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¡¡¡¡Some years ago on a hot summer day in south Florida a little boy decided togo for a swim in the old swimming hole behind his house.

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¡¡¡¡In a hurry to dive into the cool water,he ran out the back door,leavingbehind shoes,socks,and shirt as he went. He flew into the water,notrealizing that as he swam toward the middle of the lake,an alligator wasswimming toward the shore. His mother - in the house was looking out thewindow - saw the two as they got closer and closer together. In utterfear,she ran toward the water,yelling to her son as loudly as she could.

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¡¡¡¡Hearing her voice, the little boy became alarmed and made a return to swimto his mother. It was too late. Just as he reached her,the alligatorreached him.

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¡¡¡¡From the dock, the mother grabbed her little boy by the arms just as thealligator snatched his legs. That began an incredible tug-of-war betweenthe two. The alligator was much stronger than the mother, but the motherwas much too passionate to let go. A farmer happened to drive by, heard herscreams, raced from his truck, took aim and shot the alligator.

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¡¡¡¡Remarkably, after weeks and weeks in the hospital, the little boy survived. His legs were extremely scarred by the vicious attack of the animal and, on his arms, were deep scratches where his mother's fingernails dug into his flesh in her effort to hang on to the son she loved.

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¡¡¡¡The newspaper reporter who interviewed the boy after the trauma, asked if he would show him his scars. The boy lifted his pant legs. And then, with obvious pride, he said to the reporter. But look at my arms. I have great scars on my arms, too. I have them because my mom wouldn't let go.

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¡¡¡¡You and I can identify with that little boy. We have scars, too. No, not from an alligator, or anything quite so dramatic. But, the scars of a painful past. Some of those scars are unsightly and have caused us deep regret.

¡¡¡¡¿´ÁËÕâ¸öСÄк¢µÄ¹Êʺó£¬ÈËÃǶ¼ÄܸÐͬÉíÊÜ¡£ÆäʵÎÒÃÇÿ¸öÈËÉíÉ϶¼ÓÐÉË°Ì¡£Ö»²»¹ý²¢²»ÊDZ»öùÓãÒ§µÄ£¬»òÈκÎÈç´ËÏ·¾çÐÔʼþËùÔì³É£¬¶øÊǹýÍùµÄÍ´¿à¾­ÀúËùÁôϵġ£ÄÇЩÉË°ÌÊÇÈç´ËÄÑ¿´£¬ÈÃÈËÉî¸Ð°Ã»Ú¡£

¡¡¡¡But, some wounds, my friend, are because God has refused to let go. In the midst of your struggle, He's been there holding on to you.

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¡¡¡¡They're gone now.

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¡¡¡¡I stood in the driveway and watched my grown children drive off into the distance. I lookeddown the road until I could no longer see their vehicles.

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¡¡¡¡"They live way too far away from me," I said to myself. "When did they grow up and becomeparents of small children? Shouldn't that be me?"

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¡¡¡¡I slipped back inside the house and just walked through the rooms for no reason in particular. I was just missing them already and looking for signs of their having been here. There werepillows on the floor where they had been tossed from the couch and a few stuffed animals lyingaround where the children had been playing.

¡¡¡¡Îһص½ÎÝÀֻÊÇÂþÎÞÄ¿µÄµØÐÐ×ßÓÚ¸÷¸ö·¿¼äÀï¡£ËûÃDzŸÕ×ߣ¬ÎÒ¾ÍÒѾ­¿ªÊ¼ÏëËûÃÇÁË£¬Ö»ºÃÔÚÎÝÀïÑ°ÕÒ×ÅËûÃÇÔø¶ºÁôµÄºÛ¼£¡£µØ°åÉϵÄÕíÍ·ÊǺ¢×ÓÃÇ´Óɳ·¢ÉÏÈÓÏÂÀ´µÄ£¬Ò»Ð©²¼ÈÞÍæ¾ß¶¯ÎïÕýÌÉÔÚº¢×ÓÃÇ֮ǰÍæË£µÄµØ·½¡£

¡¡¡¡I smiled at the little fingerprints on my mirror. I didn't wipe them off. I thought back to the timewhen I tried so hard to keep the fingerprints off the mirrors and doors when my children weresmall. Now, I wanted the tiny fingerprints to stay so that I could see them there just a littlelonger.

