2 . For years going home for the holidays has been bittersweet. I appreciate the opportunity to spend quality time with my mom but it is painful for me to see her house littered with stuff.Clothes bought but never worn, and new items in their original packaging carelessly purchased and never used. It’s evident that seeing the stuff on a daily basis reminds my mom of a time when shopping was her way of spending money.

I didn’t fully understand the extent to which my mom was suffering until this week, when I saw piles of clothes on her bed. “How do you manage to sleep every night with all that stuff, Mom?” I asked. To my horror, she replied, “I do it because I know I have to get rid of all this stuff eventually; I am punishing myself by sleeping with them until I do that. ”

Shocked and upset, I gently explained to her that punishing herself was only to make things worse,and that everybody deserves a place to sleep in peace, no matter what mistakes they’ve made. I suggested she move all the stuff upstairs, leaving her room comfortable to sleep in.

With patience and her slow but steady guidance, I helped her go through some of the piles and move them upstairs. For the rest of the week I stayed there, she was in a better mood and was excited about going through the rest of the house to finally get rid of her stuff—past mistakes and painful times. The items brought back painful memories as we inspected and moved them, but I kept reminding her that removing them would allow her to move on and heal. We finally sold so many things and took bag after bag to charity.

The stuff is just a sign of the destructive patterns of self-hatred on past mistakes. Only through the act of self-forgiveness can we bring about a chain reaction of reorganizing—both of the house and heart.

3 . One afternoon, while staying with friends at their house there, my husband and I decided to go for a walk along the traffic-free country road in the area. We met a beautiful Golden Retriever. He seemed exceptionally friendly so we stopped to play with him, throwing a stick which he retrieved (取回) several times happily. When we continued our walk, he followed us. I couldn’t deny that we were enjoying his company.

After about twenty minutes, we found ourselves walking along a dirt road in an unfamiliar area. One house, almost hidden by tall trees, seemed somehow strange. I wanted to get as far away from that place as possible.

Just then, the door to the house opened and five dogs rushed out, barking as they ran toward us. I felt terrified and couldn’t move. All of a sudden, our new friend appeared between the dogs and us. He faced them-all five of them-barking and baring his teeth. I was amazed to see the attacking dogs stop in their tracks ten feet away from him. Our protector held them there while we escaped.

At a safe distance, we looked back and saw the five dogs heading back toward their house. But the Golden Retriever was nowhere in sight. I felt an ache in my heart; I missed our friend already.

With a feeling of emptiness, we made our way back to the house, hoping the whole way that we would see him again. But it was not to be.

When I told our friend about the encounter, her eyes flew wide open as she exclaimed, “It was an angel!”

To this day I have no doubt, a four-legged angel protected us.

4 . A letter written by Charles Darwin in 1875 has been returned to the Smithsonian Institution Archives(档案馆) by the FBI after being stolen twice.

“We realized in the mid-1970s that it was missing,” says Effie Kapsalis, head of the Archives. “It was noted as missing and likely taken by an intern (实习生), from what the FBI is telling us. Word got out that it was missing when someone asked to see the letter for research purposes,” and the intern put the letter back. “The intern likely took the letter again once nobody was watching it.”

Decades passed. Finally, the FBI received a clue that the stolen letter was located very close to Washington, D.C. Their art crime team got back the letter but were unable to accuse the suspect because the time of limitations had ended. The FBI worked closely with the Archives to determine that the letter was both genuine and exactly belonged to Smithsonian.

The letter was written by Darwin to thank an American geologist, Dr. Ferdinand Vandeveer Hayden, for sending him copies of his research into the geology of the area that would become Yellowstone National Park.

The letter is in fairly good condition, in spite of being out of the care of trained museum staff for so long. “It was luckily in good shape,” says Kapsalis, “and we just have to do some minor things in order to be able to unfold it. It has some glue on it that has colored it slightly, but nothing that will prevent us from using it. One of our goals is to get items of high research value or interest to the public online.”

It would be difficult to steal things like the letter. “Archiving practices have changed greatly since the 1970s,” says Kapsalis, “and we keep our high value objects in a safe that I can’t even reach.”

5 . When I was four, I lost my sight by falling off a box car and landing on my head. Now I’m thirty-two. I can vaguely remember the brightness of sunshine and what color red is. It’d be wonderful to see again, but a disaster can do strange things to people.

    1    . The loss of my eyes made me appreciate more what I had left.

It took me years to discover and strengthen this belief. It had to start with the most trivial things. Once a man gave me an indoor baseball. “I can’t use this,” I was hurt, thinking he was teasing me. “Take it with you,” he insisted, “and roll it around.” The words stuck in my head. By rolling the ball I could feel where it went.     2    —playing baseball. Later, at Philadelphia’s Overbrook School for the Blind, I invented a successful variation of baseball. We called it ground ball.

