1 . About five weeks ago, I noticed the skin of our pet lizard was growing dusty. Later, our lizard emerged from its tank with its old skin flowing behind it. I didn’t think about it much until a morning last week when I knocked my favorite teapot off the table. It burst into hundreds of pieces. As I swept up the mess, I wondered why we had been breaking so many things over the months.

The destruction started three months ago. It was my husband’s birthday. He had just lost his job. The uncertainty was starting to wear on us, so I wanted to do something special.

“ Let’s make a cake for Dad! ” I cried. My kids screamed with joy. We baked, iced and sprinkled for most of the day. Candles on the cake! Balloons on the walls! Flowers on the table!

Two hours before my husband came back home from another job interview, my daughter climbed up to grab a glass vase from a high shelf. It fell and crashed beside the cake. Tiny pieces of glass were everywhere. She sobbed loudly as I threw the cake away. My husband had banana pudding for his birthday.

Three days ago, the light in our living room suddenly went out. After several frustrating hours of unsuccessful attempts to fix it, my husband suggested watching the Michael Jordan documentary series The Last Dance.

The poignancy (酸楚) of Jordan retiring from his beloved basketball to play baseball and what had pushed him to make such a tough decision took me by surprise. As I watched him take off his basketball uniform and replace it with a baseball uniform, I saw him leaving behind the layer that no longer served him, just as our lizard had. Neither of them chose the moment that had transformed them. But they had to live with who they were after everything was different. Just like us. I realized that we have to learn to leave the past behind.

Humans do not shed skin (蜕皮) as easily as other animals. The beginning of change is upsetting. The process is tiring. Damage changes us before we are ready. I see our lizard, raw and nearly new.

Jordan said that no matter how it ends, it starts with hope. With our tender, hopeful skin, that is where we begin.

2 . My husband and I made an agreement to help each other stay off social media platforms as much as possible. We left our accounts up instead of deleting them, but consciously stopped using them.     1     Now, I’m glad to report that they have worked.

Tired of being the last to hear of things, we downloaded a few news-specific apps that provide timely information.     2     Instead of relying on articles shared by my friends, I now have access to a steady stream of headlines that span far broader than my pre-specified interests.

Staying updated on our social circle has also been a more conscious effort. Previously I was kept up-to-the-minute on engagements, weddings, new jobs and babies through updates and pictures. Without social media, I now learn of these important events only when actually meeting the people involved.

    3     The effort taken to sit down and write is far challenging, but when I do take the time to keep a journal, my reflections go far deeper.

I still log in occasionally.     4     Based on the screen time tracked by my phone, I used to spend an average of over 24 hours a week on various social media platforms. That is down to just 20 minutes every month now, freeing up a great deal of time for sleep, hobbies and offline interactions.

    5     I might know less about my acquaintances (泛泛之交) now, but have more time to keep directly in touch with my closest friends. Walking home last week, I was greeted by a dramatic purple-pink sunset. I would have immediately reached for my phone a year ago. Now, it was enough to simply watch it darken into the night.

4 . Mac Carter, a British father of 14-year-old Ben who has autism (自闭症), searched on the Internet to find a specific kind of little blue cup for his son.

When Ben was two, Mac gave him a little blue cup that was made in China and ever since the cup has become one of the most important things in Ben’s life. Mac never thought that the little cup would cause such a big problem. Ben became dependent on this cup because ever since he received the gift he would only drink water from the exact type of little blue cup. Over 12 years, Ben refused to drink water without the cup. Mac was worried about this because their current cup could break soon and he needed to find a replacement for his son to drink with. The problem was that the cup was no longer being produced.

Mac tried to take Ben to a doctor to solve the cup problem, but it was of no use. So Mac decided to seek help from the public on Twitter. He got a lot of responses and the enthusiasm people from all over the world showed gave him confidence and hope. Many strangers found their identical cup and offered to send them to Ben. Though Mac received a lot of help, he still was concerned. All the cups he received would eventually break. As time passed, it would be even harder to find the same cups.

The situation took a surprising turn when the baby products company Tommee Tippee UK got in touch with Mac. They sent a team to China, and they found the same exact mould (模具) for the cup in the factory that first made it. The company and the Chinese factory decided to make as many as 50 cups for Ben, and Mac was thrilled about all this.

6 . I never saw my father back home from work late or ill, nor did I ever see my father take a night out with the boys. He had no hobbies but just took care of his family.

For 22 years, since I left home for college, my father called me every Sunday at 9:00 a.m. He was always interested in my life — how my family was doing. The calls even came when he and my mother were in Australia, England or Florida.

Nine years ago when I bought my first house, my father, 67 years old, spent eight hours a day for three days, painting my house. He would not allow me to pay someone to have it done. All he asked was a glass of iced tea, and that I hold a paintbrush for him and talk to him. But I was too busy, for I had a law practice to run, and I could not take the time to hold the paintbrush, or talk to my father.

Five years ago, my 71-year-old father spent five hours putting together a swing set (秋千) for my daughter. Again, all he asked was that I get him a glass of iced tea, and talk to him. But again, I had the laundry to do, and the house to clean.

The morning on Sunday, January 15, 1995, my father telephoned me as usual, this time he had seemed to have forgotten some things we had discussed the week before. I had to go to church, and I cut the conversation short.

The call came at 4:40 p.m. That day my father was sent to hospital in Florida. I got on a plane immediately, and I vowed (发誓) that when I arrived, I would make up for the lost time, and have a nice long talk with him and really get to know him.

