Every year on my birthday, a white gardenia(栀子花)was 1 to my house．But no card or note came with it．Calls to the flower shop were always 2 －it was a cash purchase．After a while I stopped trying to discover the sender's identity and just 3 in the beauty and heady perfume of that one magical, perfect white flower lying in soft pink paper．
But I never stopped 4 who the giver might be．My mother 5 to these imaginations．She asked me if there was someone for whom I had done a special kindness who might be showing 6 ．I had more fun imagining that it might be a boy I fell in love with or one who had 7 me even though I didn't know him．
One month before my high-school graduation, my father died．My feelings 8 from sorrow to fear and 9 ：my dad was missing some of the most important events in my life．I became completely 10 in my coming graduation, the senior-class play and the ball．But my mother would not hear of my losing any of those things．Mother and I had gone shopping and found an impressive dress, but it was the 11 size．When my father died, I forgot about the dress．
The day before my ball, I found that dress－in the right size－hanging over the living room sofa．It was 12 to me so lovingly．I didn't 13 if I had a new dress or not．But my mother did．She wanted her children to feel 14 , filled with a sense that there was a beauty even in the face of 15 ．
My mother died ten days after I was married．The following year the gardenia stopped coming．
Every year on my birthday, a white gardenia(栀子花)was 1 to my house．But no card or note came with it．Calls to the flower shop were always useless-it was a cash 2 ．After a while I stopped trying to 3 the sender's identity and just 4 in the beauty and perfume of that magical, perfect white flower in 5 pink paper．
But I never stopped 6 who the giver might be．My mother 7 to these imagines．She asked me if there was someone for whom I had done a special kindness and who might be showing 8 ．I had more fun imagining that it might be a boy I fell in love with or one who had noticed me even though I didn't 9 him．
One month before my high-school 10 , my father died．My feelings 11 from sorrow to fear and anger：my dad was missing some of the most important 12 in my life．I became completely 13 in my coming graduation, the senior-class play and the ball．But my mother would not hear of my 14 any of those things．Mother and I had gone shopping and found an impressive dress, but it was the 15 size．When my father died, I forgot about the dress．
The day before my ball, I found that dress-in the right size-over the living room sofa．It was 16 to me so lovingly．I didn't 17 if I had a new dress or not．But my mother did．She wanted her children to feel 18 , filled with a sense that there was a beauty even in the face of 19 ．
My mother died ten days after I was married．The following year the gardenia stopped 20 ．
A lecturer was giving a lecture to his students on stress management．He 1 a glass of water and asked the audience, “How 2 do you think this glass of water is?”
The students’ answers 3 from 20g to 500 g．
“It does not matter on the absolute 4 ．It depends on how 5 you hold it．If I hold it for a minute, it is OK．If I hold it for a(n) 6 , I will have an ache in my right arm．If I hold it for a day, you will have to 7 an ambulance．It is exactly the 8 weight, but the longer I hold it, the 9 it becomes．” The whole audience became silent, lost in thought．
After a moment, the lecturer continued, “ 10 we carry our burden all the time, 11 , we will not be able to carry on with the burden becoming increasingly heavier, 12 heavy for us to bear．
“What you have to do is to 13 the glass, rest for a while 14 holding it up again．”
As is shown in the story above, we have to put down the burden periodically, 15 we can be refreshed and are able to carry on．
So before you 16 home from work tonight, put the burden of 17 down．Don’t carry it back 18 ．You can pick it up tomorrow．
Whatever burden you are having now on your 19 , let it down for a moment if you can．
Every year on my birthday, a white gardenia(栀子花)was 1 to my house．But no card or note came with it．Calls to the flower shop were always 2 －it was a cash purchase．After a while I stopped trying to 3 the sender's identity and just 4 in the beauty and heady perfume of that one magical, perfect white flower lying in 5 pink paper．
But I never stopped 6 who the giver might be．My mother 7 to these imaginations．She asked me if there was someone for whom I had done a special 8 who might be showing appreciation．I had more fun imagining that it might be a boy I fell in love with or one who had 9 me even though I didn't know him．
One month 10 my high-school graduation．my father died．My feelings 11 from sorrow to fear and 12 ：my dad was missing some of the most important events in my life．I became completely 13 in my coming graduation, the senior-class play and the ball．But my mother would not hear of my 14 any of those things．Mother and I had gone shopping and found an impressive dress, but it was the 15 size．When my father died, I forgot about the dress．
The day before my ball, I found that dress——in the right size——over the living room sofa．It was 16 to me so lovingly．I didn't 17 if I had a new dress or not．But my mother did．She wanted her children to feel 18 , filled with a sense that there was a beauty even in the face of 19 ．In truth, my mother wanted her children to see themselves much like the gardenia——lovely, strong and perfect——with an aura of magic and perhaps a bit of mystery．
My mother died ten days after l was married．The following year the gardenia stopped 20 ．
I met Connie the day she was admitted to the Hospice Ward(安养院的病房),where I 1 as a volunteer．Her husband, Bill, stood 2 nearby as she was removed from the gurney to the hospital bed．Although Connie was in the final stages of her fight 3 cancer, she was quick-minded and 4 ．We got her settled in, and then asked if she needed 5 ．
“Oh, yes,” she said, “Would you please show me how to use the TV? I 6 the soaps so much and I don’t want to get 7 on what’s happening．”Connie was a romantic．She loved soap operas(肥皂剧), romance novels and movies with a good 8 story．As we became familiar, she confided how 9 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 10 been one to say he loves me, or send cards to me．”She 11 and looked out of the window at the trees in the courtyard．“I’d 12 anything if he’d say ‘I love you’, but it’s just not in his 13 ．”
One day, 14 coffee in the cafeteria, I got him on the 15 of women and how we need romance in our lives; how we love to get sentimental cards and love letters．
“Do you tell Connie you love her?” I asked, and he looked at me 16 I was crazy．
“I don’t have to,” he said．“She knows I 17 !”
“I’m sure she knows,” I said, 18 over and touching his rough, carpenter’s hands, “but she needs to hear it, Bill．She needs to hear what she has 19 to you all these years．Please think about it．”
We walked back to Connie’s room．Bill 20 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．