The old man walked with a cane (拐杖) slowly into the restaurant. His poor jacket, patched (打补丁的) trousers, and worn-out shoes made him stand out from the usual Saturday morning breakfast crowd. Unforgettable were his pale blue eyes that sparkled (闪光) like diamonds, large rosy cheeks, and thin lips that held a steady smile. He walked toward a table by the window. A young waitress watched him and ran over to him, saying, “Here, Sir. Let me give you a hand with that chair.” Without a word, he smiled and nodded a thank you. She pulled the chair away from the table. Supporting him with one arm, she helped him move in front of the chair, and get comfortably seated. Then she pushed the table up close to him, and leaned his cane against the table where he could reach it. In a soft, clear voice he said, “Thank you, Miss.” “You're welcome, Sir.” She replied. “My name is Mary. I'll be back in a moment. If you need anything, just wave at me.”

    After he had finished a hearty meal of pancakes, bacon, and hot lemon tea, Mary brought him the change, helping him up from his chair and out from behind the table. She handed him his cane, and walked with him to the front door. Holding the door open for him, she said, “Come back and see us, Sir!” He nodded a thank you and said softly with a smile, “You are very kind!”

    When Mary went to clean his table, she was shocked. Under his plate she found a business card and a note written on the napkin, under which was a $ 100 bill. The note on the napkin read, “Dear Mary, I respect you very much, and you respect yourself, too. It shows by the way you treat others. You have found the secret of happiness. Your kind gestures will shine through those who meet you.”

    The man she had served was the owner of the restaurant. This was the first time that she, or any of his employees, had seen him in person.

    A schoolgirl saved her father's life by kicking him in the chest after he suffered a serious allergic (过敏的) reaction which stopped his heart.

Izzy, nine, restarted father Colm's heart by stamping (踩) on his chest after he fell down at home and stopped breathing.

    Izzy's mother, Debbie, immediately called 999 but Izzy knew doctors would never arrive in time to save her father, so decided to use CPR.

However, she quickly discovered her arms weren't strong enough, so she stamped on her father's chest instead.

    Debbie then took over with some more conventional chest compressions (按压) until the ambulance arrived.

    Izzy, who has been given a bravery award by her school, said: "I just kicked him really hard. My mum taught me CPR but I knew I wasn't strong enough to use hands. I was quite scared. The doctor said I might as well be a doctor or a nurse. My mum said that Dad was going to hospital with a big footprint on his

"She's a little star," said Debbie, "i was really upset but Izzy just took over. I just can't believe what she did. I really think all children should be taught first aid. Izzy did CPR then the doctor turned up. Colm had to have more treatment on the way to the hospital and we've got to see an expert."

    Truck driver Colm, 35, suffered a mystery allergic reaction on Saturday and was taken to hospital, but was sent home only for it to happen again the next day. The second attack was so serious that his airway swelled, preventing him from breathing, his blood pressure dropped suddenly, and his heart stopped for a moment.

    He has now made a full recovery from his suffering.

    One afternoon I toured an art museum while waiting for my husband to finish a business meeting. I was looking forward to a quiet view of the art works.

    A young couple viewing the paintings ahead of me chatted nonstop between themselves. I watched them a moment and decided the wife was doing all the talking. I admired his patience for putting up with her continuous talk. Distracted by their noise, I moved on.

    I met with them several times as I moved through the different rooms of art. Each time I heard her constant burst of words, I moved away quickly.

    I was standing at the counter of the museum gift shop making a purchase when the couple came near to the exit. Before they left, the man reached into his pocket and pulled out a white object. He extended it into a long stick and then tapped his way into the coatroom to get his wife's jacket.

    "He's a brave man.," the clerk at the counter said, "Most of us would give up if we were blinded at such a young age. During his recovery, he made a promise that his life wouldn't change. So, as before, he and his wife come in whenever there's a new art show."

    "But what does he get out of the art?" I asked. "He can't see."

    "Can't see? You're wrong. He sees a lot. More than you or I do," the clerk said. "His wife describes each painting so he can see it in his head."

    I learned something about patience, courage and love that day. I saw the patience of a young wife describing paintings to a person without sight and the courage of a husband who would not allow blindness to change his life. And I saw the love shared by two people as I watched this couple walk away.

    I sat with my friend in a well-known coffee shop in a neighboring town of Venice. As we enjoyed our coffee, a man called the waiter and placed his order, “Two cups of coffee, one on the wall.” We got interested and observed that he was served with one cup of coffee but he paid for two. As soon as he left, the waiter attached a piece of paper to the wall saying “A Cup of Coffee.” Similar occasions took place twice while we were there. It seemed that this gesture was quite normal at this place. However, it was something unique and confusing for us.

    After a few days, when we again enjoyed coffee there, a man entered. The way this man was dressed did not match the standard or the atmosphere of this coffee shop. Poverty was evident from his looks. As he seated himself, he looked at the wall and said, “One cup of coffee from the wall.” The waiter served coffee to this man with respect and dignity. The man had his coffee and left without paying. We were amazed to watch all this when the waiter took off a piece of paper from the wall and threw it in the dustbin.

    Now it was no surprise for us; the matter was very clear. The great respect for the needy shown by people in this town moved us to tears.

