When I was in Grade 6, I knew a girl. She 1 to point out my shortcomings and always said I was very thin, I wasn't a good student, and so on. I tried not to care what she said. 2 , I became very 3 in the end. I cried and ran to Daddy.

    Daddy asked, “Are the things she says true or not? Lisa, didn't you ever 4 what you're really like? Well, you now have that girl's 5 . Go and make a 6 of everything she said and 7 the points that are true. Pay no attention to the other things she said.”

    To my 8 , I discovered that about half the things were true. Some of them I couldn't 9 (like being very thin), 10 a good number I could and suddenly I11to change. For the first time I got a clear 12 of myself.

    I brought the list back to Daddy. He 13 to take it. “That's just for you,” he said. “You know better than anyone else the 14  about yourself. But you have to learn to 15 . Don't just close your ears in anger, feeling 16 . When something said about you is true, you'll find it will be 17 to you. Our world is full of people who think they know your duty. Don't 18 your ears. Listen to them all, but hear the truth and do what you think is 19 .”

    In my life, this is the best 20 that Daddy has given me.

    On the first day of my high school, I ran into my new English teacher, Ms. Kirschmann. I really mean that – I almost knocked her 1 .

    On entering my English classroom, I hit somebody hard. She was tall with red hair, and she was2a black and white skirt. As I began to3, she started “yelling” at me. But soon I realized that she was,4, saying hello and welcoming me to her class in a very 5voice. I realized that I had just met my new English teacher a moment ago.

    Kirsch, as she wanted us to call her, had a6and fascinating character. Her hair color, fashion sense and energy took up the entire room. When we read the play Macbeth by Shakespeare, Kirsch let us play7and wear masks. There was a big drum in the classroom. Every time we read the word “thunder” in the text, she would hit 8 on the drum, making a loud noise! My classmates and I would 9 loudly.

    During group discussions, Kirsch often told us to sit in a10 on the floor. We talked about the 11 while she just sat in a corner and took notes of what we said. Doing so made us feel independent and 12 ourselves more with critical thinking. It is the strangest 13 the most entertaining class I have ever had.

    Kirsch is really a “social butterfly”. She smiles, laughs and tells jokes 14 she goes. But I found out about another 15 of her the other day.

    After school that day, I was walking by my English classroom 16 I saw Ms. Kirschmann with her son. She was trying to 17 him to put on his jacket in a low voice. She spoke in such a gentle manner that I was quite 18 . Until then, it never 19 to me that Ms. Kirschmann could be quiet. I had thought she was 20 energetic, calm, intelligent and caring all at once. All I know was that I couldn't wait for the next day of her English class.

    When I told my father that I was moving to Des Moines, Iowa, he told me about the only time he had been there. It was in the 1930s, when he was an editor of the literary magazine of Southern Methodist University（SMU）in Dallas, Texas. He also worked as a professor at SMU, and there was a girl student in his class who suffered from a serious back disease. She couldn't afford the operation because her family was poor.

    Her mother ran a boardinghouse in Galveston, a seaside town near Houston, Texas. She was cleaning out the attic（阁楼）one day when she came across an old dusty manuscript（手稿）. On its top page were the words, “By O. Henry”. It was a nice story, and she sent it to her daughter at SMU, who showed it to my father. My father had never read the story before, but it sounded like O. Henry, and he knew that O. Henry had once lived in Houston. So it was possible that the famous author had gone to the beach and stayed in the Galveston boardinghouse, and had written the story there and left the manuscript behind by accident. My father visited an O. Henry expert at Columbia University in New York, whoauthenticatedthe story as O. Henry's.

My father then set out to sell it. Eventfully, he found himself in Des Moines, meeting with Gardner Cowles, a top editor at the Des Moines Register. Cowles loves the story and bought it on the spot. My father took the money to the girl. It was just enough for her to have the operation she so desperately needed.

My father never told me what the O. Henry story was about. But I doubt that it could have been better than his own story.

    On Dec. 13, 2014, Nubia Wilson turned 16. But instead of1with an exciting Sweet 16 birthday party, the California teen devoted this milestone to 2 the lives of orphans in Ethiopia.

    Through several summers of volunteer work at an Ethiopia orphanage（孤儿院）, Nubia learned firsthand the severe poverty so many children3. In an email to The Huffington Post, Nubia said that she was 4struck by the children's lack of5to education — their school only went through the fourth grade.

