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100词英语美文精选

Anna Maes Honor

Can it really be thirty years since I received the last of the payments from Annie Mae? I find myself thinking about them more often as I approach my sixtieth birthday. Something about closing the chapters on six decades and opening the pages of a new one makes one reflect. Annie Mae’s life has deeply touched mine. I first met her at the home of my in-laws in 1959. I had moved with my husband and our one-year-old child to Tuscaloosa， Alabama， so my husband could complete his undergraduate work at the University of Alabama. My father-in-law was a professor of finance at the university， and my mother-in-law was active in university and community affairs. I vividly recall entering their driveway and being overwhelmed by the size of their home， the beauty of the furnishings， the manicured grounds and the pecan orchard. Annie Mae was my in-law’s maid. She prepared and served meals in her quiet， gentle way and then returned to the kitchen to read her Bible while we ate. She was a dedicated and devoted Christian. To me， she reflected the fruit of the Holy Spirit as found in Galatians 5：22-23. I found this increasingly true even though I came to know her more by observation than by conversation. My husband and I visited his parents frequently， and I became increasingly taken with this gentle， remarkable lady. Often when I saw her eating alone， reading her Bible， I wanted to sit down with her and just talk. However， whites did not do that with African Americans in the South in those days， and I conformed to the local practice -- though it conflicted with my Christian beliefs. I watched my son， Jimmy， play with her daughter， Jennifer Ann， who on occasion came to my in-laws’ place with her mother. The two children laughed and frolicked amid the trees in the pecan orchard. It was so easy for them. In 1965， my world was suddenly uprooted. I found myself alone with two young sons when my husband wanted a divorce. I was fortunate to receive a full scholarship to the University of Connecticut in the field of special education. I decided to sell the furniture and household items and return to my home state with just our clothes. Annie Mae asked if she could buy the boys’ beds. When I answered yes， she asked the price. “Thirty-five dollars，” I replied. Then， in her quiet way， she asked if I would sell them to her and trust her to send a little money each month. I admired her and knew her to be a woman of God， trustworthy and honest. The words of Proverbs 11 came to mind： “A good man [person] is guided…and directed by honesty…Be sure you know a person well before you vouch for his [or her] credit.” Annie Mae was honest， and I knew her well. So I said， “Annie Mae， take them， they are yours.” I returned to Connecticut with my two sons and found a chicken coop that had been con verted into four apartments. My neighbors and I all became family as we struggled to earn our degrees. Faithfully each month， while my boys and I lived there， an envelope arrived from Annie Mae -- two dollars， three dollars， five dollars， always in cash. That became the surprise money for my boys; I used it to get them something special -- an ice cream， cookies， an outing. My sons were thrilled when Annie Mae’s money came， for they knew that a surprise would be coming their way. A year passed. I earned my master of arts degree in special education and accepted a position as a special education teacher for the state of Connecticut. I had learned my lessons well. However， I was about to learn an even greater lesson， and Annie Mae would be the teacher. Annie Mae’s last payment arrived about the time I completed my studies. Along with it came the following note： Dear Mrs. Holladay， I am sending you my last payment of three dollars to pay for the beds in full. I told my two sons that they could now go to the storage shed and put the beds together and sleep in them， for they are now paid for and rightfully ours. Thank you for your trust. Love in Jesus， Annie Mae I could not believe my eyes. I read the note two or three times， my eyes filling with tears. Had I only known earlier， I would have said， “Use them now. Don’t wait until you pay for them.” Those would have been my thoughts， yet Annie Mae had other thoughts -- thoughts the world could truly use. She sacrificed. She struggled. And finally， when the beds were truly hers， she let her sons， Paul and John， sleep in them. She was a living example of absolute honesty， the honesty that should characterize all who claim to be Christian. This story has a postscript. After thirty years， I called directory assistance and found that Annie Mae still lived in Tuscaloosa. I called her， and later my second husband and I visited her， and I had that chat I never had thirty years ago. What a joy it was! Annie Mae had become a family and children’s worker for the state of Alabama and retired in May of 1996. Romans 13：8 says， “Pay all your debts except the debt of love for others， never finish paying that!” How Annie Mae reflects those words! Truly she is a remarkable woman， one whose life has been shaped by Bible principles.

100词英语美文阅读

孩子，当我渐渐老去的时候Dear son...

孩子…

The day that you see me old and I am already not， have patience and try to understand me …

哪天你看到我日渐老去，身体也渐渐不行，请耐着性子试着了解我……

If I get dirty when eating… if I can not dress… have patience.

Remember the hours I spent teaching it to you.

如果我吃的脏兮兮，如果我不会穿衣服……

有耐性一点……

你记得我曾花多久时间教你这些事吗?

If， when I speak to you， I repeat the same things thousand and one

times… do not interrupt me… listen to me

如果，当我一再重复述说

同样的事情…不要打断我，听我说….

