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Beautiful Voice
Being with the same dormitory in university，one of my classmates，who is from Harbin，never has not phoned his parents.He said that there was no phone at home,It is Ok for him to write to his parents,We are surprised at : "He lives in modern city,Living condition is not bad, Why not instal a telephone?
After the summer vacation,he often went to bed to listen to a tape secretly,which was taken from his home.Sometime he was crying for sadness, We
proposed to borrow his tape to listen, He did not agree.One time when was out,we got the tape under the pillow and put it in the recorder,After we listened to it,it seemed that there was not any voice in it,We are puzzled what he was dealing with the blank tape every night.
In the coming of graduation,he told us about his family, His parents were all deaf and dumb.When he was very young,his father died.To make a living, his mother endured all hardships as well as got the an expression of scorn.For his study,his mother paid much attention to create the best conditions for him.They never had him suffer from the hardship.After their living condition was better,he had to leave his mother to go to university.He said that he often missed her,His achievement was from "Silent Love" of his parents,including his father.I taped the voice of breathing.I listened it every night,feeling parents being with him.
We were deeply moved.Caring from family is the most brilliant sunshine in the world,No natter where we come out far,or fly higher,in the eyes of our parents,we are always the apple of their eye.being cared for every day. Silent love is the most beautiful voice in the world.
最美的声音
大学时同寝室有一个家住哈尔滨的同学，她从不给家里打电话。他说家里没有电话，写信就行了.我们有些奇怪：他家住大城市，生活条件也不错，家里怎么不安电话呢？
那次暑假回来后，他每天晚上都躲在被窝里听一盘从家里带来的磁带，有几次还哭出了声。我们提出借他的磁带听一听，他说什么也不肯。有一次趁他不e5a48de588b67a686964616f366在，我们从他枕头底下翻出了那盘磁带，放在录音机里听，好像没听到声音。我们很纳闷：他每天晚上听这盘空磁带干什么呢？
快毕业时，他才告诉我们原因.原来她父母都是聋哑人，父亲在他很小的时候就死去了,为了生活，他们吃尽了苦也受尽了别人的白眼，为了他能好好上学读书，母亲的心都放在他身上，给他创造最好的条件，从不让他受一点委屈。后来日子好过了，他却要离开母去远方上大学，他说：“我时常想念家中的妈妈,也包括爸爸，是他们用无言的爱塑造了我的今天.那次暑假回家，我录下了呼吸的声音，每天晚上听着，感觉父母好像在身边一样。”
我们的心灵被深深震撼了，亲情是世界上最灿烂的阳光。无论我们走出多远，飞得多高，父母的目光都在我们的背后，我们永远是他们心中最最牵挂的孩子.大爱无言，而那份无言的爱，就是人世间最美的声音
Sand and stone
The story goes that two friends were walking through the desert. During some point of the journey they had an argument, and one friend slapped the other one in the face. The one who got slapped was hurt, but without saying anything, wrote in the said:” Today my best friend slapped me in the face.”
They kept on walking until they found an oasis, where they decided to take a bath. The one who had been slapped got stuck in the mire and started drowning, but the friend saved him. After he recovered from the near drowning, he wrote on stone: Today my best friend saved my life.
The friend who had slapped and saved his best friend asked him, after I hurt you, you wrote in the sand and now you write on a stone.why?
The other friend replied: When someone hurts us, we should write it down in sand where winds of forgiveness can erase it away .But when someone does something good for us, we must engrave it in stone where no wind ever erases it.
Learn to write your hurts in the sand and to carve your benefits in stone. They say it takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to appreciate him, a day to love him, but an entire life to forget him.
Send this phrase to the people you will never forget .It is a short message to let them know that you will never forget them.
Take the time to live.
伤害只写在沙地上
两个朋友在荒漠里穿行，途中他们发上了争执；其中一个人单了另一位一个耳光。被达的人非常伤心，但他什么也没说，只是在沙地上写到：“今天，我最好的朋友打了我一个耳光。”
他们继续往前走，发现了一片绿洲，他们决定在那里洗个澡。结果，被打的那位陷进了泥潭，眼看就要被淹死，结果他的朋友救了他。恢复过来都他在石头上写到：“今天，我最好的朋友救了我的命。”
那位打他并救了他的朋友问：“为什么我伤害你时，你在沙地上写下来，而现在却在石头上刻下来呢？”
被救的那位答到：“受到伤害时，我们应该把他写在沙地上，宽恕之风会将它抹平。可是受人恩惠时，我们应该把它刻在石头上，任何风雨也不会把它擦掉。”
学会将所受的伤害写在沙子上，把所的的恩德刻在石头上。有人这样说，找到一个特别的人只需要用一分钟，欣赏他需要用一小时，喜欢他需要用一天，但忘掉他却需要用一生的时间。
把这句话送给那些你永远无法忘记的人吧。这段短短的话能让他们知道你永远不会忘记他们。
此生不忘。
你好
FAMILY
FAMILY= (F)ATHER (A)ND (M)OTHER, (I) (L)OVE (Y)OU
A man came home from work late, tired and irritated, to find his 5-year old son waiting for him at the door.
