It was a cold autumn morning a few years ago. I was driving along the mountain roads slower than usual trying to take in all the1colors. It was so beautiful. It was a day made for2Yet, part of me still felt3and insignificant in the middle of all of this heaven-sent beauty.

    As I rounded a curve(弯曲处), I4saw an old man hurrying along the side of the road. As soon as he saw me, he raised his thumb, hoping for a5. I braked and pulled over to the side of the road. I6the door and the white haired man got in with a smile. He was hoping to7to the local post office and8have tie to catch a bus. As I drove along, we laughed and talked about what a9day it was. Then just as I 10to drop him off, he turned to me and said “Thanks son. You were heaven-sent.”

    I 11away with a smile on my face and a12in my heart. I wasn't sure 13I had been “heaven-sent” for him but he 14had been “heaven-sent” for me. He had15me that I too was an important part of God's 16and that I should enjoy taking my place in it.

    In God's eyes, none of us is small. None of us is 17  All of us are heaven-sent. We are here to help each other. We are here to18our love and our kindness. We are here to make this world a better 19more beautiful place. May you always 20your place in God's glorious creation.

    A Commitment to Life

    The snow was falling and the roads had become dangerous. The schools were dismissed early, but much to my surprise, my1wasn't canceled. So I went, feeling especially heroic. As far as I could see, I was risking my life to keep my2. Snow or no snow, I would be on time for my scheduled donation at the local 3 center.

    When I got there, I discovered I wasn't4. Four more “hero-types” were already lying back in donor chairs with lines5to their veins, and machines quietly pumping away to6their lifesaving gifts.

    Seeing my fellow donors honoring their own commitments, I realized why I was there. I lay back in my donor chair, ready to make a difference in the life of someone I would never7.

    To be honest, I'd never really thought about why I donate. I just do it. But a few months ago, during one of my8donations I learned that my blood was specifically for a cancer patient and for a newborn baby—both patients needed what I would give in order to live. I've viewed my visits to the blood center9 ever since.

    My wife Karen is a 10  too. And more importantly, she has been on the bone marrow (骨髄) list for fifteen years, ever since she signed up to provide bone marrow to a kindergartner with leukemia (白血病). That little girl died before Karen's bone marrow could help her, 11Karen was called again recently. Her test results were still on file, and it turned out she was a potential 12 for someone else. The caller asked Karen if she would still be willing to become a bone marrow donor. “Yes,” she said and then immediately began answering questions on the pages of paperwork for further testing. It was a race13time.

    I wish I could say that this 14was won. It wasn't. The caller later thanked Karen for her participation and asked a few more questions—including whether or not she'd15 on the donor list. “Of course,” Karen answered.

    Last week Karen gave blood and next week I'll make my usual donation. I'll16an afternoon from my schedule and make an appointment. I don't know whose life my donation may 17 .Most likely it will be a 18  but on any day the person needing a blood product could be you or me or maybe a loved one. It is worthwhile to 19our time to donate.

    I really do feel 20 every time I donate. And I like the feeling.

    As a child, I started learning to play the piano, my favorite musical 1,but I was forced to give up when I started my middle school 2 I could concentrate more on my studies.

    It's one of my biggest 3to stop practicing the piano when I recall sadly today. During the following years, I kept telling my piano teacher that I would4. However, I didn't keep my promise because I was 5 with my study. 6 I lost touch with my teacher. Some years later, my teacher died. I was very sad because I lost such a good teacher. She was a very warm and gentle person. It hurts me to think she may have been 7 that I never returned. I haven't taken lessons since then but to be honest, I 8 to. Sitting at the piano, I couldn't help recalling many 9-- times of my practising at home and playing before my teacher and one time my teacher 10 me after I played entire pieces of music wrong in front of her colleagues. I was so11 that I could hardly say anything. But her12 helped me ease my shame. These memories, 13, good or bad, never caused my 14 for playing the piano again.

