One summer evening I was sitting by the open window, reading a good but rather frightening mystery story. After a time it was too dark for me to read easily, so I put my book down and turned on the light.

    I was just about to draw the 1 as well when I heard a loud cry “Help! Help! ” It2to come from the trees at the end of the garden. I looked out but it was too3to see anything clearly. So I decided to go out and have a look in the garden, just4someone was in 5. I took the torch and picked up a strong walking stick, 6 that this might come to be useful, too. 7 with these, I went out into the garden. 8 I heard the cry. There was no 9that it came from the trees at the end of the garden.

    “Who's there?” I 10 as I walked, rather11, down the path that 12 to the trees. But there was no13. With the help of my torch， I 14the whole of that part of the garden and the lower15 of the trees. There was no sign of anybody or anything. I came to the 16that someone was playing a rather silly joke on me.

    17feeling rather puzzled, I went back to the house and 18 away the torch and the stick. I had just sat down when I was startled by the cry of “ Help! Help! ”, this time from19 my shoulder. I dropped my book and climbed up. There, sitting 20of the mantelpiece ( 壁炉 ), was a parrot!

    I remember believing in Santa when I was a very young girl. However, as I grew older, I learned many 1 that “proved” his nonexistence. Always2by nature, I was determined to use 3to decide whether Santa Claus was 4.

    The first test5when I was 5, I decided that if I6all night on Christmas Eve, I could see if Santa really came down the chimney7 that was a useless8 I fell asleep that year, and when I woke up, I saw a 9 wrapped present under the10

    At the age of 7, I came up with another test to see if Santa was real. That year, I didn't send out my Christmas letter to Santa because I wanted 11for Christmas. But this turned into a plot. By then, I 12knew Santa wasn't real, but I wanted enough13to support this. That year was 14. Because on Christmas Eve, my mother dragged me to our local Wal-Mart led me around the toy section. I 15 to say a word, but did let my eyes16on a ballet set. I17that “Santa” wouldn't know what I wanted because he shouldn't be able to read my 18However, my mother would know everything that caught my eyes in the store. If I got the ballet set the next morning, I would have my evidence. On Christmas morning, there was the ballet set, sitting under the tree again.19I didn't use it much, my mother ended up returning it a few days later. She20 Santa was generous enough to leave a receipt. That was the end to my task to discover the existence of Santa.

    Raynor Winn and her husband Moth became homeless due to their wrong investment. Their savings had been 1 to pay lawyers' fees. To make matters worse, Moth was diagnosed（诊断）with a 2 disease. There was no 3, only pain relief.

    Failing to find any other way out, they decided to make a 4 journey, as they caught sight of an old hikers'（徒步旅行者）guide.

    This was a long journey of unaccustomed hardship and 5 recovery. When leaving home, Raynor and Moth had just ￡320 in the bank. They planned to keep the 6 low by living on boiled noodles, with the7hamburger shop treat.

    Wild camping is 8 in England. To avoid being caught, the Winns had to get their tent up 9and packed it away early in the morning. The Winns soon discovered that daily hiking in their 50s is a lot 10 than they remember it was in their 20s. Raynor 11 all over and desired a bath. Moth, meanwhile, after an initial 12, found his symptoms were strangely 13 by their daily tiring journey.

    14, the couple found that their bodies turned for the better, with re-found strong muscles that they thought had 15 forever. "Our hair was fried and falling out, nails broken, clothes 16 to a thread, but we were alive."

    During the journey, Raynor began a career as a nature writer. She writes, "17 had taken every material thing from me and left me torn bare, an empty page at the end of a(n) 18 written book. It had also given me a 19, either to leave that page 20 or to keep writing the story with hope. I chose hope."

    I'm exhausted after a day's housework. “Sometimes I just want to do something1 than all of this…”, I tell my husband Tony, who sits beside me in2, weighing his words. Finally, he says, “What you're doing feels really small, but it doesn't mean that it is.” His words reminds me of the 3 that had happened on the driveway earlier that morning.

    The kids lined up their scooters (滑板车) for a friendly4. I launched the action with a wave of my hand and stepped back to watch the race. Wheels rolled. Kids cheered 5. But then, a sharp cry ended the 6.

    My 10-year-old daughter fell down on the ground,7 by a group of broken scooter parts. Blood leaked from an obvious cut in her knee, and tears 8 in her blue eyes.

    “What happened?” I asked as I ran to her side.

    “I don't know…” Hannah said as she 9 the scooter. “My scooter was just missing one little piece…”

    She dropped her head in 10. “Something fell off my scooter right before the race began, but it was a small thing, so I didn't think it was 11.”

    As I lifted Hannah to her feet, her little brother began 12 the scattered parts in a bucket.

With a smile, he presented the pieces to his sister and 13, “I guess a small thing was really a big deal after all.”

    “Who dares to 14 the day of small things…” When we prepared to 15 an old house, one small brick matters. Like the children of Judah, we, too, have a choice. We can 16 the significance of our lives by the size of our 17, or we can trust God to use our 18 offerings for his great glory.

    As for me, I think I'll ask God to renew my love for this 19 life that 1 live, because there's a 20scooter in my garage that reminds me of my son's declaration.

    The friendship between us lasts forever. Mary Allen was my best friend— 1a sister. We did 2together, piano lessons, movies, swimming, horseback riding, and 3.

    When I was 13, my family moved. Mary and I kept in4through letters, and we saw 5on special occasions—like my wedding and 6.Soon we were busy7children and moving to new homes, and we wrote less8.One day a card that I 9came back stamped "Address Unknown". I had no 10how to find Mary.

    Over the years, I thought of Mary often. I wanted to11stories of my children and then grandchildren. I needed to share my sorrow when my brother and then my mother died. There was an 12place in my heart that only a friend like Mary 13fill.

    One day I was reading a newspaper 14I noticed a picture of a young woman 15looked a lot like Mary and whose last name was Wagman—Mary's married name. "There must be thousands of Wagmans, " I thought, but I wrote to her 16.

    She called as soon as she got my letter. "Mrs Tobin！" she said 17, "Mary Allen Wagman is my mother." Minutes later I heard a voice that I 18at once, even after 50 years. We laughed and cried and asked about each other's lives.

    Now the empty place in my heart is 19, and there's one thing that Mary and I know20 we won't lose each other again!

    Lucy didn't have a lot of friends. She was a bit 1. She never really wanted to be popular, but did want to have someone to2 secrets and laughs with. All through high school, 3, she didn't find a lot of comfort or companionship.

    When it came to going to college, Lucy still felt 4. She was going to be rooming with a 5 classmate and living in a town 300 miles away from home. There wouldn't be a single person she 6 in town. She had no idea how she was going to make7in this new environment.

    The first week of classes, something happened that 8 Lucy's life forever. In her English Composition class, she was asked to share a little about herself. She 9 everyone where she came from and all of the other 10 details that students share in such 11. The final question for each student was always the same: "What is your 12 for this class?" Now, most of the students said it was to get a good13, pass the class or something similar, but for some 14, Lucy said something entirely 15. She said that her goal was to make just one good friend.

    While most of the students sat in silence, one student came to Lucy and 16his hand and introduced himself. He asked if she would be his friend. The whole room was 17—all eyes focused on Lucy and the hand extended just in front of her. She 18 and reached out to take his hand and a friendship was formed. It was a friendship that 19all through college. Lucy learned the20of asking for what she wanted, being honest and taking action.