After my husband, Steven, arrived in Sydney on his own from India, he stayed in a hotel for a short time while1a house for me and our children.

    During the first week of his2,he went out one day to do some shopping. He came back in the late afternoon to3that his suit, case was gone. He was extremely worried4the suitcase had all his important papers,5his passport.

    He reported the6to the police and then sat there,7and lonely in a strange city, thinking of the terrible troubles of8all the paperwork organized again from a9country while trying to 10in a new one.

    Late in the evening, the phone rang. It was a stranger. He was trying to 11my husband's name and was asking him a lot of questions. Then he said they had found a pile of papers in their trash can（垃圾桶）that had been left out on the12.

    My husband rushed to their home to find a kind family 13all his papers and documents. Their young daughter had gone to the trash can and found a pile of 14papers. Her parents had carefully 15them out, although they had found mainly foreign16on most of the documents. At last they had seen a half-written letter in the pile in which my husband had given his new 17number to a friend.

    That family not only returned the important documents to us that day but also 18our faith and 19in people. We still remember their 20and often send a warm wish their way.

    “How did you do it, Dad? How have you 1 not to take a drink for almost 20 years？” It took me almost 20 years to have the2to even ask my father this very 3question. When Dad first4drinking, the whole family was on pins and needles5 he got into a situation that, in the past, would have started him drinking again. For a few years we were6to bring it up for fear that the drinking would begin again.

    “I had this little7 that I would recite to myself8four to five times a day.” was Dad's9to my 18 year old unasked question. “The10 were an instant relief and constant reminder to me that things were never so 11that I could not handle them，” Dad said. And then he 12the poem with me. The poem's simple, yet profound (深奥的) words13became part of my daily routine as well.

    About a month after this talk with my father, I14a gift in the mail from a friend of mine. It was a book of affirmations (断言)with one affirmation listed for each15of the year.

    I16opened the book to the page of my birthday to see what words of wisdom this book had in store for me.17of disbelief and appreciation rolled down my face. There, on my birthday, was the18poem that had helped my19for all these years! It is called The Serenity Prayer.

    God, give me the serenity (平静) to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to20the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

    When I was three, Connie, my new sister, was born on December 17, 1993. Eleven months later, this smiling child was diagnosed with Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia (ALL). The doctors at John Hopkins gave her an 8% 1 of survival. With the help of our 2 parents, Connie was able to fight against the disease and 3 went into remission（缓解期）. Months later, Connie had a relapse（复发）. After a (n)4 second relapse in 1996, with a survival rate now at only 1%, the doctors5 a bone marrow transplant（骨髓移植）was the best route to take. After 6 our blood types, the doctors found an exact7.Me. I was honored to be able to help my sister.

    After the bone marrow transplant Connie spent her summers in the neighborhood pool. She could always be8running around the house in bathing suit. Staying in the remission for five years would mean Connie's cancer would be 9 But before Connie could10 year three, cancerous cells started to 11 her body once more; she relapsed.

    Connie 12 during this relapse. becoming progressively13 During the summer of 1999, she was not able to14 in the pool or ride her bike. She spent her summer days in hospital.

    When November 15 around, Connie hit rock bottom. The doctors said it was her 16. When I was nine years old, on November 19, 1999, my family and I said our goodbye to a child who did not live 17 the age of six.

    Connie is a 18to my family and me. She is a role model to people who knew her. Her bravery and courage was greater than19I know. Connie has taught me by example: it is hard to 20 a person who never gives up.

    As a child I was always good at drawing and art. I won1 got constant attention, and even saw my face in the2 and on television because of my natural ability to 3.

    Most people who4 to come across something that they are good at are 5 to take it and run with it. Of course, my life was no6. From teachers, to principals, to family members7 seemingly had a ton of advice to give me in regards to art.

    All the while, my true desire was8 I entered poetry, essay, and short - story contests and9them all. It was such a contrast from my artistic10 experience! It was so bad that I11 a good friend of mine who told me once, “If you are so good at drawing why do you even care about writing?12 drawing!”

    Though well intended, eighteen years later I'm 13I didn't take his words to heart. Years went by with me still writing and still occasionally entering 14.It wasn't until my first year in college that I finally got honorable 15 in a poetry contest. As a writer I've truly 16.

    I'm sure there are things in your life that are17and yet, rewarding. Endurance (忍耐), especially when it comes to things you truly love is18. Take some time to devote some more 19to the “thing” that didn't come 20and see what happens.

    The day that I will always remember is when I ran my first 10km.While putting my toe on the starting 1, I felt my heart drop to my stomach. However, I would 2 my heart, because in running, when you run out of your 3, you just run with your heart.

    That day the 4 was cool and fresh, and my courage had 5. The race was about to start. Bang! The 6 of the starting gun ran into the air. I took off running, 7 like the wind. I knew it would be a really great 8 for me. In the first four miles, I felt like a cheetah (猎豹). I felt 9 and forceful in my pace.

    Then came the fifth mile. My legs 10 like jelly(果冻), and I could feel fire burning in my lungs, “keep 11!” the thought ran through my head. Now was the time I had to run with my 12. I had to win although I didn't know whether I would 13 it. My body really wanted to 14, but my heart told me not to. I think it's the 15 thing about running. The real run starts when you want to 16.

I saw the finishing line and I felt like an Olympic 17 who was about to win the race. I had 18 been happier, and felt proud too when I had my 19 put around my neck. As the saying goes, “Running is the greatest metaphor (比喻) for life, 20 you get out of it what you put into it.”

    That holiday morning I didn't have to attend school.Usually, on holidays, Mother1me to sleep in. And I would certainlytake full advantage of it. On this particular morning, 2, I felt like getting up early.

    I stood by my window overlooking the 3, having nothing better to do. But asit turned out, I was soon to learn about something 4 in life.

    As I watched several people go by, get into their cars andgo off, I 5 an old man on a bicycle with a bucket on its 6 and a basket rags and bottles on itsback-carriage. He 7 from one car to another, washing and cleaningthem. From the water on the ground, it seemed that he had already 8 washing and cleaning about a dozen or morecars. He must have begun to work quite early in the morning.

    Several thoughts 9my mind as I watched him work. He wasn'twell-dressed. He had on a pair of shorts and a(n) 10 T-shirt. The bicycle he rode was not by anymeans the kind modern 11would want to be seen riding on. But heseemed12 with life. There he was, working hard at hissmall business, 13 at passers-by and stopping to chat now andthen 14 elderly men and women on their way to themarket nearby.

    There was a noticeable touch of15 in the way he seemedto be doing things— 16the windscreen, then standing back toadmire it; scrubbing the wheels and 17, standing back to see what they looklike after the scrub.

    It was a 18 to learn, I felt. At no age need one have tobeg for a 19if one has good health and is willingto work hard. For a while I felt 20 of myself. Young as I am—just sixteen, andthere was this old man who must have been usefully engaged perhaps before thesun appeared above the horizon.