    3    —I believe it! The more readily you are able to make them, the more peaceful your private world becomes. The adjustment is never easy. I was once puzzled and afraid, knowing nowhere to go. But I was lucky, for I have my parents, teachers and others who saw in me a potential to live.

The hardest lesson I had to learn was to believe in myself. Had I not done that, I’d have broken down and become a chair rocker for the rest of my life. And the path to the belief is never smooth.     4    .

6 . A father died from cold while sheltering his nine-year- old daughter from serious weekend snowstorms that swept（席卷）northern Japan. Mikio Okada, one of at least nine people killed as snowstorms swept across Hokkaido, died as he tried to protect his only child Natsune against winds of up to 109 kilometers per hour in Yubetsu, Hokkaido, as temperatures fell sharply to -6℃.

Okada's body was discovered by savers looking for the pair after relatives asked for help. Natsune was wearing her father's jacket and was protected in his arms. The pair had last been heard from at 4 p. m. on Saturday, after fisherman Okada picked his daughter up from a school where she was being looked after while he was at work. Okada called his relatives to say his truck had become caught in the driving snow, which was several meters deep in places. He told them he and Natsune would walk the kilometers left. The two were found just 300 meters from the truck at 7 a. m. on Sunday.

Okada's body was down over his daughter, gently holding her in his arms and using his body and a wall to provide shelter. The small girl was taken to hospital, where she was found to have no serious injuries. Her father was officially pronounced dead by doctors at the same hospital.

The newspaper Yomiuri said Natsune's mother had died of illness two years earlier. Neighbors said Okada had been a very kind father who would often start his working day late to enjoy breakfast with his daughter.

His death came as families all over Japan celebrated Girls' Day, a festival in which they gather at home and decorate houses with dolls. "He booked a cake for his only daughter and was expecting to celebrate Dolls' Festival together, " a neighbor told the Yomiuri.

7 . A few weeks ago, I found myself taken aback by the strange and rough behavior of a medical practitioner(行医者). For the first time that I could remember, I had missed an appointment, and she called to berate me. Yes, it was my fault, but I think I subconsciously avoided the appointment due to the aggressive communication we had had thus far.

I had a sense of what I was getting into when I chose to go with her — I was warned about her bedside manner — but she came, highly recommended by multiple people, and I did not have the energy to keep looking for other options. So I went with her and made myself ready for the journey.

But I was not prepared. She screamed at me for minutes on end, as I sat there, unable to get a word in, feeling terribly guilty and ashamed of the missed appointment and having wasted her time. There was no calm talk about paying for the missed appointment.

After the phone call, I felt terrible. I believe that everything happens for a reason, and that everyone we meet comes into our lives for a reason.

A week or so later, after telling a friend about the event, I was blessed with this insight: This woman’s attacking voice was familiar, and it was personified and strengthened by my harsh(刺耳的), critical inner voice. My friend helped me see what a blessing this encounter was. If I could see my inner critic as this woman with her associated foolish behaviour, I would not allow myself to buy into it.

I remember I once read an article which says that when we look at the behavior of others, we are looking at a mirror. According to the “Mirror Theory”, when we observe character defects(缺点) in other people, we are really seeing the undeveloped and unresolved parts of our personality. With this in mind, not only do I need to examine how I view and treat myself, but also other people. So eventually, my encounter with this practitioner was for the best.

8 . Light and bright, cheap and cheerful: IKEA's 400-plus outlets （专营店）in 49 countries all run on the same central principle. Customers do as much of the work as possible, in the belief they are having fun and saving money. You drive to a distant warehouse built on cheap out-of-town land. Inside, you enter a maze （迷宫）---no shortcuts allowed—where every twist reveals new furniture.

Compared with the prices of other outlets, IKEA's are much lower. You load up your trolley （手 推车）with impulse buys—a clock, storage boxes, tools and more chairs than you will ever use. You drag cardboard boxes, cupboards and tables into your car and reward yourself for your economy and good taste. Then you drive home and put your prizes together. You are satisfied with the bargains. IKEA is satisfied with your money.

The company's name was a do-it-yourself job, too. IKEA stands for Ingvar Kamprad, from Elmtaryd―his family's farm—in Agunnaryd. That village is in the Smaland region of southern Sweden. Mr Kamprad founded IKEA aged 17. Well before that, he spotted a principle which would make him one of the richest men in the world that customers like buying goods at wholesale prices （批发价）.First he bought matches in large quantities and sold them by the box. Aged ten, he sold pens in the similar way.

