My 4-year-old son now enjoys posting letters. He has formed the 1 of drawing pictures, writing his name on them, and then  2 the artwork in an envelope. He then insists on 3 his handwork to the neighbors, and a mail box he 4 belongs to the elderly couple who live next door. To be 5, I didn't think much of it, but I had 6 to warn my neighbors of the drawings 7 appearing in their letterboxes—I just didn't have the 8 to do so, because I was a little busy recently.

    On Tuesday of last week, I was walking down to school to collect my son when I 9 Mary, my elderly neighbor, 10 at her mail box. She said, “Jodie, is it your little son that has been posting items in my letterbox to me?” I was at once 11, “Oh yes, Mary, it is. I'm sorry. I meant to tell you…” She cut me off, “Jodie, I just love his mail. I've 12 every item he has sent. You don't know how much 13 the letters has made my day. I just love them.” While I was walking down to school after our 14, many thoughts came to me. Mary doesn't have a lot to fill her days, 15 she was a mother to a number of children herself who receives fairly regular visitors. The small 16 of getting some mail—pictures drawn by the hand of a young child—has brought 17 to her days, just as my visit to my grandparents does.

    I have decided that my son should 18 this practice. He should also start sending some items to his grandparents in Perth as well. It will most 19 make their day.

    It's doing the little, simple things that can often make a big 20 in someone's life.

The Gift at the Parking Lot

    I never thought I would be writing about a trip to the convenience store. It was just a month after my grandmother had 1 and I did useless things hoping to fill the hole in my heart and make me forget the pain.

    In the store, I was upset because I couldn't even remember 2 I went there to buy so I ended up buying something 3. As I walked out of the store to get my car, I was 4 angry at everything that was going on around me, which was a very 5feeling at that time. Feeling 6, my belief in God was beginning to fade.

    Suddenly, a woman driving right by my side rolled down her 7."Excuse me, excuse me." she said loudly.8 she was going to ask for my parking spot, I 9 pointed to my car. "No, excuse me," she said again.

    At this point, I felt I had no 10 but to see what this 11 lady wanted. As I got closer, I realized that she was 12 something in her bag. Surprisingly, I was overcome with a sense of relief while others would be 13 in this situation. Finally, she 14 me a booklet (小册子), which read "What Hope for Dead Loved Ones?" "Maybe you need this," she said calmly 15 a warm smile on her face. However, 16 I could thank her, she was gone.

    I felt a sense of 17 as I opened the first page. It 18 how people pass on, but their spirit 19 with us. This was the first time since my grandma had died that I had felt her with me and I began to feel hope again. It was a unique 20. And, I'll remember it for the rest of my life.

A Commitment to Life

    The snow was falling and the roads had become dangerous. The schools were dismissed early, but much to my surprise, my 1 wasn't canceled. So I went, feeling especially heroic. As far as I could see, I was risking my life to keep my 2. 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't 4. Four more “hero-types” were already lying back in donor chairs with lines 5 to their veins(静脉), and machines quietly pumping away to 6 their 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 7 to the life of someone I would never 8.

    To be honest, I'd never really thought about why I donate. I just did it. 9 a few months ago, during one of my 10 donations 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 center 11 ever since.

    My wife Karen is a 12, too. And more importantly, she has been on the bone marrow (骨髓) list for fifteen years, ever since she 13 to provide bone marrow to a kindergartner with leukemia(白血病). That little girl died before Karen's bone marrow could help her, but Karen was called again recently. Her test results were still on file, and it turned out she was a potential 14 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 race 15 time.

    I wish I could say that this 16 was won. It wasn't. The caller later thanked Karen for her participation and asked a few more questions—including whether or not she'd 17on the donor list. “Of course,” Karen answered.

    Last week Karen gave blood and next week I'll make my usual donation. I'll clear an afternoon from my schedule and make an appointment. I don't know whose life my donation may 18. Most likely it will be a 19, but on any day the person needing blood could be you or me or maybe a loved one. It is worthwhile to 20our time to donate.

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

    My 9-year-old daughter and I were flying from our home in Carolina to spend a week with my husband in Florida. We were 1 about the trip because we hadn't seen him for five months, and my daughter 2 her Dad terribly.

    As usual on the Charlotte-to-Miami flight, the plane was totally 3. Because we did not get our boarding passes until we 4 at the gate, Kallie and I could not get seats together and were 5 by the aisle (过道). I asked two passengers in my row if they would switch places with Kallie and me, 6 we could be together. They 7, saying they thought they should stay in their assigned seats. Meanwhile, a mother and her three children were in a 8 several rows ahead of us. There had been a mistake in their boarding passes, and 9 the whole family had been split up. The passengers in her row10 refused to move elsewhere. She was very 11 about the younger boy sitting with strangers. She was in tears, yet nobody 12 to help her. There were a troop of Boy Scouts(童子军) on 13. Suddenly the Scout leader stood up and said, “Ma'am, I think we can help you.” He then14 five minutes rearranging his group so that enough space was  15 for the family. The boys followed his directions cheerfully and without 16, and the mother's relief was obvious.

    Kallie, however, was beginning to panic at the 17of not being next to me. I told her that there wasn't anything I could do. 18, the man sitting next to the Scoutmaster, 19to me and asked, “Would you and your daughter like our seats?” 20 to himself and the Scoutmaster. We traded seats and continued our trip, very much relieved to be together and watch the scenery from Kallie's window sea.

    I learned about life from an ant farm. When I was seven years old, my family tried to 1 an ant farm at home. First, we put clean sand in a thin glass box, and then we brought some ants from the backyard and placed them into the 2 home.

    Shortly after the new 3 were dropped into the glass structure, they got to work making tunnels. I was amazed that each one knew 4 what to do. After hours of staring, I realized that the ants had particular given jobs. With my mom's help, I kept a journal of what happened each day and 5 the ants. My favorite was the biggest, Cinderella. I drew a picture of her in my journal, which I still have.

    On day five a disaster 6 the ant farm. While I was 7 the ants, I had put my face so close to the structure that I accidentally tipped it over, 8 in all the tunnels. Although the ants 9 their earthquake, one by one they began to die. I was 10 as I watched them give up their tunnel-building to carry the bodies to a corner of the farm. My mother reported that the ants were dying of "frustration"—feeling annoyed and impatient as they couldn't control the situation. They simply could not 11 the reality that their tunnels had been destroyed. Cinderella was the last to die; she did so while carrying a dead ant on her back.

    Although much time has passed, I still think of that ant farm. Mom had hoped it would teach me about the natural world, 12it taught me much more. 13 the years, I came to realize the ants were a study in the benefits of 14. Working together, they were able to create a(n) 15 world for themselves. I also learned that they should be 16 for their hard work. Day in and day out, each labored at their task. The ant farm demonstrated that teamwork and perseverance are indeed two key 17 to success. But there was an even larger lesson that I did not 18 until recently: Disaster is a natural part of life, and must be 19. Unlike the ants, humans cannot give up when they face 20. Unlike the ants, we have to realize that if a tunnel caves in, we just have to build another.

    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.