In the week before Christmas, one Delta airlines pilot gave a sad Arizona family a gift that no one else could.

    Father of three, Jay short died after a 1with lung cancer Dec, 16^th. Three days later, his family was attempting to 2to Tennessee for the funeral scheduled for the next morning. But a 90-munite 3at the Phoenix airport 4them only seven minutes to make their connecting flight in Minnesota. “This was our 5chance to say goodbye to my dad, and if we hadn't 6the flight, we would have missed the 7.” Jay's daughter said. But when they arrived at the gate, the last plane of the day to Memphis was 8away from the gate.

    “My son was 9his arms and pleading with the pilot through the floor-to ceiling windows.” said Marcia, “I was 10 and comforting my girls who were also in tears when the phone rang, 11us that the pilot was returning to the gate to let us 12the plane .” Captain Adam Cohen saw the 13on their faces through the gate's windows and decided to turn the plane around. Airline experts pointed out Cohen could have 14gotten into trouble for the 15decision, but Delta 16the move instead. “This is 17we'll take with us, knowing we made a 18.” confirmed Adam.

    This story is an 19that we can bring humanity back to society. Show care and it may 20you how far that you go.

    A young man was getting ready to graduate from college. For many months he had loved a beautiful sports car in a dealer's showroom, and knowing his father could well 1 it, he told him that was all he wanted.

    As 2 drew near, the young man expected 3 that his father had bought the car. Finally, on the morning of the special day, his father called him into his study. His father told him how 4 he was to have such a fine son, and how much he loved him. He handed his son a beautiful wrapped (包装好的) gift box. Curious, but a little bit5, the young man opened the box and found a lovely, leather-bound (皮边的) Bible (圣经).

    Angrily, he raised his 6 to his father and said, “Is a Bible 7 you can give me with all your money?” He then stormed out of the house, leaving the Bible.

    Many years 8 and the young man was very successful in business, but 9 his father was very old, he thought perhaps he 10 go to see him. He had not seen him since that graduation day. 11 he could make the arrangements , he received a telegram which 12 him of his father's death, and all the possessions (财产) left to him.

    13 arriving at his father's house, sudden sadness and regret filled his heart. He began to 14 through his father's important papers and saw the still new Bible, just as he had 15 it years ago. With tears, he opened the Bible and began to 16. As he was reading, a car 17 dropped from the back of the Bible.

    How many times do we 18 blessings (祝福) because they are not wrapped as we expected? Do not spoil (搞糟) what you have by desiring (渴求) what you have not; but remember that what you now have was once 19 the things you hoped for. What may appear as bad fortune (运气) may 20 be the door that is just waiting to be opened.

    Frank was walking down the 6th Street on a hot sunny day when he saw smoke coming out of the street. He could 1 the smoke, and it was getting2. Seeing the smoke coming out of a storm drain(雨水沟), Frank called the fire department 3. “The storm drain is 4 fire!” he said. The fire department asked for his whereabouts and he said he was near the 6th street. They said they would be right there to investigate the situation. Frank needn't to go anywhere, so he waited for the 5 to arrive. He was curious what could be burning beneath the street. As far as he knew, there wasn't anything beneath the street 6 concrete(混凝土). And everyone knows that concrete doesn't 7.

    A fire truck arrived a few 8 later. “Are you the man who 9?” asked the driver. “Yes.” Frank answered. By now Frank could not only smell the 10 but also hear crackling sounds, just like wood burning. The firemen didn't seem to11it an emergency. “What do you think it could be?” Frank asked the driver. “Oh, we know what it is. We have to 12 a problem like this every few months. It's the homeless people in their 13.”

    Homeless people have been living under the streets for years.14 their knowledge of the storm drain system, they 15 their own “houses” beneath the streets. These living areas have tables, mattresses, chairs, and sofas. The settlers often “borrow” electricity by connecting to a live wire above ground to 16 their own lights and even TVs underground. Either this 17 electricity or a cigarette can cause an occasional fire.