When you were small， I had to read to you thousand and one times the same story until you get to sleep…

When I do not want to have a shower， neither shame me nor scold me…

你小时候，我必须一遍又一遍的读着同样的故事，直到你静静睡着……..

当我不想洗澡，不要羞辱我也不要责骂我……

Remember when I had to chase you with thousand excuses I invented， in order that you wanted to bath…

When yousee my ignorance on new technologies… give me the necessary time and not look at me with your

mocking smile…

你记得小时后我曾编出多少理由，只为了哄你洗澡…..

当你看到我对新科技的无知，给我一点时间，不要挂着嘲弄的微笑看着我

I taught you how to do so many things… to eat good， to dress well… to confront life…

我曾教了你多少事情啊….如何好好的吃，好好的穿…

如何面对你的生命……

When at some moment I lose the memory or the thread of our

conversation… let me have the necessary time to remember… and if I cannot do it，

do not become nervous… as the most important thing is not my

conversation but surely to be with you and to have you listening to me…

如果交谈中我忽然失忆不知所云，给我一点时间回想…

如果我还是无能为力，

请不要紧张…..

对我而言重要的不是对话，而是能跟你在一起，和你的倾听…..

100词英语美文学习

Love Letters

This past Christmas season， my husband， two daughters and I traveled to Spencer， West Virginia， to visit my parents. During this visit， I decided to explore their attic. They have lived in their home in the mountains since 1953， so investigating the attic was a trip down memory lane for me. I pulled down the folding steps and climbed the unstable ladder to the dusty， cold， wood-planked third floor. I looked around and noticed a very old， barrel-shaped covered basket in the corner. I seemed to remember that this basket was filled with old letters my parents wrote to each other during World War II. I opened the lid of the basket， and there they were， letters piled high， faded and dirty-untouched since the day they'd been tossed there. It seemed a shame to leave them that way. Deciding to read and organize them by day and month， I asked Mother and Daddy if I could take the letters back to my Illinois home. They agreed， and soon after returning， I started my little project. As I opened each letter， all of them delicate with age， I discovered a new and previously unrevealed page in this private chapter of my parents' lives. My father served in the Army as a first lieutenant， 117th Infantry in the 30th Division. His letters were full of frontline accounts of landing on Omaha Beach， and they continued all the way through the Battle of the Bulge. He wrote about his daily experiences with civilians， German POWs， refugees， foxholes， helmet baths and more. I was drawn to these letters like a magnet. Each of my mother's letters was sealed with her 1944 magenta lipstick kiss. Daddy wrote that he sealed his return letters by rekissing her lipstick kiss. I thought to myself， Oh， how they missed each other! This ritual filled a void in their lonely， war-torn lives. I finished reading six months of the letters and discovered there were at least eleven months missing. Where could they be? My mother couldn't remember-perhaps， she said， they had been left in her childhood home; she had lived there with her mother while Daddy was overseas. If so， that meant they were lost forever. Just six weeks after our Christmas visit， Daddy became very ill and was hospitalized. This time， he was fighting a different kind of war. A new prescription for arthritis had been introduced to his system， and it had almost killed him. He was scheduled for kidney dialysis when I decided to fly down to West Virginia to visit him. As I sat by his bedside， we discussed the letters. He told me how much receiving those lipstick-kissed letters had meant to him when he had been so far from home. As I left， the thought raced through my mind that tomorrow was Valentine's Day. But I quickly dismissed this thought. My father wasn't in any kind of shape to shop for a valentine. My parents had been married for fifty-six years. My mother would u nderstand that her valentine would just have to be skipped this year. Later that evening， Mother and I revisited the attic in search of the lost letters. "Perhaps they are in my oldcollege trunk，" my mother said as she quickly located the keys. She unlocked the large sixty-year-old trunk. Lying on top were old tattered clothes from years gone by. We started digging， and toward the bottom， we discovered an unmarked gold cardboard box. Mother said she had no clue what was inside. We both held our breath as I slowly lifted off the top. Yes! Here were the long-lost letters! They were all separated by month， tightly bundled in aged cotton twine. We took the letters downstairs， and I began looking through them. Lying separate， on top of the bundled letters， was a large envelope. I opened it up. It was the valentine card my father had sent Mother in 1944! The next day， Mother and I visited Daddy in the hospital. At his bedside， I joked with him， saying softly， "Today is Valentine's Day， and I know you have been a little busy lately， but I've got you covered." His curiosity was further aroused when I handed him the old envelope. He carefully opened the card， and when he recognized it， his eyes filled with tears. There was nothing lacking that Valentine's Day after all. My father， in a voice quavering with emotion， read the loving message he'd sent to my mother fifty-six years earlier. And this time， he could read it to her in person.