    Over the course of her volunteer work, Nubia became interested in one 6Hermela. She writes:

    Out of the many students in the kindergarten class, Hermela became close and7 to me to a point where it was becoming8for both of us to leave each other. She is now in the second grade. The thought of Hermela not being able to have her meal and9 education after the fourth grade became 10and I knew I had to do something.

    That's when Nubia decided that she didn't want a traditional Sweet 16.11 she wanted to use the money her parents would have spent on a party to establish12grade class for Hermela and other kids.

    “The money could provide a (n)13 solution that will serve for many years compared to the one-day14of my party, “Nubia wrote to Huffpost Live15 I want Hermela to continue16.”

    After17 friends and family her plan, Nubia 18 a donation page “Keep Hermela Smiling” on CrowRise. Her19will raise funds for the Fregenet Foundation（基金会）, which funds education and community services in Ethiopia.

    So far, Nubia has raised $2,781 of her $10,000 goal. Nubia says her parents have been extremely 20 they're selling most of their Ethiopian artifacts to help raise funds.

    Nubia's birthday may not have been a party, but it's truly a celebration.

    On a road trip to California's breathtaking North Coast region, my husband Ken and I, my teenage daughter Lahre, and my nine-year-old son Shawn, stopped to have lunch and stretch our legs a bit.

    As we walked toward the 1 entrance, a man with an untidy beard and dirty hair jumped up from a nearby bench and opened the door for us. An old bike 2 with a sleeping bag and the rest of his 3rested against the bench, it was obvious that he was 4. But regardless of his 5, he greeted us as if we were his best friends, “Today's soup and sandwich special's a great deal.”

    Once inside, my teenager whispered to me, “Mom, he 6.” And Shawn asked questions about him, not quite understanding the 7 of a homeless person. Ken and I explained the best we could, telling the kids to look to the person underneath and within 8 the dirt and smell.

    With the windiest part of our trip just 9 us, the kids needed to take car-sick pills so I went back to the car to fetch them. As I 10 the front door, the “doorman” was opening it for an older couple, who rushed past him and didn't even acknowledge his 11. I let the couple12 first and then said a loud and gracious “thank you” to the doorman.

After going back inside, I asked our waitress, who was bringing the kids their dessert, to 13 one soup and sandwich special to our bill. Both the kids looked at me 14 —as we had already eaten but Ken knew exactly what I was doing.

    By this time, we had to get back on the road to stay on schedule. As we rounded the comer of the very full restaurant, the “doorman” was sitting at a table enjoying his 15. When seeing me, he jumped up and 16 his hand for a handshake. It was then that I17 he had tears in his eyes—tears of gratitude.

    18 we can't choose many things in life, we can choose when to show gratitude, and I was doing just that. Hopefully, when someone opens a door for Lahre and Shawn during their 19 through life, they will remember to say “20“ and have a great soup and sandwich special on the menu, too.

    I was at a crowded grocery store not long ago. It was a weekday evening, cold and tense. People were carelessly 1 aisles(过道) and at one point, two women 2 for several minutes after running into each other.

    Things got 3 at the checkout line. The cashier scanned a man's discount card, but he misread the savings on her screen as an additional 4. He decided she was acting 5 and began to argue. The cashier tried in vain to reason with him. She 6 a manager, who accompanied him to customer service and moved to the next 7 in line.

    We've all witnessed 8 scenes like this in public places. My reaction when I see them is both personal and 9. I am a sociologist who studies how and why people communicate with one another — or why they 10 not to. To me, the grocery scene was another example of how our 11 in others has declined. But it was also a teachable 12 on how we can rebuild our faith — 13 with just one person.

    I 14 the nervous cashier. I got a bottle of water from a nearby cooler and handed it to her. "I felt 15 about how that man treated you and wanted to buy this for you," I said. Her face lit up, and we 16 as she scanned our items. She told me she had been 17 that evening through severe foot pain and would be having an operation later that week. I wished her well in her 18, and she thanked me as I left.

    Those are the balancing 19 that will add up to restore (重建)trust between people. You can start that pattern in someone else's life, even in a 20 as ordinary as the neighbourhood grocery store.