"Daddy, may I ask you a question?"
"Yeah sure, what is it?" replied the man.
"Daddy, how much do you make an hour?"
"That's none of your business. Why do you ask such a thing?" the man said angrily. "I just want to know. Please tell me, how much do you make an hour?"
pleaded the little boy.
"If you must know, I make $20 an hour."
"Oh," the little boy replied, with his head down. Looking up, he said, "Daddy, may I please borrow $10?"
The father was furious, "If the only reason you asked that is so you can borrow some money to buy a silly toy or some other nonsense, then you march yourself straight to your room and go to bed. Think about why you are being so selfish. I work hard everyday for such this childish behavior."
The little boy quietly went to his room and shut the door. The man sat down and started to get even angrier about the little boy's questions. How dare he ask such questions only to get some money? After about an hour or so, the man had calmed down, and started to think: Maybe there was something he really needed to buy with that $10 and he really didn't ask for money very often.
The man went to the door of the little boy's room and opened the door.
"Are you asleep, son?" He asked.
"No daddy, I'm awake," replied the boy.
"I've been thinking, maybe I was too hard on you earlier," said the man, "It's been a long day and I took out my aggravation on you. Here's the $10you asked for."
The little boy sat straight up, smiling. "Oh, thank you daddy!e69da5e6ba90e799bee5baa6e79fa5e98193361" He yelled. Then, reaching under his pillow he pulled out some crumpled up bills. The man, seeing that the boy already had money, started to get angry again. The little boy slowly counted out his money, then looked up at his father.
"Why do you want more money if you already have some?" the father grumbled.
"Because I didn't have enough, but now I do," the little boy replied. "Daddy, I have $20 now. Can I buy an hour of your time? Please come home early tomorrow. I would like to have dinner with you."
e5a48de588b67a686964616f331 Words from the Heart
Most people need to hear those "three little words" I love you. Once in a while, they hear them just in time.
I met Connie the day she was admitted to the hospice1 ward, where I worked as a volunteer. Her husband, Bill, stood nervously nearby as she was transferred from the gurney2 to the hospital bed. Although Connie was in the final stages of her fight against cancer, she was alert and cheerful. We got her settled in. I finished marking her name on all the hospital supplies she would be using, then asked if she needed anything.
"Oh, yes," she said, "would you please show me how to use the TV? I enjoy the soaps so much and I don't want to get behind on what's happening." Connie was a romantic. She loved soap operas, romance novels and movies with a good love story. As we became acquainted, she confided how frustrating it was to be married 32 years to a man who often called her "a silly woman."
"Oh, I know Bill loves me," she said, "but he has never been one to say he loves me, or send cards to me." She sighed and looked out the window at the trees in the courtyard. "I'd give anything if he'd say ‘I love you,' but it's just not in his nature."
Bill visited Connie every day. In the beginning, he sat next to the bed while she watched the soaps. Later, when she began sleeping more, he paced up and down the hallway outside her room. Soon, when she no longer watched television and had fewer waking moments, I began spending more of my volunteer time with Bill.
He talked about having worked as a carpenter and how he liked to go fishing. He and Connie had no children, but they'd been enjoying retirement by traveling, until Connie got sick. Bill could not express his feelings about the fact that his wife was dying.
One day, over coffee in the cafeteria, I got him on the subject of women and how we need romance in our lives; how we love to get sentimental1 cards and love letters.
"Do you tell Connie you love her?" I asked (knowing his answer), and he looked at me as if I was crazy.
"I don't have to," he said. "She knows I do!"
"I'm sure she knows," I said, reaching over and touching his hands rough, carpenter's hands that were gripping the cup as if it were the only thing he had to hang onto "but she needs to hear it, Bill. She needs to hear what she has meant to you all these years. Please think about it."
We walked back to Connie's room. Bill disappeared inside, and I left to visit another patient. Later, I saw Bill sitting by the bed. He was holding Connie's hand as she slept. The date was February 12.
Two days later I walked down the hospice ward at noon. There stood Bill, leaning up against the wall in the hallway, staring at the floor. I already knew from the head nurse that Connie had died at 11 A.M..
When Bill saw me, he allowed himself to come into my arms for a long time. His face was wet with tears and he was trembling. Finally, he leaned back against the wall and took a deep breath.
"I have to say something," he said. "I have to say how good I feel about telling her." He stopped to blow his nose. "I thought a lot about what you said, and this morning I told her how much I loved her... and loved being married to her. You shoulda2 seen her smile!"
I went into the room to say my own good