    Frank watched 18  some firemen lifted a manhole cover (井盖) and went beneath the street with a fire hose (消防软管). Then a few minutes later, the 19 smoke turned white. Shortly afterward, the firemen reappeared with a 20 person who seemed to have just been woken up.

Even 15 years after my grandfather's death, he is still following me around, 1 in my ear on what to do. He is still the British-accented 2 in my head, giving me a nod of 3 for my right choice, and raising an eyebrow 4 he disagrees with something I'm doing. His wise and optimistic views 5 to affect my life.

My grandfather walked 10,000 steps 6 every day, and not because he had a $100 fitness tracker 7 him to do so. Instead of "exercising," he worked in his garden, 8 vegetables that kept our family through many winters and roses that were the joy of many summers.

He was good to the 9 in the way that people used to be before they had to be told it was the 10 thing to do. Actually, he never 11 a car or learned to drive, so he walked everywhere he could and took a bus the rest of the time.

After my grandmother died, I used to go and 12 with him on weekends. We walked around, chatted to the neighbors, and went to the 13 for food and milk. Occasionally I would 14 a little cake for him in his kitchen. At the end of the day, before he 15 the light, he would say, "That was a (a) 16 day. I enjoyed every minute of it." I never doubted for a moment that he 17 it.

In the morning, I'd 18 to his whistling in the kitchen downstairs (usually it was Raindrops Keep Falling on Mr Head). At the time, it 19 me—I am not a morning person—but now I'd give anything to hear that 20 one more time.

It was the early 1950s, and I was a member of the A class at Armidale Senior High School in norther New South Wales. 

In the second and third years we all did General Maths, and our teacher was Mrs Lindsay-Clare Lindsay. Her arrival at our classroom was always quick, "Good morning everyone!" Then our books would be out, and we would watch her closely. 

I've thought a lot about Clare Lindsay over the years. What was her special magic? There are two reasons and I think they're necessary for all excellent teachers. She loved her subject, and she loved us, in a patient and objective way. She had no favorites that I can remember, and she called us all by our first names pleasantly She had a way of teaching that I loved. 

"Now we could go down this path couldn't we? We could argue this, and then this, but that doesn't work because of this. No Can Do(NCD)!" She would put a big cross, and write" NCD" against what she had put down. "Right! Why not go down this new path?" And she would show us that this new way worked. It was fun. We, whether the poor students or the skilled, all did well because of her. I've never found maths difficult, and I_put_that_skill_down_to_her. 

In the fourth and fifth years,we were divided into the science and arts streams(按学生能力划分的班级), and Mrs Lindsay didn't teach us any more. But as the Leaving Certificate exams were coming, one of my friends became nervous about how much maths he didn't know. With great courage, he went to see Mrs Lindsay, and asked if she would help him prepare for his General Maths paper. "Of course!" she said, and did just that, after school, in her own time. He passed. What a good teacher!

My writing career began at the age of ten. That year, my mother gave me my first journal to help me deal with the 1 of my grandmother's death. In many ways, my grandmother was the 2 behind my own writing career. 

When she was alive, my grandmother had 3 much emotional pain, but she also knew that writing was her key to 4 . While growing up in Galicia, Poland, during World War I, she 5 both her parents, and then had to care for herself and her eight-year-old sister. She found solace (慰藉) in journal writing. 

Many years after her death, I 6 her journal and read every word. The void(空虚感) she had left in my life became stronger as the years progressed and I had my own health issues to 7 , such as being diagnosed with breast cancer at age 47. My 8 caused me to write down my grandmother's life story, based on the 9 of her journal. Although at times the writing was 10 , it did bring me close to her once again and help me more 11 understand her many hardships. 

Keeping journals has helped me 12 emotionally. Whether you're 13 by change, loss or pain, finding the time to write is 14 to the healing process. So why not 15 your pen and write down whatever comes to your mind?