It was Christmas Eve 1881. I was 15 years old and feeling like the world was 1 for me because there hadn't been enough money to buy me the rifle that I'd wanted that year.

    Pa came back in and there was ice in his beard. “Come on, Matt,” Pa said. “Dress warmly. It's cold outside. We're going to Widow Jensen's. They are 2 wood.” Widow Jensen lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year or so before and 3 her with three children, the oldest being eight.

    I 4 went out with Pa and we 5 the sled high with wood. 6 we went to the store and Pa took down a big ham, some bacon, a sack of flour and some shoes, which were put into a smaller sack. We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen's in 7. I tried to think through what Pa was doing. I knew we didn't have much money and Widow Jensen had 8 neighbors than us. It shouldn't have been our 9.

    Widow Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had a blanket wrapped around her 10. The children were wrapped in 11 and were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that 12 gave off any heat at all. “We brought you a few things , Ma'am，” Pa said and set down the sack of flour. I put the meat on the table. Then Pa handed her the sack that had the shoes in it.

    She 13 and took the shoes out one pair at a time. I watched her carefully. She bit her lower lip to keep it from 14 and then tears filled her eyes and started running down her cheeks. She looked up at Pa like she wanted to say something, 15 it wouldn't come out. “We brought a load of wood too, Ma'am,” Pa said. Then he turned to me and said，“Matt，go bring some in. ”

    I wasn't the 16 person when I went back out to bring in the wood. I choked and as much as I hate to 17 it, there were tears in my eyes too. In my mind I kept 18 those three kids huddled (蜷缩)around the fireplace and their mother standing there with tears running down her cheeks with so much 19 in her heart that she couldn't speak. Just then the rifle seemed very 20. Pa had given me the best Christmas of my life.

    From my second grade on, there was one event I feared every year: the piano recital(独奏演唱会). A recital 1I had to practice a boring piece of music and perform before strangers. Each year I 2ask my father if I could skip the recital “just this once”. And each year he would shake his head, muttering(嘀咕)3about build self-confidence and working toward a 4.

    So it was with really great5that I stood in church one recent Sunday, video camera in hand, and 6my 68-year-old father sweating in his shirt 7rising to play the piano in his very first recital.

    My father had longed to play music since childhood, but his family was poor and couldn't 8lessons. He could have gone on regretting it,9too many of us do. But though he was rooted in his past, he wasn't 10there. When he retired three years ago, he 11 his church music director to take him as a student.

    For a moment after my father sat down at the keyboard, he 12stared down at his fingers. Has he forgotten the 13? I worried, remembering those split seconds14ago when my mind would go blank and my fingers would 15. But then came the beautiful melody(旋律)，from the 16fingers that once baited(装饵于) my fishing lines. And I17he had been doing what music teachers always stress:18the music and pretend the others aren't there.

     “I'm 19of him for starting something new at his age,” I said to my son Jeff.

    “Yeah, and doing it so20,” Jeff added.

    With his first recital, my father taught me more about courage and determination than all the words he used those 30-plus years ago.

    As a child, I was told that a wise person is the one who learns from everyone. It is a great way to live by this 1 — One begins to look at people very 2 and he no longer puts others 3 in order to feel good about himself.

    Living in China 4 me with many wonderful opportunities to put this principle into practice. China is quite5 and as a Westerner, it's easy for me to consider many of the local habits as “strange” and even “rude”. However, slowly I began to  6 a lot about the culture and about where many of their 7 came from. I decided to make an effort to meet people and 8from them.

    I am living in Harbin now, a city in the Northern part of China, near Russia. Yesterday I 9to get money from the ATM and have a good cup of coffee after lunch. But I can't speak Chinese yet and there are no signs in English 10 the nearest supermarket or coffee shop. There are signs in Russian. 11 “espaciba” which means thanks, I don't know much else. 12 I decided to smile at my every attempt to13and ask for information that would 14 me to an ATM and a coffee shop. It turned out that my efforts and my 15 were met with more smiles. I learned that16is to be found everywhere even 17I cannot communicate, and that people will 18depending on what I give.

