View life from new angles

    When I was 14, life felt dull and boring. The high school I went to had over a thousand students, I didn't really 1 to notice the differences between us all.

    Butth is dull view of mine 2 when my parents bought me a camera for 3Even though I didn't 4 the first thing about photography, I dived headfirst into the medium. It was after a month of playing with my new camera when I realized I had no 5 for taking pictures. My photos were clearly 6 something of importance and lacked 7. After a while, I became so 8 with my lack of artistic talent that I quit my new hobby.

    During the summer break, I suddenly decided to pick it 9 again. I went for a walk on the railroad track behind my house. Surprisingly, this walk on the tracks was 10 began my love for photography. When I was walking on the train tracks 11 a model to photograph and only 12 around me, I 13 how important it was to look at the details of things. I didn't worry about trying to create something beautiful. Instead, I just 14 photos of the beauty already around me. I quickly became 15 to color, lighting, shape, shading and everything in between. After months of studying outdoor 16, I was finally able to create beauty of my own and my work has been 17 in two small magazines.

    Slowly, my photos became something I was 18 of. They're not masterpieces, but they're important to me. And they're signs of how much my artistic abilities have 19: I went from zero artistic talent to being published.

    20 this Christmas gift from my parents, I now have a new way of looking at the world.

    One day, a poor boy who was trying to pay his schooling by selling goods from door to door found that he only had one dime left. He was hungry so he decided to 1 for a meal at the next house.

    However, he lost his nerve 2 a lovely young woman opened the door. Instead of a meal he asked for a drink of water. She thought he looked 3so she brought him a large glass of milk. He drank it 4, and then asked, “How much do I owe you?”

    “You don't owe me anything,” she 5. “Mother has taught me never to accept pay for a 6” He said, “Then I thank you from the bottom of my heart.” As Howard Kelly left that house, he not only felt stronger 7, but it also increased his faith in God and human race. He was about to give up and quit before this point.

    Years later the young woman became seriously ill. The local doctors were confused. They finally sent her to the big city, where specialists can be called in to study her rare disease. Dr. Howard Kelly，now 8, was called in for the consultation. When he heard the name of the town she came from, a strange light 9 his eyes. Immediately, he 10 and went down through the hospital hall into her room. 11 in his doctor s gown he went in to see her. He 12 her at once. He went back to the consultation room and 13 to do his best to save her life. From that day on, he gave 14 attention to her case.

    After a long 15 the battle was won. Dr. Kelly 16 the business office to pass the final bill to him for 17.

    He looked at it and then wrote something on the side. The bill was sent to her room. She was afraid to open it because she was negative that it would take the rest of her life to pay it off. Finally she looked, and the note on the side of the bill caught her 18. She read these words...

“Paid in full with a glass of 19.” (Signed) Dr. Howard Kelly.

    Tears of joy flooded her eyes as she 20 silently. “Thank you, God. Your love has spread through human hearts and hands.”

    My father was a self-taught mandolin（曼陀林琴）player. He could not read, but if he heard a tune several times, he could play it. Occasionally, he 1 play for the local radio station.

    Dad loved playing the mandolin for his family. He knew we enjoyed his playing. If he could give 2 to others, he would, especially for his family. He was always 3 his time and efforts to making sure his family had enough in their life.

    Later, I matured into a man and had my own children. Whenever coming home, I would ask Dad to play the mandolin, for nobody played the mandolin like him. He could 4 your soul with tunes coming out of that old mandolin. He seemed to 5 when playing, taking pride in his ability to play so well.

    Unfortunately, in 1977. Dad was 6 in an accident, leaving his third finger of his left hand wounded seriously. 7 he didn't lose enough of the finger where it would stop him picking up anything, it did affect his 8 to play the mandolin. After the accident, he was 9 to play and felt unable to play as well as before. Every time we asked him to play, he would make excuses. 10, we could persuade him and he would say "Okay. But I can't hold down on the strings and play as well as before." For the family it made no 11. When he played the old mandolin, it would carry us back to a cheerful, happier time.

    In August 1993, Dad was 12 with serious disease. He chose not to receive any chemotherapy(化疗)treatments 13 he could live out his rest life in dignity(尊严). A week before his death, we asked Dad if he would play the mandolin for his family. First he made the usual 14 again but later said "Okay.", 15 it was likely to be the last chance for us to hear him playing. He tuned up the old mandolin and played. 16, I found everyone in the family 17. We saw before us a quiet humble man with an inner 18 that lives with him in his life.