¡¡¡¡ÎÒ¶Ôמµ×ÓÉϵÄСָӡ΢Ц£¬Ã»È¥²Á¡£»ØÏëÆðµ±Îҵĺ¢×Ó»¹Ð¡Ê±£¬ÎÒ½ßÁ¦²»Èþµ×Ӻͷ¿ÃÅÕ´ÉÏÖ¸Ó¡¡£ÏÖÔÚ£¬ÎÒÏ£ÍûÕâЩСָӡ¶¼ÁôÔÚÉÏÃ棬ºÃÈÃÎÒ¿´¾ÃÒ»µã¡£

¡¡¡¡As I walked around the house, I picked up a few items on the floor and straightened a chair. Idecided to sort through the toy box and I found a flying dinosaur, a skeleton, and aFrankenstein that had mysteriously taken up residence in my box of toys.

¡¡¡¡µ±ÎÒÔÚÎÝÀïËÄ´¦ÓÎ×ßʱ£¬ÎÒ¼ñÆðµØÉϵÄһЩÎïÆ·£¬²¢°ÑÒ»ÕÅÒÎ×Ó°ÚÕý¡£ÎÒ¾ö¶¨ÕûÀíÒ»ÏÂÍæ¾ßÏäÀïµÄÍæ¾ß¡£¶øÎÒ·¢ÏÖÁËÒ»Ö»»á·ÉµÄ¿ÖÁú¡¢Ò»¼Ü¶¯Îï÷¼÷ã¬Á¬¸¥À¼¿Ï˹̹Õâ¸öÈËÔì¹ÖÎïÒ²²»ÖªÔõµÄ¾ÍÉñÃصØÅܵ½ÄÇÍæ¾ßÏäÀïÁË¡£

¡¡¡¡I walked into the kitchen and there on the back of the sink was a bottle brush that had beenleft behind. "Ah, even Tessa left something behind," I announced. Well, I suppose she hadhelp since she was just four months old.

¡¡¡¡ÎÒ×ß½ø³ø·¿£¬Ë®³ØºóÃæÓÐÒ»¸ö±»ÂäϵÄÏ´Æ¿Ë¢¡£¡°¹þ£¬Á¬ÌØɯҲÂäÏÂÁËÒ»¸ö¶«Î÷£¬¡±ÎÒ˵µÀ¡£àÞ£¬¿Ï¶¨ÊÇÓÐÈË°ïËýˢƿ×Ó¸øÂäϵģ¬±Ï¾¹ËýÖ»ÓÐËĸöÔ´ó¡£

¡¡¡¡"I wonder what else has been left behind," I said out loud to no one in particular. My husbandheard me and joined the search for things left behind.

¡¡¡¡¡°ÎÒÏëÖªµÀ»¹ÓÐʲô¶«Î÷ÂäÏÂÁË£¬¡±ÎÒ´óÉùµØ×ÔÑÔ×ÔÓïµÀ¡£ÎÒÕÉ·òÌý¼ûÁËÎҵĻ°£¬Ò²ºÍÎÒÒ»¿éËÑÑ°ÄÇЩÂäϵĶ«Î÷¡£

¡¡¡¡It seems like every time our family gets together something is left behind. When I call mychildren to tell them what they have left behind I am usually told, "Oh, just bring it when youcome," "Keep it for me until I come back the next time," or "Hey, I really need that, would youmind mailing it to me?"

¡¡¡¡Ëƺõÿ´ÎÎÒÃǼÒÍ¥¾Û»á£¬ËûÃÇ×Ü»áÂäÏÂһЩ¶«Î÷¡£Ã¿´ÎÎÒ´òµç»°¸æËßÎҵĺ¢×ÓËûÃǶ¼ÂäÏÂЩʲôµÄʱºò£¬ËûÃÇͨ³£»á¸úÎÒ˵£¬¡°àÞ£¬Ï´ÎÄãÀ´Ê±¸øÎÒÃÇ´øÉÏ°É¡£¡±»òÕß¡°°ïÎÒÁô×Å£¬Ï´ÎÎÒ»ØÈ¥ÔÙÈ¡¡£¡±ÓÖ»òÕß¡°àË£¬ÎÒ¼±×ÅÓã¬ÄÜ°ïÎÒÓʼĹýÀ´Â𣿡±

¡¡¡¡"Oh look! Here's Tegan's tooth," I said to my husband as I picked up a ziplock bag with hername engraved on it. Tegan had a loose tooth and had managed to wiggle it out earlier in theday. "Now, she can't put it under her pillow. I wonder if it will work if I put it under my pillow. The Tooth Fairy is going to be so confused!" I laughed.

