No one is born a winner. People make themselves into winners by their own efforts. I learned this lesson from an experience many years ago. I took the head coaching job at a school in Baxley, Georgia. It was a small school with a weak football program. The school took part in the league matches every year. However, it never ended well. We were more of the audience, watching and cheering instead of sweating out in the fields.

Fortunately, the school held the tradition that the school’s old team was to play against the new team at the end of spring practice. For lack of resources, the old team bad no coach, and they didn’t even practice to prepare for the game.

I was assigned (指派) as the coach of the new team, which was why I was excited. I believed that we were going to win, but to my disappointment, we were defeated. I couldn’t believe I had got into such a situation. Thinking hard about it, I tried to figure out the reason and what I should do next.

It didn’t take long before I came to realize that my team was depending on me. Without proper guidance or previous experience, my team was at a loss what to do. I had to change my attitude so that I could bring out the best in them about their ability and potential.

I would let my action do the talking. First, I started doing anything I could to help them build a little pride. I could see their spirits lifted, with their head held high in great confidence. Most importantly, I began to treat them like winners. Only when they regarded themselves as winners could they willingly invest time and energy.

This summer, the other teams enjoyed their vacations.

Six months later, football season started.

In common with many other women, I was crazy about shopping. Whenever I came across something I liked, I had a strong desire to take it home. As a result, I spent a lot of money buying piles of things that I didn’t really need. My husband sometimes tried to persuade me to buy less and live a simpler life, but I wouldn’t listen. To me, shopping was more than a hobby. It made me delighted and relaxed.

However, one day when I stayed at home looking around my house, I realized that my own cherished knickknacks (小摆件) had become dust collectors. My treasures had overtaken my home, the furniture was closing in on me, and I had piles of clothing. Some of them had never been worn before. My home had become a prison instead of a heaven. It was then that I realized my hobby had become a sweet burden for me. It’s high time that I should make a change!

At first, making the decision proved easier than carrying it out. I’d come home from work, stand in the doorway, and gaze at my paintings, favorite chair, and dolls. I would delicately hold and admire a fine tea set that, until now, I had long stopped noticing on the shelf. My doll collection was the biggest trouble. Getting rid of these toy babies I had purposely chosen and lovingly displayed on shelves for so many years felt like a family betrayal (背叛) Even though the dolls had “certificates of authenticity (防伪证明), and some were signed by the artists, it didn’t feel right to sell them. Having no idea what to do with these dolls, I turned to my husband for help.

It is strange how a single moment can change a person’s life. It is incredible how one simple act of love can forever change one’s soul.

My adult son walked to the table this morning for breakfast. He opened his arms to me, saying, “Good morning, Mom. I love you!” I opened my arms, too, responding, “Good morning, honey. I love you, too!” And I gave him a big hug just like I do every morning. Just at this time, a beautiful memory from many years ago came back to me.

My Italian grandmother who lived in countryside liked hugging very much when I was a girl. But my mom had studied in the city and grown up in a more reserved environment. My mom hugged me sometimes, but less often as I grew into my teenage years. My dad also seemed to follow the gender roles of the day back then and didn’t hug me much as I got older. By the time I was a teenager, I didn’t hug anyone else except my grandmother.

I clearly remembered that when I was sixteen, I left on a trip with a group of boys to tour a college in the middle west America. As we entered the college, we were greeted there by an old professor. He was over six and a half feet tall with huge arms and a powerful voice. And as he greeted us, he gave each one of us a huge hug. When my turn came, I felt scared but stepped forward and hugged him back. I felt warmth in my heart as he shared his loving kindness. I felt peace and joy in my spirit as well. It was amazing.

Later that day, I began to wonder why I had ever stopped giving and receiving hugs when they brought so much joy. When my children were born, I decided to never stop hugging them and telling them I loved them, no matter how old they grew. As time went by, my children got used to my hugs and they learned to offer to hug me and others.

I posted the story of my hug on the Internet.

Then I started a “Hug Me” activity with my friends.