It was an early September day,cool and bright and just right for running,and I was in the first few miles of a 10 mile race over a course with a few high hills, 1 ,I felt energetic;despite the hills,it going to be a 2 run．
Just ahead of me was Peggy,a teacher from Mount Kisco．She was too running 3 ,moving along at my speed．The pace felt comfortable,so I decided to 4 where I was．Why pay attention to pace when she was setting such a good one?I'd overtake her 5 when she was tired．
So I ran behind her,The course 6 north for five miles,wandered west for a hilly mile,then turned south again along a winding road．The race was getting 7 ．We had four miles 8 and already it was beginning to be real work．
Peggy overtook a young runner．She seemed to 9 him,for they exchanged a few cheerful words as she passed him．Their exchange 10 me．
You don't chat during a race 11 you are feeling good and Peggy plainly was．
Sill,I was 12 enough to overtake her if she was tired,so I didn't give up hope completely．We were getting nearer to a tong,punishing hill now and it would be the 13 ．We were a mile from tile finish line, 14 whatever happened on the hill would almost certainly determine who crossed it first．
As I moved up the hill,my 15 wandered for a few minutes．When I 16 ,Peggy was moving away— first five yards,then ten,then more．Finally it was clear that there was no 17 of catching her．She beat me soundly．
There is an important 18 in that race,Women are thought to be weaker,slower and not nearly 19 skilled in sport．Yet as Peggy so clearly showed,the similarities between men and women runners are more important than the differences．I have run with 20 women,and I can say that it is often hard work．
In the winter of 1990, I was asked to appear on a television talk show in Toronto, Ontario, Canada．At the end of our first day of taping, I was on my way back to my 24-hour-room-service 1 when I saw something shocking．
On the sidewalk in four inches of snow was a man 2 with only a cardboard to keep him from being completely 3 to the freezing cold．What really broke my heart was when I 4 that he wore no shoes and socks．
I wanted to stop and help him, 5 I was not quite sure what to do．As the traffic light turned green, it seemed life was demanding that I 6 ．So I did．Back in "anything I wanted was mine" environment of my hotel, I immediately 7 about the man on the street．Several days later, I was eating Danish at the station．All of the "important" people had 8 the room and it was just me and the doorman remaining．
I had seen him 9 go about his business every day without saying a word except 10 ．When I asked him how he was 11 today, he told me that he'd been having to ride his bike to work in the snow and that he'd been feeling rather 12 for himself．．．that is, until he saw a man sleeping down on the corner of the street with just a 13 for covering from the cold and no shoes．I almost 14 on my Danish as I heard him go on to relate how he was so moved with 15 for the man that he bought the man a pair of socks and shoes．
As I heard his stay, I saw in my mind a 16 that used to be in an old friend's bedroom when I was a teenager．It was a picture of a child 17 someone a flower and the 18 below read：'The 19 deed often exceeds(胜过)the grandest of intentions．" As Mother Teresa 20 it, "none of us can do anything great on our own, but we can all do a small thing with great love．"
Grandpa worked as a carpenter．One day, he was building some 1 for the clothes his church was 2 to an orphanage(孤儿院)abroad．On his way home, he 3 into his shirt pocket to find his glasses, but they were 4 ．He remembered putting them there that morning, so he drove back to the church．His 5 proved in vain．
Suddenly, he realized what happened．The glasses had slipped out of his pocket unnoticed and 6 into one of the boxes, which he had nailed shut．His brand new glasses were 7 for another country!
The Great Depression was at its height, and Grandpa had six children．He had spent twenty dollars for those glasses that very morning．
Several months later, the director of the orphanage came to the United States．He wanted to visit all the churches that 8 him, so he came to 9 on Sunday night at my grandfather's small church in Chicago．Grandpa and his family sat in their usual seats 10 other people．
“But most of all,” he said, “I must thank you for the glasses you sent last year．You see, the 11 caused by tsunami had just swept through the orphanage, destroying everything, including my glasses．I was 12 ．Even if I had the money, there was simply no way of replacing those glasses． 13 I was not able to see well, my co-workers and I were much in prayer about this．Then your boxes arrived．When my staff 14 the covers, they found a pair of glasses lying on the top．” After a long pause, he continued, “Folks, when I 15 on the glasses, it was 16 they had been made just for me! I want to thank you for that!”
The people listened, happy for the 17 glasses．But the director surely must have 18 their church with another, they thought．There were no glasses on their list of items to be sent overseas．
But sitting 19 in the back, with tears streaming down his face, an ordinary carpenter 20 it well．
Forty-three years ago, I was a twelve-year-old boy in Marinette．An old lady was a 1 on my Paper route．On a Saturday afternoon, a friend and I were mindlessly throwing 2 onto the roof of the old lady's house from the bushes．The 3 of our play was to observe how the rocks changed to missiles(飞弹)as they 4 to the roof's edge and shot out into the yard like comets(彗星)．
I found a perfectly smooth rock and 5 it for a(n)ride．The stone was too smooth, however, so it 6 from my hand as I let it go and headed straight for a window．We were so 7 of getting caught that we took off 8 than any of our missiles that flew off her roof．
However ,a few days later, when I was sure that I hadn't been 9 , I started to feel guilty for her misfortune．She still 10 me with a smile each day when I gave her the paper．'
I made up my mind that I would 11 my Paper delivery money．Three weeks later, I had 7 dollars and put the money in an envelope with a note 12 that I was sorry for breaking her window and hoped that the money would cover the cost for 13 it．
I waited until it was 14 , sneaked up to the lady's house, and put the envelope by the door．The next day, I handed the lady her paper and returned the warm 15 which I was receiving from her．She 16 me for the paper and gave me a bag, saying, “ Here, I have some cookies for you．” I thanked her and 17 to eat the cookies as I continued my route．
After several cookies, I felt a(n) 18 and pulled it out of the bag．When I 9 it, 1 was shocked．Inside was the seven dollars and a short note, saying, “I'm 10 of you．”
I never knew how well Mother could keep a trust until I was going through her things after she died．I discovered something I had 1 forgotten, something that happened to me as a child．
One night, as I lay in bed 2 my sisters and I had said our prayers, I recalled the events of the day and how 3 I behaved toward Mother．“I must make things right before going to sleep, ” I thought．
Quietly I 4 out of bed and picked up pencil and paper from the dresser, then tiptoed into the hall．The 5 from the living room shone dimly．I knew Mother was downstairs mending socks．
I quickly 6 a note asking Mother to forgive me for being so 7 ．I didn't want my brothers and sisters to know my 8 , so I added a postscript： “Please don't let anyone see this．” Then I quietly moved 9 my parents’ bedroom and put the letter under Mother's pillow．
The next morning, when I 10 my bed after breakfast．I unexpectedly found a 11 note under my pillow．Mother wrote that she loved me and 12 me．
This became my 13 of apologizing whenever I talked back or disobeyed．Mother always left a return note, but she never 14 our under-the-pillow messages in front of the family．Even when we were 15 , she never mentioned them when we brothers and sisters recalled our childhood．
When mother 16 , I had to go through her personal belongings．In her desk was a bundle of notes tied with a faded ribbon．On top was a message in her handwriting．It read, “In the event of my death, please 17 these．”
I 18 the packet and glanced at the handwriting on the bottom．To my surprise I 19 my childish writing, “P．S．Please don't let anyone see this．Love, Edie．”
I gently placed the unopened bundle in the 20 along with other things for the rubbish burner．“Lord, ” I prayed “make me like my mother．”