I arrived in Florida at 1:00 a.m., but my father had passed away at 9:12 p.m. This time it was he who did not have time to talk, or time to wait for me.

In the years since his death I have learnt much about my father, and even more about every single day.

7 . One day, two old friends were walking through the desert. During the journey they had a quarrel, and one friend couldn't control himself and hit the other one in the face.

The one who was hit was hurt, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he wrote in the sand, "Today my best friend hit me in the face."

They kept on walking until they found an oasis(绿洲). They decided to get some water. The one who was hit fell into the mire(泥潭) and was in danger, but the friend saved him.

When he felt all right, he wrote on a stone, "Today my best friend saved my life."

The one who had hit and saved his best friend felt surprised and asked him, "After I hurt you, you wrote in the sand but now you write on a stone. Why?"

The other friend replied," When someone hurts us, we should write it down in sand where winds of forgiveness can blow it away. But when someone does something good for us, we must write it in stone where no wind can ever blow it away!"

Since then the two friends have never quarreled with each other again and they got on better with each other.

8 . The sun was setting and the farm would be closing soon. I dressed our three daughters quickly as my husband started the van. Cutting down our own Christmas-tree had been a family tradition. As our family grew, so did our excitement for going out to find the perfect tree.

As we walked through the rows of trees, my youngest daughter Kimberly shouted excitedly, “There it is, the perfect tree!” The other two agreed. My husband and I looked at each other, puzzled. Its branches were misshapen and the trunk was visible through the spots where there were no pine needles.

We tried to persuade our daughters into changing their minds, but in vain. We had to tie the tree to the roof of our van and headed home. As we reached our house, Heather jumped out first. Suddenly she shouted, “The tree isn’t there!” We thought she was kidding. However, it wasn’t there.

The girls were so disappointed. “We’ll get another tree tomorrow”, I said, secretly hoping the new tree would be prettier. But the girls gave us the look that no parent could resist. We had no choice but to go back and find that tree.

After driving for about five minutes, we saw our tree on the side of the road. As we got closer, it was apparent that it had been run over by a truck. As we lifted the tree, we saw that a big part of the tree was ripped off, but we took our little broken tree home anyway.

That night, as we decorated our tree, something magical happened. We didn’t realize it at that time that we were making a very special family memory. By the time we were done, I had to admit, it didn’t look sad at all. This is the best tree we have ever had. “It’s perfect!” my second daughter Samantha said excitedly. My husband and I couldn’t have agreed more!

Now we always recall that little broken tree! Year by year, we tell the story of that very special Christmas almost twenty-five years ago.

9 . Life in the summertime is often full of pests. Like most Long Island homeowners, I want to ensure my suburban life with pest-free living. So it was with wide-eyed wonder that I greeted the smiling exterminator who rang my bell.

“We'll be serving your neighbors, Mike and Sarah (I'm not familiar with either one by name).” he waved in the other direction. “Since we'll have a team here tomorrow, we're offering a discount.” He came out with numbers beginning from $299 then in seconds to $89.

“You've probably been seeing the ant hills around.” he moved toward my front walkway and lawn. “And have you seen the bees that dig nests in the ground?” he continued with his head shaking up and down pushing me to do the same.

“What we do is spray three feet out from your foundation and three feet up.” As he was talking and without breaking eye contact, he opened his iPad cover and began operating at the screen to show me frightening images. “It also kills other pests, like spiders. It is the best pesticide,” he said, pausing for effect.

He then went into soft talk to close the deal, correctly foreseeing that I would be concerned about safety and the environmental impact on my vegetable garden, plants and our little patch of planet here on Long Island. “The products are environmentally responsible, safe with children and pets,” he said.

I'm unkind when it comes to unwanted visitors entering on my out-of-doors moments. Any insect found in my house or on my deck is bound to be poisoned or pancaked.

Unfortunately for the exterminator, just as I was considering making an appointment. Billy, my fearless husband, pulled into our driveway, which made me ask for a business card out of politeness instead.

10 . Lucio Arreola is 50 years old, the father of three daughters and a bank manager in Puerto Rico. He is going to have a surprising Father’s Day this year. He finds just about every day surprising now. Arreola has a new heart, or at least, new to him. On April 20, doctors transplanted (移植) the heart of a dead 25-year-old man into him. Although he may never know the man’s identity, he and his family will always be grateful to him.

Arreola was told he had a heart muscle disease 15 years ago that weakened his breathing and circulation, so he went on a lot of medications. His wife and daughters worried about his health, while he worried about their happiness.

Lucio Arreola has been recovering from his heart transplant surgery at Houston Methodist over the past two months. “One day up, one day down,” he said. “Some days dark, some light. But what happens is that when the sun is out, you really feel it. Every breath is sweet. You see the trees and people. You hear your daughters laugh, and it’s like birds singing. You tell yourself, ‘There is no time in life for anything but love.’”

Liz Laguaite, a hospital music therapist, told Arreola and his family, “Why don’t you try to write a song together about what you’ve been through and what you’ve learned?” They decided to try. Lucio Arreola worried that illness might make his daughters see him as a delicate man. But instead of frailty, they mostly saw his courage to go on. And he said their love was like his own powerful heart muscle that gave him faith, hope and courage.

“My weak heart,” he said, “helped make them strong.”

Lucio Arreola said he had learned that human hearts were delicate. But a family’s love was enduring. The Arreolas recorded the song they created while Lucio recovered. The song begins with the strong beat of a father’s loving heart.