Hundreds of people have formed impressions of you through that little device (装置) on your desk. And they've never actually 1you. Everything they know about you2 through this device, sometimes from hundreds of miles away3they feel they can know you 4 from the sound of your voice. That's how powerful the5 is.

    Powerful, yes, but not always 6. For years I dealt with my travel agent only by phone. Rani, my faceless agent whom I'd never met7got me rock-bottom prices on airfares, cars, and hotels. But her cold voice really 8 me. I sometimes wished to9 another agent.

    One morning, I had to 10 an immediate flight home for a family emergency. I ran into Rani's office 11. The woman sitting at the desk12 my madness, sympathetically jumped up. She gave me a 13 smile, nodded while listening patiently, and then printed out the 14 immediately. “What a wonderful lady!” I thought.

    Rushing out 15 I called out over my shoulder, “By the way, what's your name?” “I'm Rani,” she said. I turned around and saw a 16 woman with a big smile on her face waving to wish me a safe trip. I was 17! Why had I thought she was cold? Rani was, well, so 18.

Sitting back in the car on the way to the airport, I figured it all out. Rani's 19—her warm smile, her nods, her 'I'm here for you'20—were all silent signals that didn't travel through wires.

    Last Sunday. I went to the neighborhood cafe with my friend. On the way, 1 an old lady,2 cart had been knocked over and her goods were scattered across the pavement. She was 3 her goods. People passing by were 4 her as if she were a beggar.

    I hesitated. Many things were running through my mind. “What should we do?” I asked my friend 5“It's none of our business. 6 you may get both of us into trouble and 7 it if you help,” my friend said 8 and then continued to walk ahead. However, I had great 9 on this poor lady. “She really needs help.” I said seriously and began to 10 the lady.

    I cautiously 11 beside the lady, helping her. I could feel the passers-by eyeing me 12 I knew they were thinking that I was 13 for helping her or that I had knocked over her cart and therefore I was assisting her out of  14.

    “Thank you!” She whispered.

    “You are welcome!” I murmured, offering a 15.

    She also smiled. After all goods were picked up, she slowly rose 16 her feet. She thanked me again, and continued walking down the street. Yet I knew that her smile and 17would always he impressed on my mind.

    At that moment, I didn't care anymore 18 other people thought.

    I smiled to myself because although I had helped that lady in such a 19wav, she had helped me more by showing me how I could be 20 in the world.

    I took my son to a popular restaurant for a lunchtime treat. And it seems everyone else had the same 1. The place was full of 2!

    I drove around the small parking lot (停车场) for 10 minutes 3 a spot (位置). Finally I 4 one. A lady was returning to her car so I 5 her and waited patiently. As I did this I looked in my rear vision mirror (后视镜) and 6 a young man quickly pull up behind me. As soon as he saw my indicator (转向灯) on for the spot, he seemed very 7 and began hitting his steering wheel (方向盘). I knew this wasn't directed at me but at the disappointment that he had 8 a spot. I felt his 9. I too had been 10 the place for ages.

    As the lady left I 11 something that surprised even me. I turned off my indicator and drove straight past. I let the man 12 the spot.

    The man behind me was 13, unsure what to do. 14 I lowered my window and gave him a(n) 15 to take it, calling out at the same time "It's yours."

    I 16 driving further down the road to another car park, where although I had to walk quite a bit further, I was 17 I could. Perhaps the man couldn't walk easily as his 18 wasn't as good as mine? I will 19 know. But I knew the spot20 more to him than it did to me, when I saw him react the way he did.

    I believe in miracles(奇迹) because I've seen so many of them. One day, a patient was referred to me who was one hundred and two years old. "There's a1in my upper jaw," she said. "I told my own dentist it's nothing, but he 2I come to see you."

    Her eighty-year-old son accompanied(陪伴) her. He would3to add something, but she stopped him. She wanted to tell everything herself. I found a large cancer that spread over much of the 4of her mouth. A careful examination later 5that it was a particularly bad sort of cancer.

    During her next appointment, I explained to her the6of the problem She held my hand in hers and said, "I know you're worried about me, but I'm just7."

    I thought otherwise. After a great deal of 8on my part, and kindness on her part because she wanted to 9me, she agreed to have me refer her to a cancer surgeon. She saw him, but as I expected,10treatment.

    About six months later she returned to my office, still energetic and11.

    "How are you?" I asked.

    "I'm just fine, honey," she responded in 12 spirits. "When can I get started on fixing my dentures(假牙)?"