¡¡¡¡¡°àÞ£¬¿´£¡ÕâÊÇÌ©¸ùµÄÑÀ£¬¡±Îұ߼ñÆðÒ»¸öд×ÅËýÃû×ÖµÄ×Ô·â´ü£¬±ß¶ÔÕÉ·ò˵µÀ¡£Ì©¸ùÏÈÇ°ÓпÅÑÀËÉÁË£¬½ñÔçËý³É¹¦°ÑËüקÁËÏÂÀ´¡£¡°ÏÖÔÚ£¬Ëýû·¨°ÑÑÀ·ÅÔÚËýµÄÕíÍ·ÏÂÁË¡£ÎÒÏëÖªµÀ£¬Èç¹ûÎÒ°ÑËü·ÅÔÚÎÒµÄÕíÍ·Ï£¬ÄÇ´«ËµÊÇ·ñ×àЧ¡£ÑÀÏÉ×Ó»áºÜÀ§»óµÄ£¡¡±ÎÒЦÁË¡£

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¡¡¡¡My mother had a habit of keeping my letters, bindingthem carefully in neat bundles with green tape, butthis was her own secret. She never told me she wasdoing it. In 1957, when she knew she was dying, Iwas in hospital in Oxford having a serious operationon my spine and I was unable to write to her. Soshe had a telephone specially installed beside herbed in order that she might have one lastconversation with me.

¡¡¡¡Ä¸Ç×Ï°¹ß±£´æÎÒд¸øËýµÄÐżþ£¬Ëý°ÑÕâЩÐÅСÐÄÒíÒíµØÓÃÂÌË¿´øÀ¦µÃÕûÕûÆëÆë¡£µ«ÕâÊÇËý×Ô¼ºµÄÃØÃÜ£¬Ëý´ÓÀ´Ã»ÓиæËß¹ýÎÒËýÔÚÕâô×ö¡£1957Ä꣬ËýÖªµÀ×Ô¼º½«²»¾ÃÓÚÈËÊÀÁË£¬ÄÇʱÎÒÕýÔÚÅ£½òסԺ£¬×öÒ»¸öÖØ´óµÄ¼¹×µÊÖÊõ£¬ËùÒÔÎÞ·¨¸øËýдÐÅ¡£ÓÚÊÇ£¬ËýÈÃÈËרßøËýµÄ´²±ß°²×°ÁËÒ»²¿µç»°£¬ÕâÑùËý¾ÍÄܹ»ºÍÎÒ×îºó˵Éϼ¸¾ä»°¡£

¡¡¡¡She didn't tell me she was dying, nor did anyone else for that matter, because I was in a fairlyserious condition myself at the time. She simply asked me how I was and hoped I would getbetter soon and sent me her love. I had no idea that she would die the next day. She knewperfectly that her life was numbered in hours, but she still wanted to reach out and speak to mefor the last time.

¡¡¡¡ËýûÓиæËßÎÒËý¼´½«Òª²»¾ÃÈËÊÀÁË£¬±ðµÄÈËҲûÓиæËßÎÒ£¬ÒòΪÎÒµ±Ê±×Ô¼ºµÄÉíÌå×´¿öÒ²ºÜ²»ÀÖ¹Û¡£ËýÖ»ÊÇÎÊÎÒÔõôÑùÁË£¬Ï£ÍûÎÒÔçÈÕ¿µ¸´£¬²¢ÇÒ˵Ëý°®ÎÒ¡£ÎÒË¿ºÁ²»ÖªËýµÚ¶þÌì¾ÍҪȥÊÀÁË¡£ËýºÜÇå³þµØÖªµÀ×Ô¼ºÔÚÕâÊÀÉÏÒ²¾Í¼¸¸öСʱµÄ¹â¾°ÁË£¬µ«ÈÔÈ»ÏëÒª×îºóÒ»´ÎºÍÎÒͨ»°¡£

¡¡¡¡When I recovered and went home, I was given this vast collection of my letters, all neatlybound with a green tape, more than six hundred of them altogether, dating from 1925 to 1945, each one in its original envelope with the old stamps still on them. I am very lucky to havesomething like this to refer to in my old age.

¡¡¡¡ÎÒ¿µ¸´ºó»Øµ½¼Ò£¬Äõ½ÁËÄÇÒ»´óÀ¦ÎÒµÄÐżþ£¬ÕûÕûÆëÆëµØÓÃÂÌË¿´øÀ¦×Å£¬×ܹ²ÓÐÁù°Ù¶à·â£¬Ð´ÐŵÄʱ¼äÊÇÔÚ1925µ½1945Äê¼ä£¬Ã¿Ò»·â¶¼×°ÔÚÔ­À´µÄÐÅ·âÀÌù×ÅÔ­À´µÄ¾ÉÓÊƱ¡£ÔÚÄêÀÏʱÄÜÓµÓÐÏñÕâÑùµÄ¶«Î÷ʱ³£·­¿´ÎÒÕæÊÇÐÒÔË¡£

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