Holidays are not necessarily for fun or rest. Doing something meaningful can also gain special pleasure. When the final bell rang, the students were reminded that there was no school on Monday—the Labor Day. “Enjoy your extra day off” said the teacher to her class.

An extra day off unsuited Kayla just fine. She loved breaks. She wanted to go out to play with her friends. When the school bus dropped Kayla off, she ran into the house happily.

“How was school, Kayla?” asked her mom.

“It was great, Mom. I am excited about no school on Monday.”

“You just started back to school two weeks ago. Already in need of a break, huh?” asked Kayla’s mom with a laugh.

Kayla slept in the next morning. Saturday was her favorite day of the week. I trained most of the day, so Kayla enjoyed playing videogames inside. On Sunday, her friends came over and they played basketball for several hours.

Then it was Labor Day, you know, the extra day off that Kayla was so looking forward to. But Kayla was awakened early that morning by her dad. He told Kayla that in honor of Labor Day, the family would be cleaning both inside and outside the house. Kayla couldn’t believe it. This was a holiday. A day when she was supposed to be enjoying freshly squeezed lemonade while playing in her tree house. As Kayla wiped here yes, she began to wonder if this was just a bad dream.

“Kayla, your breakfast is ready. We have a lot of work to do today. Let’s get a move on,” said Kayla’s mom. As she sat down at the kitchen table, Kayla asked her parents，

“Are you serious about working today? Isn’t Labor Day a holiday?”

“Yes, Kayla. It is,” replied her dad. “But your mom and I thought working hard today would make you appreciate why Labor Day was observed in the first place.”

At first Kayla felt disappointed at her parents’ plan for the holiday.

But things began to change as she was doing the chores.

In the first grade in senior high school, I was extremely shy, I had friends, but it just wasn’t in my personality to be very outgoing, even when I knew someone. I was afraid I would do or say something wrong, so usually I just smiled and listened to other people’s conversations.

I did well in school and I loved to write. However, I would escape into my writing, where I could be myself and never had to worry about what other people thought of me. In my stories, I was never shy, I often imagined that I was the main character in the story. My teacher, Mrs. Sather, always encouraged me to write more and be myself. She told our class to go after our dreams and dig in with great efforts. I thoughts he was one of the first people to see my inner strength.

One day, she showed us a play she had written and announccd that our class was going to perform it. “I’ll begin to choose all the performers tomorrow” she said, “I need someone who is not afraid to be onstage in front of a lot of people to play the lead part of Dorothy. Anybody wants to try?” A few excited hands shot up -mine, of course, was not one of them and Mrs. Sather smiled. “We’ll talk more about it later,” she said. Then the bell rang and my classmates slowly left the classroom.

“I will never do that,” I thought. But after rereading the play, I was deeply attracted by the story and couldn’t help imagining myself to be the main character Dorothy. There seemed to be a new person inside me, a much more daring, outgoing person who had been hidden all along, just waiting for the opportunity to appear. However, I still felt shy and could never picture myself acting in a play in front of two hundred people. Having struggled for a few minutes, I still did not know how to make the decision.

When I was packing my schoolbag, Mrs Sather asked me to go to her.

One week later, it was time for me to perform on the stage.

7 . With Christmas approaching, I often reflect upon one particular evening in the early 1960s. Back then, we decided to go carolling (唱圣诞颂歌) to spread the Christmas spirit which might ________ someone else’s life. So we needed to take ________ new members, for whom the only ________ was warmth of spirit.

Soon we discovered that carolling brought various ________. Sometimes we were greeted with open doors and open hearts, while other times, folks remained in the safety and cosiness of their homes, watching ________ through their windows.

One stop on our journey particularly ________ our memory. That night, after a couple of songs, one door swung open. A gentleman, gray haired, tenderly ________we go upstairs to sing for his bedridden wife. He added ________, “She loves music and used to be an opera singer.”