    Surprised to see her at all, I answered 13 ,"Let me take a look in your mouth and we'll see about it. "

    I couldn't believe my eyes. The cancer that had 14 nearly the entire roof of her mouth was gone—only one small area of redness 15.

    I had read of such things happening, but had 16seen them with my own eyes. That was my first miracle. Since then I've seen many others, because they keep getting 17to see. In fact, miracles are daily events for me now. And people are in miracle,18through them we have a chance to know ourselves and to19the miracles of one another.

    Since my first miracle, I've come to understand that a miracle is20we choose to find it.

    There was once a bridge which crossed a large river. During most of the1the bridge sat with its length running up and down the river paralleled with the banks, allowing ships to2through freely on both sides of the bridge. But at certain times each day, a train would come along and the bridge would be turned sideways across the river, allowing a train to cross it.

    A switchman sat in a small house on one side of the river where he3the controls to turn the bridge and lock it into place as the train crossed. One evening4the switchman was waiting for the last train of the day to come, he looked off into the distance and5sight of the trainlights. He stepped to the control and6until the train was within a prescribed(规定的) distance to turn the bridge into7,but, to his horror, he found the locking control did not8. If the bridge was not securely in position it would wobble(摇晃) back and forth at the ends, causing the train to jump the9and go crashing into the river. This would be a passenger train with many people aboard. He10across the bridge to the other side of the river where he would have to hold the lever(控制杆) back11as the train crossed. He could hear the rumble(隆隆声) of the train now, and he took hold of the lever and12backward to apply his13to it, locking the bridge. He kept applying the pressure to keep the mechanism locked. Many lives depended on this man's strength.

    Then, he heard a sound that made his blood run cold. "Daddy, where are you?" His four-year-old son was crossing the bridge to14him. The man almost left his lever to run and seize his son and carry him to15. But he realized that he could not get back to the lever. Either the people on the train or his little son must die. He took a16to make his decision.

    The train sped safely and swiftly on its way, and no one aboard was even17of the tiny broken body, thrown mercilessly into the river by the onrushing train. Nor did they notice the18figure of the sobbing man, still holding tightly the locking lever19after the train had passed. They did not see him walking home more slowly than he had ever walked: to tell his wife20their son had brutally died.

Upon my arrival at Falconwood Apiary, Kaat Kaye is already engrossed in the meticulous inspection of the apian domiciles, oblivious to my arrival. I find myself privy to her soft murmurings directed towards the bees, their mellifluous drone resonating through the atmosphere, interspersed with her gentle words of encouragement and compromise.

Kaye was born with profound auditory impairment. Although she has the capacity to perceive sounds with the aid of auditory prosthetics, she often dispenses with them during her labors. "Acoustic sensations are alien to my experience," she elucidates. "I revel in the tranquility and stillness. In the company of bees, aural perception is superfluous. My concentration is heightened when not beset by incessant auditory distractions."

Adorned with naught but her cowl, apiarian instrument, and device for the emission of smoke, Kaye proceeds with a measured and deliberate gait. In contrast, I am excessively attired, having donned a comprehensive protective garment for our encounter. She advises me to shed the gloves I've brought along and directs me to a position that will minimize the agitation of the bees. Kaye's tender and cautious methodology instills a sense of calm in my presence among her charges. As our time together accrues, my admiration for Kaye's fervor for apiculture and the manner in which her auditory limitations have sculpted her distinctive methodology deepens.

In her vocation, she champions organic apicultural practices that minimize the utilization of chemical treatments. Moreover, she gathers all the requisite intelligence for the stewardship of the hives by depending on her non-auditory senses. Perhaps most notably, what renders Kaye an extraordinary apiarist is almost metaphysical. Excelling in her vocation is inextricably linked to adaptability, navigating the myriad uncertainties that emerge on any given day. Is precipitation excessive? Scarce? When will the flora reach full bloom? Will it yield a bountiful harvest of honey? She responds with alacrity, ensuring not to disrupt the bees' cadence and equilibrium.

"There is a profound, almost spiritual dimension to the craft of beekeeping," she remarked. "You cannot exert absolute dominion over them, akin to any element of the natural world, indeed. Some years bestow upon us an abundant honey harvest. Other years are fraught with adversity, resulting in the loss of half of the hive. There is considerable sorrow but also considerable delight, too, in simply toiling in the great outdoors with these sentient beings—a living, complex superorganism."