Some years ago when I was in my first year in college, I heard Salome Bey sing for the first time. The moment was exciting. Salome's1filled the room and brought the theater to life. I was so2that I decided to write an article about her.

    I3Salome Bey, telling her I was from Essence magazine, and that I wanted to meet her to talk about her career. She4and told me to come to her studio next Tuesday. When I hung up, I was scared out of mind. I5I was lying. I was not a writer at all and hadn't even written a grocery list.

    I interviewed Salome Bey the next Tuesday. I sat there6, taking notes and asking questions that all began with, “Can you tell me. . . ? ”I soon realized that7Salome Bey was one thing, but writing a story for a national magazine was just impossible. The8was almost unbearable. I struggled for days9draft(草稿)after draft. Finally I put my manuscript(手稿)into a large envelope and dropped it into a mailbox.

    It didn't take long. My manuscript10. How stupid of me! I thought. How could I11in a world of professional writers? Knowing I couldn't12the rejection letter, I threw the unopened envelope into a drawer.

    Five years later, I was moving to California. While13my apartment, I came across the unopened envelope. This time I opened it and read the editor's letter in14:

Ms Profit,

    Your story on Salome Bey is fantastic. Yet we need some15materials. Please add those and return the article immediately. We would like to16your story soon.

    Shocked, it took me a long time to17. Fear of rejection cost me greatly. I lost at least five hundred dollars and the chance of having my article appear in a major magazine. More importantly, I lost years of18writing. Today, I have become a full-time writer. Looking back on this19, I learned a very important lesson: You can't20to doubt yourself.

    Zigfried, a little mouse, blew his breath on the frosty window of the farmhouse and rubbed it to see the outside. Still nobody came. Maybe today, he thought 1. It was only a few days before Christmas and he was watching for a miracle (奇迹).

    This farmhouse had been 2 too long. It needed a family. Zigfried's 3 made a noise. He realized that he hadn't eaten anything since yesterday. He jumped from the windowsill (窗沿), grabbed a 4 from his home, and went next door to Farmer Mike's.

    Farmer Mike's house had been a great place for the little mouse 5 the farmer married a wife who had a cat. Zigfried 6 when he thought of it. He looked around cautiously as he 7 into the room where grain was stored and was quite 8 as he filled his bag with wheat. He was turning to leave when suddenly he 9 a hot breath about his ear. His heart beat  10 , and without thinking he started to run and luckily 11 the cat's paws (爪子).

    The next afternoon Zigfried heard some good news: a 12 family would be moving into the farmhouse soon. Zigfried's granny would arrive on Christmas Eve to 13 with him. He hoped that the family would come before his granny came. Before long, a car came 14 the road leading to the house, with butter sandwiches, cheese and chocolate.

    Zigfried's Christmas miracle did arrive!

    The house came 15 the next few days. Zigfried 16 every single hour of them. 17, the day before Christmas when he was drinking hot chocolate with a 18 smile at the door of his home, he heard the 19of the children of the family about what they might get for Christmas. What? A cat? The 20 froze on his face； his mouth fell wide open. After a long while, he at last found his voice: “Hey! Whose Christmas miracle is this?”

    I spent last summer volunteering at a hospital.It was a gift to 1so many amazing people and I'd like to share one of these moments.One day，I was called to a room where a(n)2woman was staying. Usually I helped with3who were ready to leave.Instead，she 4to go to the gift shop.I got a 5 ， helped her into it，and headed down to the entrance.

    When we got there，it wasn't open yet.After a 30-minute 6 ， we entered the gift shop.As I pushed her around，I could see the 7in her face as she looked at everything，happy to be out of her room.She 8some window decorations，and then saw chocolates.

    She asked me to push her in that 9 ， and then I helped her10all the different chocolate arrangements.11 she decided on three different boxes.

    She told me to write the numbers 1，2，and 3 on the boxes.She 12that the nurses were taking such good care of her，so she13chocolates for each of the three shifts of nurses.As we gave the current shift of nurses their box of chocolate，they14offered some to me before taking some themselves.

    There were15all around.Witnessing the old lady's16and getting the opportunity to spend time with someone who got so much joy from life was a17in itself. I have so many more stories，and each person made an impact on my life. I've 18that health has a way of bringing people together.19is a blessing，and being in a place where health is so 20and appreciated is unlike anything else.

Double Trouble

    When I was eight, I wanted a toy and needed $10 to buy it. But, as usual, I was broken. I decided to ask my 11-year-old sister, Kathleen, for a loan. I went to her room1her for the cash. Laughing, she agreed to2me the money, but added, “I will charge you 10 percent compound interest every 3until you pay me back.”

