When was the last time someone unexpectedly did something nice for you? Not someone you knew, but a total stranger? It's happened to me a few times, but two instances really stand out.

    A few years ago, I was dining in a restaurant with a friend who kept talking about himself, completely not aware of the fact that I was sitting there in misery. It wasn't my friend's talks that made me suffer. I was recovering from a broken heart, and just sitting down to dinner reminded me of my last relationship. I could have burst into tears right there at the table.

    When we picked up the check, the waitress said, ―Your meal was already paid for.  My friend and I didn't have a clue how it happened. Then I remembered a man coming in out of the corner of my eye. He was dressed in mostly white, sat down at the bar, had a beer, and stayed for maybe ten minutes. The waitress said, ―Yes, the gentleman in white paid for you.  It felt like an angel was saying ―I see you, honey. It's going to be okay.

    Just last year, I was running a half-marathon. With just 1 mile to go, I was out of gas. Runners call it ―hitting the wall . I thought I couldn't move another inch. Out of nowhere, a stranger came up to me and said, ―What's your name, sweetie? Jennifer? Okay, Jennifer, let's go! Come on! It's just around the corner! You can do it!  And he ran with me until I picked up my pace. I found him at the finish line to thank him for the encouragement only to learn he wasn't even supposed to be in the race that day.

    I still shake my head when I think of these momentary angels that came to me at my point of need.

    Do you have any experiences like these?

    Last week my youngest son and I visited my father at his new home in Tucson. Arizona. He moved there a few years ago, and I was eager to see his new place and meet his friends.

My earliest memories of my father are of a tall, handsome, successful man devoted to his work and family but uncomfortable with his children. As a child I loved him; as a school girl and young adult I feared him and felt bitter（仇恨的）bout him. He seemed unhappy with me unless I got straight A's and unhappy with my boy friends if their fathers were not as "successful" as he was. Whenever I went out with him on weekends, I used to struggle to think up things to say, feeling on guard.

    On the first day of my visit, we went out with one of my father's friends for lunch at an outdoor cafe. We walked along that afternoon, did some shopping ate on the street table, and laughed over my son's funny facial expressions. Gone was my father's critical(挑剔的)air and strict rules. Who was this person I knew as my father, who seemed so friendly and interesting to be around? What had held him back before?

    The next day my dad pulled out his childhood pictures and told me quite a few stories about his own childhood. Although our times together became easier over the years, I never felt closer to him at that moment. After so many years, I'm at last seeing another side of my father. And in so doing, I'm delighted with my new friend. My dad in his new home in Arizona, is back to me from where he was.

Most young people enjoy some form of physical activity. It may be walking, cycling or swimming, or winter, skating or skiing. It may be a game of some form—football, hockey, golf or tennis. It may be mountaineering.

    Those who have a passion for climbing high and difficult mountains are often looked upon with surprise. Why are men and women willing to suffer cold and hardship, and to take risks on high mountains? This astonishment is caused, probably, by the difference between mountaineering and other forms of activity to which men give their leisure.

    Mountaineering is a sport and not a game. There are no man-made rules, as others, as there are for such games as golf and football. There are, of course, rules of a different kinds which would be dangerous to ignore, but it is this freedom from man-made rules that makes mountaineering attractive to many people. Those who climb mountains are free to use their own methods.

    If we compare mountaineering with other more familiar sports, we might think that one big difference is that mountaineering is not a “team game”. We should be mistaken in this. There are, it is true, no “matches” between “teams” of climbers, but when climbers are on a rock face linked by a rope on which their lives may depend, there is obviously teamwork.

    The mountain climber knows that he may have to fight forces that are stronger and more powerful than man. He has to fight the forces of nature. His sport requires high mental and physical qualities.

    A mountain climber continues to improve in skill year after year. A skier is probably past his best by the age of thirty. But it is not unusual for men of fifty or sixty to climb the highest mountains in the Alps. They may take more time than younger men, but they perhaps climb with more skill and less waste of efforts, and they certainly experience equal enjoyment.

    The phone ID flashed，“Emergency Vet”.“ Oh no” I whispered. I could not lose Merlin now.

    Ron and I had tried to have children for a long time with depressing results. I threw myself into my work. Any maternal feelings I had were spent on Merlin.

    I couldn't wait to get home from work each night. I wanted to pick up that warm bundle of loving fur and nestle him. I wanted to sing “Rock-a-bye Merlin”，as I did every night as he would put his paws around my neck.

    Merlin was my comfort especially at times when I wondered if God was listening. But last night something had changed. Not only did I sing “Rock-a-Bye M1erlin”,but I asked, you 're gone？”

    Although Merlin was 19 years old, a senior in the· age of a cat, he didn't look or act that way. I didn't want to accept the fact that he was nearing the end of his lifetime. My job at the law firm was so demanding and stressful that I couldn't imagine getting through the day without Merlin waiting to greet me at home.

