One day I saw Mr.Martin in front of his store assembling a shiny red Rollfast.“Ain’t it a beauty？”he said.“And your name’s at the top of the list.”“How much？”I asked breathlessly.Mr.Martin wiped his hand on his apron.“Forty-one dollars，”he said.“Don’t sell it to anyone else until I get back，”I shouted over my shoulder.I jumped on my old bike and rattled home.“Mr.Martin’s got my bike，”I exclaimed，running into the house.“It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen apple red with gray trim and chrome1wheels.”Mama looked up from her ironing board and asked，“How much does it cost？”“Forty-one dollars，”I said.“I’ve got about twenty saved.”Mama pursed her lips，considering the situation.She started to shake her head no，but something stopped her.
She went to her bedroom and came back with the White Owl box in hand.She opened it and began counting，pulling out two fives first，followed by several ones.Sixteen，seventeen，eighteen...Then she stopped counting.For the first time in my life，the box seemed to be empty.I felt a hollowness of disappointment I’d never known before.Lord，please help her find three more dollars，I prayed，closing my eyes tight.When I opened them I saw her reach into the box again and pull out a little blue cloth purse with a silver catch on it.From the purse she extracted another dollar，another and another until she reached the required number.
“Oh，mama，thank you，”I said，hugging her and kissing her cheek.“Just remember，”she cautioned as I gathered up the cash，“this is the Lord’s money，and you’ll have to repay it.When we give to the Lord，he gives right back.”“I will repay it，”I answered，and I did.On my sleek，new Rollfast I could deliver more papers.And it was just as Mama said，I earned enough to give back to the tithe box and then I earned some more.“Ten percent for the tithe box，”Mama said and in it went.As long as we gave，we were blessed.
感恩的心
在大萧条时期，我当理发师的父亲饱受饥饿之苦。于是，他把自己的折叠式剃刀换成木工锯子，去当地贮木场工作了。他的收入不多，但是稳定。妈妈对此充满着感激之情。事实上，她的感激之心如此强烈，以至于她发誓要从家里的收入中扣除一部分献给上帝。每个星期天，她都会拿出她的捐献盒——一个彩色的“白猫头鹰”牌烟盒——从中抽出几张钞票，放入教堂提供的信封里，交给爸爸去放到教堂的奉献盘中。
因为爸妈靠微薄的薪水过日子，所以，那个烟盒中的钱也成了家中的救急款，不过事后得把钱还回去。妈妈对家中什么是急需有严格的规定。如果一双旧鞋还可以再补，或打一个前掌或后跟的话，就没有必要买新鞋。还有，如果妈妈能找到一些布料，设计一种样式，为自己或我妹妹缝制复活节连衣裙的话，也决不买新的。
二战期间，爸爸应征入伍，去了战场，留下妈妈和我们3个孩子。虽然当时我才10岁，但是我也通过送《托莱多刀刃报》为家庭经济出一份力。我骑一辆破旧不堪的自行车送报。自行车前后挡板都没了，车架弯了，两个脚踏板也没了。瘪胎是最头疼的问题。我随身带着修理工具和打气筒，这样我可以随时补胎。“我在马丁先生的五金商店登了记，准备买辆新车，”一天吃晚饭时，我透露说。由于战争的原因，自行车供应短缺。“你可以用辆新车，”妈妈说。一辆新自行车是家中急需吗？我不知道妈妈当时是怎样想的。
一天，我看见马丁先生正在店门口组装一辆锃亮的红色“飞滚”牌自行车。“这车是不是很漂亮？”他说道。“你的名字排在登记单的第一位。”“多少钱？”我屏住呼吸问道。马丁先生在围裙上擦了擦手说：“41块。”“别卖给别人，我很快就回来，”我边走边回头喊道。我跳上旧车，一路吱嘎声，匆忙骑回家。“马丁先生有辆新车要卖给我，”我大声喊道，飞奔进屋。“你从没见过这么漂亮的车——苹果红镶着灰边，还有铬合金车轮。”妈妈从熨衣板上抬起头，问道：“多少钱？”“41块，”我说。“我攒了差不多20块。”妈妈噘起嘴唇，掂量着这件事情。她开始摇头说不，但不知怎么又停住了。
她去了卧室，手上拿着那个“白猫头鹰”捐献盒出来。她打开盒子，开始数钱，先拿出了两张5块的，接着拿出来几张1块的，16，17，18……然后，她停住了。我生平第一次觉得，这个盒子似乎空了。我感到一种从未有过的失望。上帝，帮帮她再找到3块钱吧，我紧闭双眼，心中祈祷着。当我睁开眼睛时，我看见她的手又伸进了盒子，拿出了一个蓝色小布钱包，上面有一条银色拉锁。从这个钱包中，她拿出了1块，又1块，再1块，直到钱够数为止。
