I learned my first lesson at a meeting. As we sat around the table I heard Meg, who was 1 a recent operation, talking to Judith, the manager of our project. “Thank you so much for 2my daughters to their dance lessons last week.” “Don't mention it,” Judith says, “It was nothing.”

    Knowing how 3Judith's schedule is, with her work, kids and aging parents, I found her driving Meg's children to lessons unbelievably 4. I was about to say more about this when Donna, another colleague, entered the room 5. She apologized for being late, saying she just hosted a lunch for her friends who are over seventy. “That is so nice of you,” I say,6 how busy she was, how she didn't like to cook and clean. “Oh,” she said, waving her hand, “It was nothing.”7, I could still tell the 8in her voice. She did gain a sense of satisfaction from the entertainment offered to her friends.

Seeing their 9to help others selflessly, I started thinking about the concept of “nothing”, this peaceful and generous way of living— had it really been nothing or were they simply saying that? It 10to me that once I spent a whole afternoon after work helping a friend 11a speech. I 12her to rearrange the sequence of the stories in the lecture to make it sound more 13. After the fifth try, she finally 14it. She hugged me with 15, saying thanks to me. I smiled and said it was nothing.

    Suddenly, I realized that helping someone was really something to me. I learned that giving from the heart doesn't 16mean sacrifice and hard work. The 17is finding something we love to do and finding someone who 18that something. Our generosity pan benefit others 19ourselves. Once you have a good 20of it, it's nothing. And it's really something.

    In March 2007,I was recovering from an operation for breast cancer and going through a terrible time. I spent my days at home1everything to myself. Then one of my colleagues suggested2“Why don't you pick a couple of days and go to Ireland and escape?” I3the tip.

    The trip was fun, but when I got on the4to go home ,I wasn't feeling well. My plan was to sleep for the5journey, but the guy next to me looked good-hearted for a conversation6he had kind eyes.

    “I had an operation,” I said7'I had breast cancer.' 'He paused for a moment and said,“ What's wrong with that? Breast cancer is just a small8of you, like going to college or getting married.”

    I could feel my eyes9up with tears.

    “Don't think too much of your problem,” he said. “Instead, think about how many people you could help.”

    I had tears coming down my face, and said, “I can't10I'm crying in front of you, I don't11know you.”

    “Look, you have a12in life,” he said. “You can either13your things deep in your pockets and take them to your grave, or you can help someone.”

    I've always been a very14person, and aside from the few people who needed to know, I'd kept my illness secret. I didn't want to be15by my weakness.

    But this man, whose name was Ken Duane, showed me that my illness gave me16-because it gave me the ability to17someone else's load. I decided at that moment that I was going to try to help others by sharing my story18,in hopes of inspiring those who were in the same or similar situation. Later that year, I talked about my illness and my19with Ken on air.

    I am forever20that I never took a nap on that flight over the Atlantic.

    In spite of the fun and laughter, 13-year-old Frank Wilson was not happy. It was 1 that he received all the presents he wanted. And he also 2 the big Christmas dinner with family members.3, Frank was not happy because this was his first Christmas without his brother, Steve, who during the year, had been killed in a car accident. Frank 4 his brother.

    Frank said good-bye to his relatives, and explained to his parents that he was going to see a friend. Since it was cold outside, Frank 5 his new plaid jacket. It was his favorite gift. He placed the other presents on his new sled (雪橇). Then Frank 6.

    As Frank went down the street toward home, through one front window, he saw a room with old 7 hanging over an empty fireplace. A woman was seated nearby, crying. The stockings 8 him of the way he and his brother always 9 theirs side by side. The next morning, they would find presents.

    Then Frank had a10. He knocked on the door. “Yes?” the 11voice of a woman asked. “May I come in?” asked Frank. “You are very welcome,” she said.12his sled full of gifts and thinking he wanted to 13 gifts. “But I have no food or gifts for you. I have 14 for my own children.” “That's not why I am here,” Frank replied. Please 15 whatever presents you would like for your children from the sled.” “Why, God bless you!” the 16 woman answered gratefully. She selected some candies, a toy airplane and a doll. Finally, the stockings were 17. “Thank you so much!” the woman Said. “You are welcome,” Frank said and left.

