Love Grew In Hearts
不要期望爱有什么回报，耐心地等待它在你所爱的人的心里生根发芽，成长壮大。即使不会那样，也要感到满足，相信爱会在自己心里成长。
Love Likes A Broken Arm爱如断臂
“But what if I break my arm again?” my five year-old daughter asked, her lower lip trembling. I knelt holding onto her bike and looked her right in the eyes. I knew how much she wanted to learn to ride. How often she felt left out when her friends pedaled by our house. Yet ever since she’d fallen off her bike and broken her arm, she’d been afraid.
“Oh honey,” I said. “I don’t think you’ll break another arm.”
“But I could, couldn’t I?”
“Yes,” I admitted, and found myself struggling for the right thing to say. At times like this, I wished I had a partner to turn to. Someone who might help find the right words to make my little girl’s problems disappear. But after a disastrous marriage and a painful divorce, I’d welcomed the hardships of being a single parent and had been adamant in telling anyone who tried to fix me up that I was terminally single.
“I don’t think I want to ride,” she said and got off her bike.
We walked away and sat down beside a tree.
“Don’t you want to ride with your friends?” I asked.
“And I thought you were hoping to start riding your bike to school next year,” I added.
“I was,” she said, her voice almost a quiver.
“You know, dear,” I said. “Most everything you do comes with risks. You could get a broken arm in a car wreck and then be afraid to ever ride in a car again. You could break your arm jumping rope. You could break your arm at gymnastics. Do you want to stop going to gymnastics?”
“No,” she said. And with a determined spirit, she stood up and agreed to try again. I held on to the back of her bike until she found the courage to say, “Let’s go!”
I spent the rest of the afternoon at the park watching a very brave little girl overcome a fear, and congratulating myself for being a self-sufficient single parent.
As we walked home, pushing the bike as we made our way along the sidewalk, she asked me about a conversation she’d overheard me having with my mother the night before.
“Why were you and grandma arguing last night?”
My mother was one of the many people who constantly tried to fix me up. How many times had I told her “no” to meeting the Mr. Perfect she picked out for me? She just knew Steve was the man for me.
“It’s nothing,” I told her.
She shrugged. “Grandma said she just wanted you to find someone to love.”
“What grandma wants is for some guy to break my heart again,” I snapped, angry that my mother had said anything about this to my daughter.
“But Mom.”
“You’re too young to understand,” I told her.
She was quiet for the next few minutes. Then she looked up and in a small voice gave me something to think about.
“So I guess love isn’t like a broken arm.”
Unable to answer, we walked the rest of the way in silence. When I got home, I called my mother and scolded her for talking about this to my daughter. Then I did what I’d seen my brave little girl do that very afternoon. I let go and agreed to meet Steve.
Steve was the man for me. We married less than a year later. It turned out that mother and my daughter were right.
“可我要再把胳膊给摔断了怎么办？”我五岁的女儿问道，她的下唇颤抖着。我跪着抓稳了她的自行车，直视着她的眼睛。我很明白她非常想学会骑车。多少次了，她的朋友们踩车经过我们家时，她感到给抛下。可自从上次她从自行车上摔下来，把胳膊给摔断之后，她对车便敬而远之。
“噢，亲爱的。”我说，“我不认为你会把另一只胳膊给摔断的。”
“但有可能，不是吗？”
“是的，”我承认道，使劲想找出些道理来说。每逢此时，我便希望自己有人可依靠。一个可以说出正确道理、帮我的小女儿解决难题的人。可经过一场可悲的婚姻和痛苦的离婚后，我倾向于当个单身母亲，并且我还态度坚决地告诉每个要给我介绍对象的人说我要抱定终身不嫁。
“我不想学了。”她说着，下了自行车。
我们走到一旁，坐在一颗树旁。
“难道你不想和朋友们一起骑车吗？”我问。
“而且我还以为你希望明年踩着车回去上学呢。”我补充道。
“我是希望。”她说，声音有点颤。
“知道吗，宝贝。”我说，“很多要做的事情都是带有风险的。汽车失事也会折断胳膊，那么你就算再坐在车上也会害怕。跳绳也有可能折断胳膊。做体操也有可能折断胳膊。你连体操也想不练了吗？”
“不想。”她说。然后她毅然站起，同意再试试。我扶着车尾，直到她有勇气说：“放手！”
后来的一个下午，我就在公园里看着这个有无比勇气的小女孩克服了恐惧，我恭喜自己成了可以独当一面的单身家长。
回家时，我们推着自行车顺着人行道走，她问起昨天晚上我和我妈妈的一个对话，那是她无意中听到的。
“你昨晚为什么和姥姥吵？”
我妈妈是总想安排我去相亲的许多人中的一个。我多次拒绝去看她给我找的合适对象。她知道史蒂文和我会合得来。
“没什么事。”我告诉她。
她耸耸肩。“姥姥说她只不过想让你找个人来爱。”
“姥姥想再找个人来伤我的心。”我厉声说道，很生气妈妈把这件事跟我的女儿说了。
“可妈妈。”
“你还太小，不明白。”我对她说。
接下来好几分钟她都很安静。然后她抬起头，小小声地说了句令我深思不已的话。
“那么我猜爱情和断胳膊不是一回事了。”
我无言以对，余下的路我们在沉默中走完了。回到家后，我给妈妈打了个电话，责备她不该和我女儿谈论这话题。接着我做了一件那个下午看到我那勇敢的小女儿所做过的事。我松口答应和史蒂文见面。
史蒂文正是我的合适人选。大约一年前我们结了婚。结果证明我妈妈和女儿是正确的。
Beauty Within心灵之爱
John Blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened his Army uniform, and studied the crowd of people making their way1 through Grand Central Station.
He looked for the girl whose heart he knew, but whose face he didn’t, the girl with the rose. His interest in her had begun 12 months before in a Florida library. Taking a book off the shelf he found himself absorbed, not by the words of the book, but by the notes penciled in the margin4. The soft handwriting showed a thoughtful soul and insightful mind.
In the front of the book, he discovered the previous owner’s name, Miss Hollis Maynell. With time and effort he found her exact address. She lived in New York City. He wrote her a letter introducing himself and inviting her to write him. The next day he was shipped to another country for service in World War II.
During the next year and one month the two grew to know each other through the mail. Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile heart. A love began to develop. Blanchard requested a photograph, but she refused. She explained: “If your feeling for me has any reality, any honest basis, what I look like won’t matter. Suppose I’m beautiful I’d always be worried by the feeling that you had been taking a chance on just that, and that kind of love would make me sick. Suppose I’m plain and you must admit that this is more likely. Then I would always fear that you were going on writing to me only because you were lonely and had no one else. No, don’t ask for my picture. When you come to New York, you shall see me and then you shall make your own decision. Remember, both of us are free to stop or to go on after that—whichever we choose... ”
约翰·布兰查德从长凳上站起身来，整了整军装，留意着格兰德中央车站进出的人群。