    I dialed the vet's number. I asked for my husband but he already left. Then I took a breath and asked the question that no one wants to ask，“Is my Merlin still alive？”The nurse said“ yes.”

    Ron came home and said that Merlin had almost no red blood cells left. White blood cells were replacing them. Merlin would need expensive transfusions most likely on a monthly basis. We both knew Merlin was running out of time. I asked Ron to drive me to the vet so I could say goodbye to my little boy cat but he was beat tired and it was late. Ron said if Merlin was still alive he next morning then he would take me to the vet.

    The next morning I called the vet. Merlin had survived the night. After driving to the vet, I went into the examining room. The nurse brought Merlin and placed him on an examining table on his side. His eyes were tightly shut. I thought he died already. I carefully edged my hand to reach his body. His body felt warm, but when I spoke his name there was no response. No response to his name or that I was there and that I loved him. I was extremely sad. In that examining room I felt helpless. I wondered how many people in an examining room felt as helpless as I did. Feeling driven to prayer I yelled, “God this isn't good enough. I need to see my Merlin the way I remember him, I need a miracle and I need it now！”

    At that moment, God granted a miracle. Merlin's favorite compliment entered my mind. I said, “Merlin, you are beautiful and you are gorgeous, do you hear me？”

One eye opened.

    I said “Gotcha”. I kept repeating those words.

    Merlin opened the other eye and, one limb at a time, got up. He was waiting for that phrase. He wanted to hear that he was beautiful and gorgeous again.

    Then I experienced another miracle.

    There was no sound in that examining room until Merlin started walking to me. From out of nowhere, or maybe from heaven, I clearly heard a song we sung in church often: “It Is Well With My Soul.” I remember叫thinking，“Yes, it is well with my soul. I got to see my little boy cat one more time.”

    Merlin walked to me. He put his face in mine, which he had never done before. He rubbed a circle around my face twice. Merlin said goodbye with his face and marked me for life.

    Ron appeared shocked that Merlin was up and had walked to me. I said to Merlin，“Tell God you are a good boy and how much we love you”and then handed him back to the nurse.

    Tears of gratitude poured forth in memory of a miracle. You see for nineteen years God spoke to me through a special cat named granted a miracle. That miracle gave me time to say goodbye.

Here are four books recommended by one of the most respected editors from Reader's Digest. If you have time to dip yourselves into the books, they can surely offer much food for thought.

Face It

Debbie Harry

HARPERCOLLINS

Picture this: it's the late 1970s and the punk music scene is starting to take hold. The band releases the album ParallelLines, which becomes the greatest hit. Everyone wants to attend her concert and some teenage girls even dream to be her. Now 75, Harry bares all about herself in Face It, starting from her childhood. Part shocking, this book is as humorous, moving and vigorous as its subject.

Scatterbrain

Henning Beck

NEWSOUTHBOOKS

If there is no obvious connection among what we see, the brain will substitute in the rest of the information without you even noticing, Beck says in the chapter Memory. In this "user's guide for your brain", he argues that mistakes are the keys to success. He combines science with brain-boosting advice and real-life stories to take the reader on a fascinating adventure through human memory.

You're Not Listening

Kate Murphy

PENGUINERANDOM HOUSE

When was the last time you listened to someone? Really listened without thinking about what you wanted to say next? And when was the last time someone really listened to you? Compared with talking, listening isn't considered so important, argues journalist Kate Murphy, but she insists it is actually the more powerful position in communication. Her insights could transform your conversations, your relationships and your life.

The Right-Brain Work Out

Russel Howcroft with Alex Wadelton

PENGUIN

In 1968,1600 five-year-olds were given a creativity test. They were retested at ages 10 and 15 and their scores were compared against adults. While 98 per cent of five-year-olds were assessed in the "highly creative" range (genius level), only two per cent of adults could be considered "highly creative". In The Right-Brain Work Out, the authors promise to re-train your brain to be more creative, using 70 questions to challenge you.

The cuisine that marks Christmas is as diverse as the people feasting on it. Here's a look at how the locals celebrate Christmas through cuisine in their countries, which will give you a glimpse of the celebrations.

England

The real festivities start on Christmas morning with champagne and smoked salmon. After the King's or Queen's annual Christmas speech, it's time for the main meal, typically including a turkey or roast beef accompanied by various side dishes.

France

The French celebrate their Christmas Eve with a lavish meal, with seafood served first. The main course usually consists of a rooster that's renowned for its tenderness. Fine red wine from Burgundy can't be missed of course.

Italy

Similar to France, Italians celebrate Christmas on the eve. The locals typically attend midnight Mass and then indulge in a lavish meal before heading to church. For the main course, northern Italians often have stuffed turkey, while those in seaside areas may feast on a large baked sea bass accompanied by roasted potatoes and vegetables.

Greece

After attending an early morning holy communion in church on Christmas, Greeks go home for an all-day eating gathering. Families gather around the fireplace, feasting on a special w heat bread only made at Christmas. Later, the main course may include roast chicken stuffed with chestnuts.