    Frank's18was full of happiness. Then he gave his jacket to a poor boy. At last, he19 all his gifts. Now Frank was worried how he could 20 to his parents that he had given his presents to others.

    After 22 years of marriage, I have discovered the secret to keep love alive in my relationship with my wife, Peggy. I started dating another woman.

One day Peggy said to me, "Life is too 1, you need to spend time with the people you love. You probably won't believe me, but I know you love her and I think that if the two of you spend more time together, it will make us2.

The "other" woman my wife was encouraging me to3is my mother, a 72-year-old widow who has lived alone since my father 4 20 years ago. Right after his death, I5 2,500 miles away to California and started my own life and career. When I moved back near my hometown six years ago, I promised myself that I would spend more time with mom. But with the 6of my job and three kids, I never got around to seeing her much 7family get-togethers and holidays.

    Mom was 8 and suspicious when I called and suggested the two of us go out to dinner and a movie.

    We didn't go anywhere 9, just a neighborhood place where we could talk. 10 her eyes now see only large shapes and shadows, I had to read the menu for both of us.

"I used to be the 11 when you were little," she said.

"Then it is time for you to relax and let me 12the favor," I said.

    We had a nice talk 13dinner, just catching up on each other's lives. We talked for so long that we 14 the movie.

"15was your date?" my wife asked when I got home that evening.

    Nice...nicer than I thought it would be,' I said.

    Mom and I get out for16a couple of times a month. Sometimes we take in a movie, but 17we talk. Through the talks, I know what it was like for her to work in a factory during the Second World War. I know how she met my father there, and know how they 18the difficult times. I can't get enough of these stories. They are 19 to me, a part of my history.

    Peggy was right. Dating another woman has20my marriage.

    Several decades of years ago, I ran a service station and roadhouse on the main road between Melbourne and Adelaide. One very cold, wet night at about 3∶30 a.m., there was a1on the front door of our house. A young man, wet from2 to toe, explained that he had3out of petrol about 30 km up the road. He had left his pregnant wife and his two children4 at the car and said that he would hitchhike(搭便车) back.

    Once I had5a can with petrol, I took him back to his car where his two-year-old and four-year-old children were both6, saying that they were cold. Once the car had started, I suggested that he7me back.

    Before leaving, I had turned the heater8 in the roadhouse, so that when we went in, it was nice and9.While the little ones played and ran10, I prepared bread and butter for the children, and hot chocolate for the11.

    It was about 5 a.m. before they12 .The young fellow asked me how much he13 me and I told him that the petrol pump(加油泵)had14 $15.He offered to pay "call-out fee", but I wouldn't accept it.

    About a month later, I received a15 from Interstate, a large bus company that we had been trying to16to stop off at our roadhouse for a long time. It17out that the young fellow I had helped was its general manager, the most18person in the company.

    In his letter, he thanked me again and19 me that, from then on, all their buses would stop at my service station. In this20, a little bit of kindness was rewarded with a huge amount of benefits.

    I had never known a Christmas when we could ask for a special gift and actually expect to get it. The Great Depression (大萧条) of the 1930s really1 our farming community of Belleville, Michigan. Then came 1940; I was 7 years old and my brother, David, was 8. That year my father got a(n)2 job, and David and I were asked to choose the one 3we most wanted to get that year. I 4 a teddy bear. David asked for a bicycle.

    5, Christmas morning arrived. There under the tree, with a big red bow around his neck, was my teddy bear. David's6 , however, was not there. I7 how my parents could make my wish come true but not my brother's.

    “I8something,” my father said, as he went into the other room. When he came back he was9a bicycle.

    On David's face was a look of both delight and10. The bike was secondhand, which David didn't11, but it was a girls' bike. Boys did not ride girls' bikes. Personally, I wouldn't have 12if it had come with pink bows on it – it was still a bicycle.

    David and I had been learning to ride on bicycles13from friends in the neighborhood. I was not as14a rider as he was, but I could15to get from point A to point B.

    David was very16, letting me ride his new wheels often. He even17out a way to tie our Radio Flyer wagon to the bike so he could pull me and other kids up and down our road.

    Now we could18 places that were once beyond convenient walking distance. That winter we took many long rides down the snowy back roads, with me on the handlebars or19behind in the wagon. That bicycle was the Christmas present and truly gave us an exciting new 20.