    Look around you for opportunities to learn from the most19 people. You will be surprised at what they can 20you!

Three years ago, when I entered my school for the first time, I was welcomed by students wearing white shirts with a badge (徽章) saying "Prefect" on them, who greeted me with the1"Welcome to Huaxia Middle School". I was immediately impressed and2 I could be one of them. Then next year, in the summer of 2016, my wish3 when I was selected to be a prefect. Just like the ones4 me, I was to stand at the school gate and 5 new freshmen.

    So, you may wonder, what 6 is a prefect? Prefects are student leaders in our school. They're usually top students7 from higher grades to help teachers run the school 8 of the classroom9 you're chosen to be a prefect, you need to be a nearly perfect student. Becoming a prefect wasn't10 for me. I used to be sensitive and 11 caring too much about what others thought of me. But since I was12 to become a prefect, I tried my best to be more brave and hardworking, making rapid13in a year.

    The biggest benefit of being a prefect is that it teaches me to be14 and set an example for lower grade students. I was a member of the school soccer team, but I wasn't a good 15 and felt embarrassed about my poor 16. After having some students from lower grades join our team, however, I knew that I had to set a good example. So, I kept practicing my skills and 17 greatly.

Being a prefect doesn't 18 mean I have a badge on my shirt. It also means that I have a hardworking attitude deep in my19"You can make it," I always remind myself. Becoming a prefect has20 me to work harder and become an even better person.

    Valerie was very worried about her dad. For some time now she had noticed he was1his hair. One day, she asked him, "Daddy, every day you have less hair, 2 is that?" Her father smiled and said, “It's the hair thief. He visits my 3during the night when I' m asleep. One by one he pulls out my hair, and there's no way to 4 him.”

    This worried Valerie, but she was 5to help her dad. That night she stayed6as long as she could. When she was 7 her dad and mom had fallen asleep, she took a hammer and went to their bedroom slowly and8.She didn't want the hair thief to 9 her. When she arrived at her father's side, she carefully inspected her father's head in order to catch the hair thief as soon as he 10 . Before long, she saw a shadow on her father's head and she11 it with the hammer

    Her father 12 a loud cry and got out of bed at once. He turned the 13on, and trembling with14, he saw Valerie waving her hammer in the air. Daddy. I 15got him. But it looks like he 16! "said Valerie. Meanwhile the mother17She burst into 18when she knew what had happened

    So Valerie's father had to explain that the hair thief didn't exist, and that losing hair is something that just happens naturally to most fathers. Valerie still 19 about her daddy, but she no longer waited for the hair thief. 20, she bought her father a very nice sleeping hat.

    "Paul must have been trying to carry his waste paper to garbage can and dropped a few pieces." I1, picking them up.2later I found more pieces. No quiet sighing this time. I3, "Who is throwing garbage?" No answer. Instead, I saw more bits of paper4floating down from upstairs. Looking up. I saw my seven-year-old son, Paul.

    "Stop making a mess." "It's not a mess. They're5." "Sorry, what did you say?" I hadn't heard him clearly.

    He didn't answer me. Paul has autism (自闭症) and6answers a question, especially when he's7attentively on something else. He ran down the stairs. "Where are my other butterflies he asked,8around. Every time Paul9five or more words together, my heart says a10of thanks. But lately he seems to11that the benefits of forming complete sentences when communicating are12of the effort.

    Butterflies. Of course. I rushed to13them from the garbage,14them off and handed them to my young artist "Want to see them15again?" he asked with a shy smile. "Oh yes! They're beautiful." I whispered. He ran back upstairs to float his16down again. They really did look like beautiful butterflies.

    That day Paul17me to look up at18instead of down at garbage. How many other masterpieces (杰作) do I miss because I'm too caught up in my19to take time to appreciate what's right in front of me? Life is not what happens to us. It's20we look at it Now, I look up.