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A Son's Love
Our church
congregation in Toronto has a way of assisting those who have financial
difficulties without making the recipient feel shame or guilt. Money is dropped
into an offering box with only the name of the recipient on the envelope. The
envelopes are then distributed to those members without them knowing the name
of the giver.
There came a time when
my husband and I were among those in need. We
did not talk about our financial difficulty with anyone. The only reason
our children knew was because we had to cut back on many things. Still, we
hoped they were not aware of the extent of our need, nor of how much their
father and I were suffering because of it. We
did not want to burden them with a problem they could do nothing to solve.
Our situation wasn't
improving, and my husband and I knew that we would have to look for outside
help. Just as we reached the point of despair, our church gave us a gift
envelope that had been left in the offering box. We were overjoyed to receive a very substantial amount of money, enough
to bring us through that desperate time. We couldn't
help but wonder who had given such a generous gift. We were extremely relieved and
enormously grateful.
A year later, our
seventeen-year-old son was applying for a student loan so he could attend
university. It was then we discovered that his savings account was almost
empty. His father and I were very disturbed by this. We had trusted him to put
part of his wages from his part-time job into the bank towards his education.
From the time he was nine years old he had been a paper carrier for The Toronto
Star, and he had worked very hard for his small earnings.
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Anxious, I asked him
repeatedly to tell me where the money had gone.
……
Finally, in tears, and
with great reluctance, my son told us the truth.
答案:Anxious, I asked him to tell us where the money had gone. Hesitant and wordless, he didn't dare to look directly into my eyes, but lowered his head, almost to his chest, with hands tightly clasped and face blushing. The scene that he kept so silent like a statue brought more anxiety to my already burning heart. Countless doubts and speculations roared in my messy mind, every nerve in my body yelling at me to hound him for the answer. "Tell the truth!" I urged, determined to find out where the money had gone. Then, over his face came a torn look. Finally, in tears, and with great reluctance, my son told us the truth. "I sent it to the offering box with your names," he murmured, the salty water pooling in his eyes. His words suddenly hit me like lightning. I was glued to the spot, speechless, with a lump in my throat—it had taken my son years to save that money. He had given it to us willingly—without telling us what he had done. The following moment witnessed me drawing my son into my arms, sobbing and apologizing. Never in my life had I been aware of my son's love, silent but pure and deep, which had saved our family and now warmed my life like sunshine.