“噢，妈妈，谢谢你，”我说道，拥抱着她，亲吻她的面颊。“要记住，”我把钱收拢时，她提醒说：“这是上帝的钱，你必须还回来。我们献给上帝的，他即刻就会赐还给我们。”“我会还回来的，”我回答说，并且我做到了。骑着我优美、闪亮的“飞滚”车，我能多送报纸。正像妈妈说的那样，我挣了足够的钱，不但把从捐献盒中拿的钱还上了，而且还多挣了一些钱。“10%的收入进入捐献盒。”妈妈要求说。妈妈的话我照办了。只要我们给予，就会得到赐福。
The Wind Beneath Her Wings
In 1959，when Jean Harper was in the third grade，her teacher gave the class an assignment to write a report on what they wanted to be when they grew up.
Jean’s father was a crop duster pilot in the little farming community in Northern California where she was raised，and Jean was totally captivated by airplanes and flying.She poured her heart into her report and included all of her dreams；she wanted to crop dust，make parachute jumps，seed clouds and be an airline pilot.Her paper came back with an “F”on it.The teacher told her it was a “fairy tale”and that none of the occupations she listed were women’s jobs.Jean was crushed and humiliated.
She showed her father the paper，and he told her that of course she could become a pilot.“Look at Amelia Earhart，”he said.“That teacher doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
But as the years went by，Jean was beaten down by the discouragement and negativity she encountered whenever she talked about her career—“Girls can’t become airline pilots；never have，never will.You’re not smart enough，you’re crazy.That’s impossible.”—until finally Jean gave up.
In her senior year of high school，her English teacher was a Mrs.Dorothy Slaton.Mrs.Slaton was an uncompromising，demanding teacher with high standards and a low tolerance for excuses.She refused to treat her students like children，instead expecting them to behave like the responsible adults they would have to be to succeed in the real world after graduation.Jean was scared of her at first but grew to respect her firmness and fairness.
One day Mrs.Slaton gave the class an assignment.“What do you think you’ll be doing 10years from now？”Jean thought about the assignment.Pilot？No way.Flight attendant？I’m not pretty enough—they’d never accept me.Wife？What guy would want me？Waitress？I could do that.That felt safe，so she wrote it down.
Mrs.Slaton collected the papers and nothing more was said.Two weeks later，the teacher handed back the assignments，face down on each desk，and asked this question：“If you had unlimited finances，unlimited access to the finest schools，unlimited talents and abilities，what would you do？”
Jean felt a rush of the old enthusiasm，and with excitement she wrote down all her old dreams.When the students stopped writing，the teacher asked，“How many students wrote the same thing on both sides of the paper？”Not one hand went up.
The next thing that Mrs.Slaton said changed the course of Jean’s life.The teacher leaned forward over her desk and said，“I have a little secret for you all.You do have unlimited abilities and talents.You do have access to the finest schools，and you can arrange unlimited finances if you want something badly enough.This is it！When you leave school，if you don’t go for your dreams，no one will do it for you.You can have what you want if you want it enough.”