    “Compound interest what's that?” I asked.

    “Well, interest is what you call the4money borrowers have to pay back on a loan,” she explained. “Compound interest means that the interest payments get bigger and bigger the5you take to pay back the loan. To repay the loan, you will need to give me $11 after one month. If you wait two months to pay me back, your6will grow from $10 to $11. So I'll be charging you interest on $11. Then I will add that interest to the $11 you already owe me, for a 7of $12.10. That's what you'll owe after two months.”

    “Sure. I get it,” I said. Though truthfully, I was getting 8

Kathleen lent me the money, and I bought the toy. My birthday came a month later, and my mom gave me $10.9that was just the amount I needed to buy another toy I wanted10I put off paying my sister for a month. After another month, I11about the loan.

    Several months later, on Christmas morning, my sister and I each found a $02 bill in our stockings. I was just putting it into my pocket 12Kathleen tapped me on the shoulder.

    “Sorry, kiddo. That's mine. I'm13on your debt.”

    “Huh?” Then I remembered the loan. “Hey! How can it be that much? I 14borrowed $10.”

    “True,” she said, “but interest has been compounding for eight months. Now you 15me $21.43.” She paused, then added. “You can pay me the $1.43.”

    I 16to believe that a $10 loan could more than double so quickly. Much to my17my sister got her pencil and tablet and showed me exactly how it all added up.

    My head18as I tried to keep track of Kathleen's 19 but this time, I got the basic idea of compound interest. I 20the hard way that borrowing money can be “double trouble” in no time.

    My father was a self-taught mandolin（曼陀林琴）player. He could not read, but if he heard a tune several times, he could play it. Occasionally, he 1 play for the local radio station.

    Dad loved playing the mandolin for his family. He knew we enjoyed his playing. If he could give 2 to others, he would, especially for his family. He was always 3 his time and efforts to making sure his family had enough in their life.

    Later, I matured into a man and had my own children. Whenever coming home, I would ask Dad to play the mandolin, for nobody played the mandolin like him. He could 4 your soul with tunes coming out of that old mandolin. He seemed to 5 when playing, taking pride in his ability to play so well.

    Unfortunately, in 1977. Dad was 6 in an accident, leaving his third finger of his left hand wounded seriously. 7 he didn't lose enough of the finger where it would stop him picking up anything, it did affect his 8 to play the mandolin. After the accident, he was 9 to play and felt unable to play as well as before. Every time we asked him to play, he would make excuses. 10, we could persuade him and he would say "Okay. But I can't hold down on the strings and play as well as before." For the family it made no 11. When he played the old mandolin, it would carry us back to a cheerful, happier time.

    In August 1993, Dad was 12 with serious disease. He chose not to receive any chemotherapy(化疗)treatments 13 he could live out his rest life in dignity(尊严). A week before his death, we asked Dad if he would play the mandolin for his family. First he made the usual 14 again but later said "Okay.", 15 it was likely to be the last chance for us to hear him playing. He tuned up the old mandolin and played. 16, I found everyone in the family 17. We saw before us a quiet humble man with an inner 18 that lives with him in his life.

    Dad would never play the mandolin for us again, but we still 19 the most valuable gift we gained from him, 20 he had done all his life, giving.

    I was once a dropout. I know how powerfully a 1 can influence the life of a person who does not 2 herself. I quit school at sixteen to work. Years later, I had a(n) 3 and couldn't work for months. I felt depressed. With an unemployable father and a mentally ill mother to support, I couldn't 4 to give up.

    Searching the ads, I found a notice that our local community college offered free work 5. One requirement was a high-school diploma or GED certificate. Years ago, I got my GED certificate, but with 6 scores. I felt certain that I had little to 7 other than a willingness to 8. After my physical injury healed, I went to meet Ruby Martin, the advisor who would 9 me.

    I sat 10 waiting while Mrs. Martin looked over my score sheet. I was 11 to hear her blame me for wasting her valuable time. She looked at me for a long moment 12 she spoke.

    "Why did you apply for this 13?" she asked. "Why aren't you applying to college?"

    With my face burning with 14, I could only whispered, "Because I am 15."

    "Didn't anyone ever explain these 16 to you?" she asked. I just shook my head. For the next hour, she explained how the GED scores are based on, and that my 17 were very high indeed. She convinced me that I was not only not stupid, but that I would 18 an excellent candidate for the training program.

    I regained my 19. Later, I got a bachelor's degree and became a teacher just like her. To teach is to touch a life. It was Ruby Martin who touched my life 20.