Tears of happiness poured down Susan’s cheeks. She was so lucky for he had given her a gift more powerful than sight, a gift she didn’t need to see to believe—the gift of love that can bring light where there is darkness.
当这个手持白杖的年轻女子小心翼翼地上车时，车上的乘客都向她投去怜悯的目光。她向司机付了车费之后，双手摸索着座位，然后坐好，把公文包放在膝盖上，手杖靠着腿。
34岁的苏珊失明已有一年了。一起医疗事故夺去了她的视力，她顿时陷入黑暗之中，内心充满愤怒、沮丧，还有顾影自怜，而她可以依靠的只有她的丈夫马克了。
马克是名空军军官，他深爱着苏珊。苏珊失明的头些日子，他眼睁睁地看着妻子陷入绝望，心里打定主意，要尽一切办法帮助她。
苏珊终于愿意重返工作岗位了。可她怎么去上班呢？以前都是乘公交车去的，但是她现在很害怕，自己一个人不敢在城里转。于是马克自告奋勇早晚坐公车接送，直到她可以一个人应付。这就是事情的经过。
整整两周，马克每天都一身戎装，陪着苏珊一起上下班，教她怎么凭借其他感官，尤其是听觉，判断她所处的位置，以及如何适应新的环境。他还帮她与司机交好，这样司机就能照顾她，并给她留个座位。
每天早上，他们都一起同行，然后马克再乘出租车回去上班。尽管马克得穿过整座城市，而且疲惫不堪，又花费不菲，但是他坚信苏珊一定能独立乘车的，只是时间问题。
最后，苏珊决定自己独自坐车上班。星期一上午，临行前，她紧紧地拥抱着自己的丈夫，眼里蓄满了感激的泪水，感谢他的忠诚，他的耐心，还有他的爱。她向他道了别，他们第一次朝着不同的方向走去。周一、周二、周三、周四……每天她的独行之旅都很顺利，苏珊感到一阵狂喜。她成功了！她真的能一个人去上班了！
周五早上，苏珊照常乘公共汽车去上班。就要下车了，司机说：“小姐，我真羡慕你啊。”苏珊感到很奇怪，便问司机为什么。
“是这样的，上星期，每天早上都有一个仪表堂堂穿着军装的男士一直站在拐弯处看着你下车，看着你安全地穿过街道，又看着你走进办公楼，他向你飞一个吻，冲你行个礼，然后才动身离去。你真是个幸运的姑娘啊！” 司机说。
苏珊的脸上流下幸福的泪水。她是幸运的，因为马克给了她比视力更珍贵的礼物，一份她不需要看就能体会到的礼物——这就是爱的礼物，它能给黑暗带来光明。
When Love Beckons You 当爱召唤你时
When love beckons to you, follow her, though her ways are hard and steep. And when her wings enfold you, yield to her, though the sword hidden among her pinions may wound you. And when she speaks to you, believe in her, though her voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.
For even as love crowns you so shall she crucify you. Even as she is for your growth so is she for your pruning. Even as she ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun, so shall she descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.
But if, in your fear, you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure, then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor, into the reasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears. Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself. Love possesses not, nor would it be possessed, for love is sufficient unto love.
Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself. But if you love and must have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understandings of love;
And to willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.
当爱召唤你时，请追随她，尽管爱的道路艰难险峻。当爱的羽翼拥抱你时，请顺从她，尽管隐藏在其羽翼之下的剑可能会伤到你。当爱向你诉说时，请相信她，尽管她的声音可能会打破你的梦想，就如同北风吹落花园里所有的花瓣。
爱会给你戴上桂冠，也会折磨你。爱会助你成长，也会给你修枝。爱会上升到枝头，抚爱你在阳光下颤动的嫩枝，也会下潜至根部，撼动你紧抓泥土的根基。
但是，如果你在恐惧中只想寻求爱的平和与快乐，那你就最好掩盖住真实的自我，避开爱的考验，进入不分季节的世界，在那里你将欢笑，但并不是开怀大笑，你将哭泣，但并非尽情地哭。爱只将自己付出，也只得到自己。爱一无所有，也不会为谁所有，因为爱本身就已自足。
爱除了实现自我别无他求。但是如果你爱而又不得不有所求，那就请期望：
将自己融化并像奔流的溪水一般向夜晚吟唱自己优美的曲调；
明了过多的温柔所带来的苦痛；
被自己对爱的理解所伤害；
并情愿快乐地悲伤。
在黎明带着轻快的心醒来并感谢又一个有爱的日子；
在中午休息并品味爱的喜悦；
在黄昏怀着感恩的心回家；
然后为内心所爱之人祈祷，吟唱赞美之歌，并带着祷告和歌声入眠。
In Giving I Connect With Others给予，让你我相连
I have lived with passion and in a hurry, trying to accomplish too many things. I never had time to think about my beliefs until my 28-year-old daughter Paula fell ill. She was in a coma for a year and I took care of her at home, until she died in my arms in December of 1992.
During that year of agony and the following year of my grieving, everything stopped for me. There was nothing to do—just cry and remember. However, that year also gave an opportunity to reflect upon my journey and the principles that hold me together. I discovered that there is consistency in my beliefs, my writing and the way I lead my life. I have not changed, I am still the same girl I was fifty years ago, and the same young woman I was in the seventies. I still lust for life, I am still ferociously independent, I still crave justice and I fall madly in love easily.
Paralyzed and silent in her bed, my daughter Paula taught me a lesson that is now my mantra: You only have what you give. It’s by spending yourself that you become rich.
Paula led a life of service. She worked as a volunteer helping women and children, eight hours a day, six days a week. She never had any money, but she needed very little. When she died she had nothing and she needed nothing. During her illness I had to let go of everything: her laughter, her voice, her grace, her beauty, her company and finally her spirit. When she died I thought I had lost everything. But then I realized I still had the love I had given her. I don’t even know if she was able to receive that love. She could not respond in any way, her eyes were somber pools that reflected no light. But I was full of love and that love keeps growing and multiplying and giving fruit.
The pain of losing my child was a cleansing experience. I had to throw overboard all excess baggage and keep only what is essential. Because of Paula, I don’t cling to anything anymore. Now I like to give much more than to receive. I am happier when I love than when I am loved. I adore my husband, my son, my grandchildren, my mother, my dog, and frankly I don’t know if they even like me. But who cares? Loving them is my joy.
