When counting down the days until homecoming, some women choose to track paydays, school days, or Mondays. Me? I always counted trash days. Each time I rolled the green, heavy bin down the driveway, I considered it one of the most intolerable jobs of a Navy wife.

Occasionally, a neighbor would take pity on me and replace my trashcan back to the side of the house after the garbage men were done with it. And once, when I had maggots in the bottom of the bin, a few men from the neighborhood were nice enough to dispose of them and Clorox, the trashman, did not tell me about the whole incident until a year later.

“It takes a village to do Sarah’s trash,” one neighbor, Stanford, joked. “And sometimes it also takes a village to change Sarah’s flat tire, to kill big bugs in her living room, and to fetch her son’s toy airplane that landed on the roof.” Hearing his words, I wondered if I wasn’t being strong enough and if I shouldn’t take my title of “Navy dependent” so literally as to mean I was, well, dependent.

“Don’t be silly,” my neighbors would say. “We’re glad to help.” More than hanging a flag from their doors, they said helping a Navy family made them feel like they were doing their part.

Surprisingly to me, despite doing my lawn every week and occasionally my trash and home repairs, these neighbors often told me I was far from “dependent”. Instead of focusing on the things I was not doing myself, my neighbors were in awe at the things I had done alone. And most of these things (caring for sick babies in the middle of the night, dealing with emergencies), I had done without my realizing it or giving myself credit.

I learned that being strong and independent doesn’t necessarily mean doing it all. There are few people who can do everything themselves. Most people are eager to offer help, which they think rewarding. So don’t decline help.

Bob, a Burroughs junior high school football player, always had his mom cheering him on. He didn’t play exciting positions. He played as a linebacker(中后卫球员). Sadly, he often found himself at the bottom of the piles, where everyone would jump onto each other at the end of every play. Bob's mom realized it was hard for her son to hear her cheering. She had to find a solution, but couldn't find one.

Then one day the coach from the school team asked him if he wanted to join the team. Bob was ecstatic, because he was only a ninth grader. His mom was also excited, since she loved football and especially loved watching her son play. She kept considering a way for him to hear her. A cowbell! That was it. Now from the bottom of the piles Bob would hear his mom shaking her cowbell crazily, knowing she was there for him.

Bob's team finally made it to the state championship game. What exciting time to play at Busch Stadium under the lights! This experience made Bob appreciate all the years that his mom had sacrificed everything to get him to practice every day, to wash his uniforms, and to never miss a game. He had to do something.

On the night of the state championship game, the loudspeakers introduced Bob, and as he walked onto the field his mom shook the cowbell, hard. However, it didn’t sound right. She looked its inside, and found a note saying,”Thank you, Mom.” Bob had left her a note expressing his appreciation for always being with him, filling her heart with warmth.

Finally Burroughs claimed the title of State Champion. While others were cheering and admiring the state championship cup, Bob' s mom clutched(紧握) her cowbell happily.

Years later, Bob’s mom died. While digging through her belongings, he found the cowbell with the note. Bob took it to his mom's funeral and rang it, whispering, "Thank you, Mom.”

It was Jennifer William's mother who got her hooked on books. As a librarian, she read to her three children every day. “Not until we went to kindergarten,” Williams told the local news site. “Until we went to college.”

When Williams, now 54, became an elementary school teacher and tutor in Danville, Virginia, she wanted her students to fall in love with reading just as she had. But early on, she realized that some kids had limited access to books.

To Williams, the solution was simple: Give kids books. In 2017, as part of a civic event called Engage Danville, she gave away 900 used children's books over three days. Most people would be satisfied with that.

“I was like, ‘Anybody could do that,’” she said. “I wanted to do something that's going to stretch my faith, my work ethic, my everything.”

So she raised the ante considerably by setting a new goal for herself: Give away one million books. It sounds like an unreachable number, but as Williams posted on Face book: “Don't complain in the bleachers if you aren't willing to work hard out on the field.”

In the four years she's been devoted to her work. The Book Lady, as Williams has come to be known, has given away more than 78,000 books—only 922,000 more to reach her goal! And she's not slowing down. It's too important for kids with few options.

“Reading can take you anywhere,” she said. “You can travel in time and space. If you can read, you can learn almost anything.”