    Dad would never play the mandolin for us again, but we still 19 the most valuable gift we gained from him, 20 he had done all his life, giving.

The snow arrived earlier than predicted as I1 grocery bags into the Chevy's trunk and shut the hatch. Several feet of snow already covered our community, and this new2 was, of course, another cruel3 . "It'll probably be the disaster of this century, "I complained, thinking about the past few difficult years. Id4 the illness and the financial loss, but something else was5 me —the hopelessness that results from6 goals, 

Usually a positive person of7 , I had always viewed life as a series of problems to8 . 

Though I thought I'd handled the dilemmas well, I hadn't9 that the real me, the one whose passion for life had10 others, had burned out. In the past year, I had been faced with11 choices, and I'd made critical12 . Now I was afraid to trust my judgment and my future. 

When nighttime arrived, I decided to take a walk. Outside, my feet seemed to be13 in the endless white as I walked along snowy fields toward the forest. Somewhere along my journey, I realized I'd been crying. Pausing to catch my breath, I felt a moment's14 I'd traveled off the recognizable path from my home. Tired and defeated, I fell and15 against a very strong trunk,16 my head on my drawn-up knees17 . A deer stood only a few inches away, locking her stare on mine. A few minutes passed, she stepped closer and lowered her head to18 my pocket as if to be in search of food. I felt my pocket and offered an apple to her gently. 

"Mistakes can bring positive outcomes, after all. " Excited by my new19 , I moved ahead, growing tired but pressing onward. It's the20 and willingness to learn from the past and then press onward that can lead to a joyful future. 

Devin Jackson, who went from selling tickets to tourists on Times Square to working as an engineer for a number of major corporations, told ABC News that he was 1 that there weren't many Black engineers or coders in the industry. So he decided to do something about it and 2 . 

In 2017, Jackson co-founded the non-profit organization We Build Black which 3 meetups, training courses and workshops for up-and-4 Black engineers. 

In the six years since it 5 , Jackson said his organization has raised millions of dollars, and trained and helped over 3,000 members with their 6 . 

"I became a software engineer and realized that I need to share the 7 with everybody around me and, you know, show my community 8 those freedoms," Jackson said. 

Sheree Edmund, a software engineer, told ABC News that the program allowed her the 9 to grow and have a space to pursue computer programing. Edmund, who was 10 with high functioning autism (孤独症) three years ago, said "It was a community, and an atmosphere where I didn't feel like I had to 11 who I was to fit in. And that made it a lot less 12 to be my real self. "

Jackson encouraged others to 13 their interest in tech and engineering skills, no matter how hard it may seem to 14 the industry. 

"You got to control what you can control at the end of the day and what you control is 15 ," he said. "So get to the grind (磨炼). That's really what I want you to take from this at the end of the day. "

I've been writing now for 34 years. It all started when I was just 18 years. As a boy growing up, I probably read hundreds of books. I read mysteries, science fiction, thrillers, and just about any other type of book I could find. I had a thirst for knowledge that never seemed to disappear, no matter how many books I read over the years.

Then suddenly, I found that I too had ideas of my own that I wanted to write and share. I wanted to share things that were full of goodness, love, joy, and happiness. I tried to ignore my desire at first, but as any writer will tell you, once ideas awaken inside of you, they don't leave you alone until you write them down. I didn't have a computer, or even a typewriter, but I grabbed a pen and a notebook and wrote down everything that was burning inside of me.

When I was finally done, I didn't know how to share my work with the world. There was no Internet back then, no smartphones, and no social media. However, I sought out the editor of my local newspaper and asked if he would like to print what I'd written. He was a good man, full of both wisdom and kindness. He not only printed my first story but agreed to publish anything else I was willing to write.

After that, of course, nothing could stop me. I continued to write new articles each week, which were published in different local papers and later on the Internet. Years later I even self-published two collections of my stories in book form.

Through my writing, I slowly became a better person. Writing allowed me to discover the goodness and light that exist in us all. I also found that we are all writers whether we put pen to paper or not.

With every choice we make, with every thought we think, and with every action we take, we are writing our own life story.