We stepped briskly upward into the couple’s ________ apartment. Books, records, and antique furniture whispered stories to us. I reminded myself not to stare ________ showing disrespect to them.

Sitting beside his wife, the gentleman gave us a ________. Then our voices rose and lingered around their small home. Had our voices been given extra ________ and beauty for this occasion? Perhaps they had.

A smile flickered on the woman’s ________, yet beautiful face. She snuggled her head against her husband’s shoulder and both of them heartily enjoyed our performance. Witnessing such a heartwarming scene, we felt it was a holy night, for we were in the ________ of love that was gentle and mild.

At that moment, we found, and maybe even _______, the Christmas spirit.

9 . In 1990, Hal Donaldson was 23 years old, fresh out of college and found himself in Calcutta, India, where he was asked to interview Mother Teresa.

Donaldson says about the great woman famed for feeding the hungry, “She wasn’t wearing shoes and her ankles were swollen. She sat down with me and was very polite.” After the interview, Mother Teresa asked him, “What are you doing to help the poor?” Donaldson admitted that he was young and wasn’t focused on helping others. With a smile on her face, Mother Teresa said, “Everyone can do something.”

Those words deeply struck Donaldson and forced him to face hard truths about himself.

Hal Donaldson grew up in the San Francisco Bay area. When he was 12 years old, his parents were hit by a drunk driver; his father died, and his mother was seriously injured. To make ends meet, they went on welfare. Donaldson says, “I had holes in my shoes and clothes. When you’re teased at school for that, you just want to escape.”

He managed to do just that. Donaldson got into college and turned his focus to making money for himself. He says, “I was just trying to find my way out of insignificance.” However, it’s easy to overlook others along the way. I was the guy that would see a homeless person and cross the street, so I didn’t have to confront (面对) him. My focus was on climbing to the top instead of helping those trying to climb with me.

Donaldson returned home from India with a different thought. He traveled to eight cities in America and stayed on the streets and listened to stories of the homeless. “My heart broke,” he says. “I knew I could no longer just live for myself.”

Inspired by Mother Teresa’s words and the stories he’d heard across America, Donaldson loaded a pick up truck with $300 worth of groceries and handed them out to anyone who needed help. In 1994, Donaldson created the nonprofit organization, Convoy for Hope, which works with communities across America and around the world. Their work focuses on feeding children, women’s empowerment, helping farmers and disaster services.

A Little Boy

A little boy selling magazines for school walked up to a house that people rarely visited. The house was very old and shabby and the owner hardly ever came out. When he did come out, he would not say hello to his neighbors or passers-by but simply just glared at them.

The boy knocked on the door and waited, sweating from fear of the old man. The boy’s parents told him to stay away from the house, and a lot of other neighborhood children were told the same thing from their parents.

Dusk found the boy lingering on and hesitating what to do. As he was ready to walk away, the door slowly opened. “What do you want?” the old man said impatiently. The little boy was very afraid but he had a quota (定额) to meet for school with selling the magazines. So he got up the courage and said, “Uh, Sir, I am selling these magazines and, uh, I was wondering if you would like to buy one from me.”

The old man just stared at the boy without a word. The boy could see inside the old man’s house and saw that he had dog figurines (小雕像) on the fireplace mantle. “Do you collect dogs?” The little boy asked. “Yes, I have many collections in my house. They are my family here and they are all I have.” The boy then felt sorry for the man, as it seemed that he was a very lonely soul.

“Well, I do have a magazine here for collectors. It is perfect for you. I also have one about dogs since you like dogs so much.” The old man was ready to close the door on the boy and said, “No, boy. I don’t need any magazines of any kind, now goodbye.”

The little boy was sad that he was not going to make his quota with the sale. He was also sad for the old man being so alone in the house that he owned. The boy went home and then had an idea. He had a little dog figurine that he got some years ago from an aunt. The figurine did not mean nearly as much to him since he had a real live dog and a large family.

The little boy headed back down to the old man’s house.

From that day on something changed inside the old man.