Setbacks inspired him. Facing a price war against his low-cost mail-order furniture business, he defeated competitors by opening a showroom. Dealers tried to crush Mr Kamprad and banned him from their trade fairs. He slipped in, hiding in a friend's car. When they tried to threaten his suppliers, he relied on his own workers, and secretly sold his production to communist Poland. Decades later, east Europeans freed from the planned economy drove hundreds of miles to newly opened outlets in Moscow and Warsaw.

His self-discipline was world-famous. As a child, he removed the "off' button from his alarm clock to stop himself oversleeping. He rarely took a first-class seat. The wine didn't get you there any earlier, he sniffed; having lots of money was no reason to waste it. He bought his clothes in second-hand markets, and for years drove an elderly Volvo until he had to sell it on safety grounds. He had his hair cut in poor countries to save money. Visitors admired the views, but were surprised that his house was so shabby. He worked well into his eighties.

His diligence and simple way of life set a good example to his 194,000 "co-workers". But he was not mean. The point of cutting costs was to make goods affordable, not to compromise quality. He urged his staff to reflect constantly on ways of saving money, time and space. An improved design that allows easier piling means shipping less air—and more profit.

Culture was more important than strategy. He disliked ''exaggerated （夸张的）planning", along with financial markets and banks. Better to make mistakes and learn from them. And use time wisely: "You can do so much in ten minutes. But ten minutes once gone are gone for good." This did not apply to customers. The longer they stayed, the better.

Mr Kamprad's impact on modern life can be compared with that of Henry Ford and the mass-produced motor car. Furniture used to be expensive, dark and heavy. For many people, decorating a home could cost many months' salary. IKEA made furniture not just affordable and functional, but fun. The mission was civilizational, he felt, changing how people lived and thought.

His approach drew some fire. The company values struck some as unpleasant. At IKEA's Corporate Culture Centre, lots of pictures of Mr Kamprad with his mottos can be seen everywhere. What's worse, some parts of the supply chain seemed to have serious problems to overcome.

The old man walked slowly into the restaurant. His poor jacket, patched (打补丁) trousers, and worn-out shoes made him stand out from the usual Saturday morning breakfast crowd. Unforgettable were his pale blue eyes that sparkled (闪耀) like diamonds，large rosy cheeks，and thin lips that held a steady smile．

With the help of his trusty cane (拐杖), he walked toward a table by the window．A young waitress watched him and ran over to him，saying，"Here，Sir．Let me give you a hand with that chair．"

Without a word，he smiled and nodded a thank you．She pulled the chair away from the table．Supporting him with one arm，she helped him move in front of the chair，and get comfortably seated．Then she pushed the table up close to him，and leaned his cane against the table where he could reach it．

In a soft，clear voice he said，"Thank you，Miss．"

"You're welcome，Sir．"She replied．"My name is Mary．I'll be back in a moment．If you need anything，just wave at me．"

After he had finished a hearty meal of pancakes，bacon，and hot lemon tea，Mary brought him the change，helping him up from his chair and out from behind the table．She handed him his cane，and walked with him to the front door．Holding the door open for him，she said，"Come back and see us，Sir!"

He nodded a thank you and said softly with a smile，"You are very kind!"

When Mary went to clean his table，she was shocked．Under his plate she found a business card and a note written on the napkin，under which was a $ 100bill．

The note on the napkin read，"Dear Mary，I respect you very much，and you respect yourself，too．It shows by the way you treat others．You have found the secret of happiness．Your kind gestures will shine through those who meet you．"

The man she had served was the owner of the restaurant．This was the first time that she，or any of his employees，had seen him in person．

10 . I’m interested in coding and technology, but there’s a huge gender gap in the computing field, meaning girls are in the minority. I wanted to change that. I started the Catwalk Coding Camp where girls learn how to code(编程) light-up accessories (配饰) and show them at a fashion show. I thought the main result would be that some would be interested enough to learn more, but it turned out that the girls were hungry for role models in the field.

I’d never seen myself as a role model, but suddenly there were younger girls looking up to me. It made me want to be better. This “role model psychology" doesn’t just change what I do out in the world; it changes what I do for myself. I’m halfway through my first year as a computer science major. To be honest, it’s not always easy!

I struggled, and there was a moment when I considered changing my major. Difficult as it is, I survive and move on. Look around the lecture hall and only one third of the students are girls. Then when we break up into sections led by more advanced students, only 2 to 3 sections are run by women.

It keeps me going to know that so many girls look up to me. They have decided that if another girl can go   into computer science, they can as well. I want to do well so I can become a section leader in years to come, hoping to close the gender gap in the field.