找到前进的道路　Finding a Way to Move on

I would maintain that thanks are the highest form of thought；and that gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder.

～G.K.Chesterton

November sunlight lay in golden patches along the quiet neighborhood street. I sat on the front stoop watching a handful of leaves dance to the rhythm of an early morning breeze.We had gathered at my sister's house to celebrate Thanksgiving, but I wasn't sure I had a grateful bone in my body.

The year had been a tumultuous one. A year filled with loss and pain.In fact, I had already named it the“year of tears”.From January until now, I could not recall a single day that tears had not rushed to my eyes.I wondered if the storm in my soul would ever subside.Would I spend the rest of my life struggling with this grief, nursing this awful ache in my heart?

It wasn't like me to be so wrapped up in my sorrow. I had lived through troubling times before and managed to come through with praise on my lips and a song in my heart.And even now, there had been brief periods of enjoyment, but they seemed to vanish as quickly as they came.

As I wrestled with my thoughts that autumn morning, I suddenly remembered a day when my daughter was in second grade. She came to me one afternoon and carefully handed me four small pieces of hardened clay.

“Mom，”she said, looking dismal.“My world fell apart.”

I didn't understand at first, but on closer inspection I could clearly see she had fashioned a world from the blue and green mixture of clay that now lay broken in my hands.

Acting like the typical fix-it-all mother, I gently led Anna into my office and, with a few pieces of tape, put her clay world back together again.

She was not impressed.“But, Mom，”she said with a deep sigh.“It's got holes and cracks in it.”Indeed, it did.

For years, I kept that cracked ball of clay in my desk drawer, unable to forget my child's disappointment when her“world”had fallen apart. How appropriate that I would think of it at a time like this.

Later in the afternoon, we joined hands around the table and paused for a time of prayer. With a voice soft and low, my father said，“Children, we have so much to be thankful for today.”

I cannot tell you the impact that simple sentence had upon me. As my eyes swept around the table, I looked at each member of my family-all carrying burdens of their own.Yet there they sat, strong and in good health, all smiling expectantly, nodding in agreement.

It was then I realized that, at some point during my year of tears, I had simply stopped living, stuck in the rut of my pain. Something had to change.

As we bowed our heads to pray, the prayer found in the third chapter of Habakkuk became my own that day：“Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord. I will be joyful in God my Savior.The Lord God is my strength.”

We returned home a few days later, and I decided to start a“blessings”journal. Though my heart remained heavy, I looked harder to find the good things in my life-things for which I was thankful-and I wrote them down.

The first few months were a struggle, not because there was nothing to record, but because my anger and grief kept surfacing. I could not see beyond the pain.I still wanted to hurt those who had wronged me.

Yet in time, this simple writing exercise changed me. I began noticing things I had often overlooked, or taken for granted.The bright red cardinal perched on the ledge outside my kitchen window went into my blessings journal.And when I stood in line at the grocery store and overheard the delightful sounds of a baby laughing, I added that to my list.The intricate shape of a leaf.The smile of a stranger at the gas station.Fresh linens on the bed.The moon's path across the water.All these simple things went into my blessings journal.

And a curious thing happened. Whenever I started counting my blessings, my heart filled up with gratitude, leaving little room for anything else.

～Dayle Allen Shockley

我坚持认为，感激不仅是思想的最高形式，而且能让快乐翻倍。

——G. K.切斯特顿

11月的阳光明媚照人，洒落在小区路面上，周围静悄悄的。我坐在门廊前，看着一片片树叶伴着清晨的微风翩翩起舞。我们都来到姐姐家庆祝感恩节，但是我觉得自己天生不爱感恩。

这一年过得乱糟糟的，满是失落与痛苦。其实，我已经把这一年称做了“哭泣之年”。从一月份到现在，我想不起来哪一天不是以泪洗面的。恐怕我内心的暴风雨永远也无法平息了。难道我下半辈子就要和痛苦作斗争，悉心照料内心的痛楚了吗？

陷入悲伤无法自拔，这一点也不像我的作风。以前我历经磨难，最后做到了嘴中赞扬耶稣、心中响起欢快的圣乐。现在，即使有片刻的欢愉，它们也会转瞬即逝。

在那个深秋的早晨，我努力不去胡思乱想，但还是突然想起女儿读二年级时的一件事情。那天下午，女儿跑来找我，小心翼翼地交给我四片硬黏土。

“妈妈，”女儿看上去很沮丧，“我的世界都塌了。”

一开始，我没明白女儿什么意思，可再仔细一看，恍然大悟。原来女儿用蓝色和绿色的黏土捏出了自己的小世界，但现在只剩下我手中的碎片了。

我像其他典型的“万能”母亲一样，领着安娜走进办公室，用了几条胶带，又把她的黏土世界拼凑在了一起。

女儿并不满意。“妈妈，但是，”她深深地叹了口气，“上面有小洞和缝隙了。”确实，我也能看到。

许多年来，我都把那团破裂的黏土放在桌子抽屉里，无法忘记女儿的“世界”崩塌时，她是多么绝望。这个时候想起这件事，真是再合适不过了。

下午晚些时候，我们围到桌前，合上双手，准备祷告。父亲轻声细语说道：“孩子们，今天我们要感谢的事情太多了。”

这句简单的话让我深受震撼，简直无法用言语来表示。我扫了一眼桌子，看着每个家人——他们都有各自的负担。然而，他们都在这里，内心坚强，身体健康，乐观地露出笑容，赞许地点头。

接着，我发觉在“哭泣之年”的某些时候，自己停下了生活的脚步，过于沉浸在苦痛的深渊中。我必须有所改变。

那天我们低下头做祷告时，《哈巴谷书》27第三章中的祈祷文成了我内心的箴言：“虽然无花果树不发旺，葡萄树不结果，橄榄树也没收成，田地不出粮食，圈中绝了羊，棚内也没有牛。然而，我要因耶和华欢欣，因救我的上帝喜乐。主耶和华是我的力量。”

几天后，我们回到家里。我决定开始写“赐福”日志。虽然内心依旧沉重，但我要努力找寻生活中美好的事物，还要把它们一一记下。

刚开始的几个月困难重重，不是因为没有事情可记，而是因为愤怒和悲伤不断向我袭来。除了悲痛，我什么也感觉不到。我还是想报复那些伤害我的人。

但是，这种简单的记录方法及时改变了我。我开始注意到那些经常忽略的事情，或者认为是理所当然的事情。那只栖息在厨房外窗台上的鲜红色北美红雀也被写进了“赐福”日志。当我排在杂货店的队伍里时听到婴儿愉悦的笑声，也把这个记了下来。奇形怪状的树叶，加油站一个陌生人的微笑，新换的床上用品，月亮的倒影划过水面，所有这些简单的事情都写进了我的“赐福”日志。

接着，奇特的事情发生了。每当我回顾能让自己快乐的事情时，内心就充满了感恩之情，再也容不下别的了。

——黛儿·艾伦·肖克莱