    This thought then led me to think that15is like music, and that we all try to play different 16in the instrument of our life. Sometimes the pitch(音高) is 17when we play it well, but sometimes we are out of tone. However, we all continue to create our own 18style of music. No matter what style our music is, it is 19 that we sing the songs of joy, quietness and love. Though I may never make it back to piano lessons, it doesn't20 that I've stopped making music.

    If we redouble our efforts, our dreams will come true. Chen Zuobin had 1 for 13 years already. Finally, he decided to become a 2 again. Born in a mountain village in Anhui province, Chen Zuobin walked out of the 3 for study when he was 19. Thought he had a 4 life as a creative director of an international agency in Shanghai, he couldn't 5 the anxiety reflected in his dreams.

    “I dreamed about 6 branch roads several times a year. I didn't know which one leads to 7 . It made me feel terrible.” One day, Chen Zuobin said to his wife, “I want to go home.” 8 being surprised, his wife said, “9 your heart. Don't worry about me.”

    The young couple returned to their hometown and 10 the Real Food Farm just to lead a real and simple life. Chen Zuobin shook off the 11 and tiredness from too much 12 in the city. Only in the mountains can they enjoy the 13 air. There isn't the smell of tail gas, but the smell of 14 when it shines over the woods. They live a life of “eating healthily and 15 well.

    In a time when eating 16 becomes a luxury（奢侈）in the 17 life, it's truly a right way to return to the 18 . “Life is a journey of 19 the proper way.” Said Chen Zuobin.

    Those dreams about branch roads have 20 because he has found his own path.

    I began to do volunteer work in grade seven. I experienced many meaningful moments, and the most1ones were when I was volunteering as a swimming2at the YMCA in Brockton, Massachusetts. At first, I was a teacher's3. "What are we going to do next?" When is the play time? These were just two of the questions I was often4there. On the day of my first class, I thought it was going to be a(n) 5 job. I 6that since I had taken swimming lessons from the age of five, I knew the7about swimming. After all, I was good at all8of swimming! 9, I soon found out there was more about teaching swimming than just knowing how to swim.

    During my first class, I assisted the swimming teacher in teaching a group of five-year-old kids. From that moment on, my10of teaching changed. Teaching is communicating. To instruct children, one has to make the lessons11 and interesting for them to learn. I had to learn many games that would help the children to 12as swimmers. Such as "Red Light, Green Light" and "Blast-Off." I must devote myself to teaching them and set a(n)13example to them.

    I expected to teach a group of children, but it14my students were the ones who taught me how to be a(n)15teacher. Not only was it challenging to learn the children's names, but it was also challenging to16to their many personalities and moods. There were many 17that went along with helping these children, among which was seeing a child18a task that he or she could not do before they met me. 19, through the volunteer work, I learned that there would always be rewards by giving, and there would be20by making efforts.

    The day we brought Julie home I knew that we were in quite a ride. She was more than just a 1. Though the smallest one in the house, she didn't let that 2her from trying to show off. It made me 3that she would walk up to the bowl of dog food and bark away a dog ten times her 4. She never once begged, but she wasn't afraid to ask for 5either. Too many times I found my toes being tickled(使发痒) by her tongue until I 6moved her up to my lap.

    Julie didn't mind being petted but wouldn't 7being carried around like a doll. The kids soon learned just how to 8her: with both love and respect. Julie loved a good dog treat and a 9touch. When it came to haircuts and baths, however, she wasn't afraid to show her 10about them with a gentle growl(怒吼声).

    Julie lived on and on while some of my younger dogs had 11over the years, but her 12slowly got worse and worse. She lost weight and had trouble 13. She became both blind and deaf and we had to 14her carefully when we were walking her. Sometimes she slept so 15that I was afraid that she had finally passed away. Yet, she always 16her head when I gently touched her old body. That was until last night.

    I buried Julie in the woods behind my home with 17eyes and hurting heart. I asked myself why I had taken so many dogs into my 18over the years when the 19of losing them was so great. As I was walking home remembering Julie, I came to 20the answer: the love was always far greater than the pain.