eppley’s son” because nobody knew my father.

I returned home for winter break that year feeling proud of myself. In four months at college, I had become popular in my own right, without my father’s help.

For two weeks I enjoyed being back in Enosburg. The main topic of interest at home was my father’s new car.

“Let me take it out for a drive,” I said.

My father agreed, but not without his usual warning, “Be careful!”

“All right then,” he replied. “The keys are in the kitchen.”

I got into the car and drove a few miles and then stopped at a busy intersection in a nearby town. As I stepped on the accelerator(油门), my mind went blank, and I failed to hear the loud high noise of brakes(刹车)in front of me. I only heard a great crash as I reacted too late.

The woman in the car I had struck jumped out of her vehicle unhurt.

On hearing what I had just said, the woman gave me a smile of recognition.

In a small town, there lived a young girl named Emily. She had a deep passion for table tennis and dreamed of becoming a professional player. Despite her young age, she was determined to work hard and make her dream come true.

From the moment when Emily picked up a table tennis paddle, she was impressed by the sport. She spent every spare moment practicing her shots, focusing on her footwork and mastering different techniques. Each time she stepped on the court, she was eager to improve and pushed herself to the limit. Unluckily, Emily faced a visual impairment (缺陷) that threatened to slow her progress. She was born with a condition that affected her sight. Some people doubted her ability to play table tennis and said, “Emily, your impairment is a disadvantage. It is impossible to play table tennis well!”

But Emily refused to let their doubts consume her. With solid determination, Emily turned her impairment into strength. She used her other heightened senses to her advantage, relying on touch and sound to anticipate her opponents’ moves. While others relied on sight, she developed an incredible sense of intuition (直觉) and strategy.

Emily finally excelled in table tennis, achieving incredible milestones and representing her town in many competitions. She became an advocate of the sport in her town. However, Emily decided not to settle for winning in her comfort zone but to challenge for something higher. She joined a training team guided by a world-class coach, which brought together the world’s top table tennis players.

In the training team, Emily went through a series of trials. She carried out high-intensity training. She needed to improve not only the batting skills but also perseverance and the sense of teamwork. Her coach often encouraged her and said, “Anyone, regardless of ability, could find success.”

A few years later, Emily’s efforts paid off. She got her chance. As a member of the national team, she took part in an important international competition. That was the stage for her to show her skills, and it was also the important moment for her to realize her dream.

In the competition, Emily found herself facing a strong opponent, Lily.

After the competition, Emily’s story spread throughout the table tennis community.

We call Talent Show the biggest stage in our country. I stood on that huge stage, with my throat dry. As I stared at the audience, I knew this moment could change my life forever. When judges asked my name and I tried to speak,nothing came out. The crowd fell silent, waiting for the words to come. Finally I stuttered(结巴地说) my name and my age. “As you can tell,” I said, “I have a speech disorder…”

I’d love to sing and had already signed up for the school talent show in fourth grade when I started stuttering.Fortunately, most of the kids at my school were kind, and I was rarely made fun of. I tried speech therapy too, but it didn’t help. I feared to sing in the school talent show. Therefore, I decided to practice at home. To my surprise, the words came smoothly when I sang. And then I decided to learn to play the guitar, which was given as a birthday gift by my father.

One afternoon, I walked into the basement, where I kept my musical equipment. My eyes lit on the guitar. I picked it up and started playing. I opened my mouth, and the words came flooding out. Then I wrote a song called I Will Trust,telling the pain IP’d experienced. The next day, I filmed a video of performing the song and posted it online. Hundreds of strangers left comments that I had uplifted them with my music. Ever since, I’ve been writing songs.

Last year, I started college and majored in music production. When I saw Talent Show audition(试唱)announcement pop up on my computer, I wanted to have a try. Several months later, I was standing on that stage, trying to calm my nerves as I introduced myself, “I have a speech impediment.” I said, “It was definitely something that caused me to…” I took a long pause to find the words. “…to hide. But I found that I don’t stutter when I sing.”

Then I began to sing a new song I’d just written.

My performance on Talent Show had a deep influence on me.

I like staying overnight at my Gramma’s house — that is, until Gramma starts telling me how wonderful my cousin Maya is. Then it’s Maya this and Maya that until I don’t ever want to hear another word about her.

That’s why I wasn’t too excited when Gramma called me on the phone to “come on over and bring your pajamas.” When I got there, it was worse than I’d expected. There, in Grandpa’s big leather rocker, sat Maya, all dressed up and formal-looking and wearing fancy shoes as if she’d just been to a party.

“Surprise, Kristen!” Gramma said. “Your cousin Maya and her parents have traveled in from the East Coast on business. Maya gets to stay with us this afternoon.” Gramma chattered away about how excited she’d been for this surprise get-together, and how cousins ought to get to know each other better.

I hung my baseball cap in the closet and set my backpack by the stairway, all the time smiling and nodding as if I’d been waiting forever for this chance to spend an afternoon with Maya. Grandpa’s chair squawked (咯咯叫) as Maya rocked back and forth. It’s the chair I like best in the house, the one I usually sit in. I sat down on the sofa across from her.

Shortly, Gramma went off to the kitchen to “see about some lunch,” she’d said. That left me stuck in the living room with rocking Maya.

She was still small but taller than I’d remembered her from her last visit four years ago. She was good at small talk, though, and was chatting away about how nice it was to see me again. But I could tell that she didn’t really think so. The last time she was here, we’d had hours of fun together building caves out of Gramma’s sofa pillows.

After that, I’d heard about her only through Gramma’s tales. Maya taking piano lessons. Maya learning math. Maya, Maya, Maya. Now Maya was here, looking great with the latest haircut and a fancy dress.

Glancing down at my jeans and my old sneakers, I wished I hadn’t come.

“How do you know all these things about me?” I asked.

When I was a child, my mother told my sister, who had a 10-inch very obvious scar (伤疤) on her arm, “Nancy, if you ignore the scar, other people will ignore it. It does not mean they will not notice it, but it means it will not matter to them if it doesn’t matter to you.”

It never occurred to me that something like this would happen to my son years later. Sending a child off to college can certainly be stressful for concerned parents. It was in 2018 that my son went off to college. He rarely contacted us. I couldn’t help asking about other aspects, which sometimes made him complain that I didn’t treat him as an adult.

To be honest, my son is excellent. Some of my friends always tell me that they admire my son’s characters and they hope their sons could have some of them.

Unexpectedly, it was 4 o’clock in the morning in 2020, when I received the phone call. “This is the emergency room calling and your son was just brought in with severe burns on his face, neck and arms. We have called for an aircraft and are going to fly him to the burn unit in Seattle.” Seattle was 350 miles from his college, so we knew immediately this was serious.

The doctor described the reason, which caused the burns. At 6 am, my son and his friends decided to barbecue hamburgers in the courtyard of their apartment. When they lit the charcoal, it burst into flames because they had sprayed too much gasoline. The flames caught my son’s shirt tail and shot from his waist to well over his head.

Fortunately, one of the boys who was quick-minded grasped my son and rolled him on the grass. While it saved his life, it was not in shape to save him from severe burns and terrible scars.

After he recovered from the treatments, the doctors told him they would not do plastic surgery for 6 months because it takes that long for the skin to stop shrinking and wrinkling.

The doctors suggested he return to college with scars of severe burns temporarily.

So I told him about Nancy’s childhood.