    Coffee is not a necessity. However, the point is that when we take pleasure in any blessing, maybe we also need to think about those people who also appreciate that specific blessing but cannot afford.

    Note the waiter, who gets the communication going between the affording and the needy with a smile on his face. Think about the man in need: he enters the coffee shop without having to lower his self-dignity; he has a free cup of coffee without asking or knowing about who has given this cup of coffee to him; he only looked at the wall, placed an order for himself, enjoyed his coffee and left. Besides, we need to remember the role played by the wall that reflects the generosity and care of people in this town.

    Sometimes just when we need the power of miracles to change our beliefs, they materialize in the places we'd least expect. They can come to us as a great change in our physical reality or as a simple coincidence in our lives. Sometimes they're big and can't be missed. Other times they're so subtle that if we aren't aware, we may miss them altogether. They can come from the lips of a stranger we suddenly and mysteriously meet at just the right instant. If we listen carefully, we'll always hear the right words, at the right time, to dazzle (目眩) us into a realization of something that we may have failed to notice only moments before.

    On a cold January afternoon in 1989, I was hiking up the trail that leads to the top of Egypt's Mt. Horeb. I'd spent the day at St. Catherine's Monastery and wanted to get to the peak by sunset to see the valley below. As I was winding up the narrow path, I'd occasionally see other hikers who were coming down from a day on the mountain. While they would generally pass with simply a nod or a greeting in another language, there was one man that day who did neither.

    I saw him coming from the last switchback on the trail that led to the backside of the mountain. As he got closer, I could see that he was dressed differently from the other hikers I'd seen. Rather than the high-tech fabrics and styles that had been the norm, this man was wearing traditional Egyptian clothing. He wore a tattered, rust-colored galabia and obviously old and thick-soled sandals that were covered in dust. What made his appearance so odd, though, was that the man didn't even appear to be Egyptian! He was a small-framed Asian man, had very little hair, and was wearing round, wire-rimmed glasses.

    As we neared one another, I was the first to speak, "Hello," I said, stopping on the trail for a moment to catch my breath. Not a sound came from the man as he walked closer. I thought that maybe he hadn't heard me or the wind had carried my voice away from him in another direction. Suddenly he stopped directly in front of me on the high side of the trail, looked up from the ground, and spoke a single sentence to me in English, "Sometimes you don't know what you have lost until you've lost it." As I took in what I had just heard, he simply stepped around me and continued his going down the trail.

    That moment in my life was a small miracle. The reason is less about what the man said and more about the timing and the context. The year was 1989, and the Cold War was drawing to a close. what the man on the trail couldn't have known is that it was during my Egyptian pilgrimage (朝圣), and specifically during my hike to the top of Moses's mountain, that I'd set the time aside to make decisions that would affect my career in the defense industry, my friends, my family, and, ultimately, my life.

    I had to ask myself what the chances were of an Asian man dressed in an Egyptian galabia coming down from the top of this historic mountain just when I was walking up, stopping before me, and offering his wisdom, seemingly from out of nowhere. My answer to my own question was easy: the odds were slim to none! In a meet that lasted less than two minutes on a mountain halfway around the world from my home, a total stranger had brought clarity and the hint of a warning, regarding the huge changes that I would make within a matter of days. In my way of thinking, that's a miracle.

    I suspect that we all experience small miracles in our lives every day. Sometimes we have the wisdom and the courage to recognize them for what they are In the moments when we don't, that's okay as well. It seems that our miracles have a way of coming back to us again and again. And each time they do, they become a little less subtle, until we can't possibly miss the message that they bring to our lives!

    The key is that they're everywhere and occur every day for different reasons, in response to the different needs that we may have in the moment. Our job may be less about questioning the extraordinary things that happen in our daily lives and more about accepting the gifts they bring.

    On one occasion, while visiting my parents, I happened to meet the little boy who lived next door. It was obvious that his mother had told him not to come over uninvited. He was standing on the very edge of his yard with an anxious look on his face, seemingly about to burst.

    My father waved him over and performed the introductions. "Eliot, this is my son, Gary. Gary, meet my little friend, Eliot." To my delight, he reached out his small hand and I accepted the formality(遵守礼节) with a smile.

    Unlike most children, this teenager was not shy of meeting a stranger. As a matter of fact, he turned out to be quite a chatterbox. Eliot had me laughing as I listened to the excitement in his voice. for, as you know, it was a big deal to find a toad (蟾蜍)! His descriptions were priceless as I asked the obvious questions concerning the capture(捕捉). He was pleased that I showed interest in his adventure and gladly explained its details.

    Since Eliot seemed so willing to invest in our budding friendship, I asked him a question, "Do you like banjo music?" He got very excited and answered me with a hearty "Yes!"

    I took out my banjo from the car, but when I sat next to him and started playing, Eliot looked at me with a puzzled expression. He asked me "What's that?" in all seriousness.

    My dad and I smiled. The boy who just "loved" the banjo didn't recognize that I was holding one and that what I was playing was "banjo music".

    I realized that his heart was in the right place. Eliot just wanted to please his new friend with that "Yes", thinking it was what I wanted to hear.

    Well anyway...Eliot likes the banjo for real now. And I like Eliot.