At first, Michael Surrell didn’t see the black smoke or flames shooting from the windows of his neighbors’ home. He and his wife had just parked around the corner from their own house in Allentown, Pennsylvania, when they got a call from one of his daughters, “The house next door is on fire!” He went to investigate. That’s when he saw two women and a girl hysterical (歇斯底里的) on their porch.

“The baby’s in there!” one of the women cried. Though the fire department had been called, Surrell, then 64, instinctively ran inside. The baby was 8-year-old Tiara Roberts, the woman’s granddaughter and a playmate of Surrell’s three youngest kids, then 8, 10, and 12. The other two on the porch were Tiara’s aunt and cousin.

Entering the burning house was like “running into a bucket of black paint” Surrell says. The thick smoke caused him to stumble blindly around, burned his eyes, and made it impossible to breathe. The conditions would have been hazardous for anyone, but for Surrell, who has chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (慢性阻塞性肺疾病), they were life-threatening. He was the last person who should have run into a burning building—he has lung disease. But that didn’t stop him.

After a few minutes in the smoke filled house, he retreated outside to catch his breath. “Where is Tiara?” he asked desperately. “The second floor.” her aunt shouted back.

Surrell knew he couldn’t hold his breath for long. So he uttered a little prayer, “Well, Lord, this is it. You gotta help me, because I’m not coming out without that little girl.” Taking a deep breath, he went in a second time.

The darkness was overwhelming. Yet because the house had a similar layout to his, he found the stairs and made it to the second floor. He turned to the right and was met by intense heat. He was already out of breath.

“Baby girl, where are you?” His throat and lungs burned as if he’d breathed in fire instead of the smoke and soot (烟灰) in the air. All he could hear was the crackling and popping of burning wood. Then a weak but distinct voice emerged. Still unable to see, Surrell fell to his knees on the hot wood floor. He crawled toward the sound, feeling around for any sign of the girl. An ominous thought crossed his mind: I’m probably gonna die up here.

Finally he touched something.

A voice told him, “You have to breathe for her.”

“I don’t think anyone is going to send you money, Jessica. People just aren’t that kind.” said my mother. I was shocked by such a comment. “But you’re wrong. People are kind and they will be generous enough to send me money.” I argued.

Last fall, I sent 200 letters to businesses, doctors and friends asking for sponsorship so I could attend the National Youth Leadership Forum on Medicine. everyone doubted my efforts, and I heard every excuse why people would be too busy to help me. “These people don’t even know you. Do you honestly think a stranger will send you money?” asked my friends. “Why put yourself through all this disappointment? Just forget it.” said my grandfather. I decided not to listen. The best thing I could do was to attend the Forum and learn more about my future career.

I waited weeks for my first response, which came from a bank. “Dear Jessica,” it read. “At this time. Our bank does not offer aid to students, but we wish you luck and success in your project.” My heart sank. I was rejected. I looked at my grandpa. “Well?” he asked. He should have been able to tell from my disappointed face. “ Here, ” I said, as I handed him the letter and locked myself in my room. But then I realized what I was doing. “It’s only one rejection,” I said to myself, “Cheer up. You will receive a letter with a check in it.”

I rushed home from school every day the next two weeks.

But one day, I came home and heard five beautiful words: Jessica, you have two letters.

The only life that Jeffrey had ever known was on the streets. He has been homeless since his parents fell ill and passed away.

As much as he tried, Jeffrey couldn’t find a permanent job when he grew up. He only had a few clothes, blankets and shoes. With no family or friends, he relied on his local shelter and soup kitchen. He would often ask the workers at a local burger (汉堡包) place for their leftovers to survive.

Jeffrey knew many people in the area and would help new tenants (房客) move into their apartments for a bit of money. He desperately wanted to find a job, but he knew he didn’t look the part (穿着与工作相宜). One day, as Jeffrey was looking through the garbage can outside the burger shop for food, he noticed a black object near the surface.

He picked it up and realized it was a wallet. Maybe one of the cooks dropped it, he thought. However, when he looked inside, he could recognize the I. D. picture. The wallet belonged to Alan, an old man who stayed a few blocks away.

Alan’s cards and cash were still inside the wallet, meaning he’d lost it by mistake. There was also a check for $3,000 inside the wallet. “This is life-changing money. I could get some fresh clothes, maybe rent a small studio apartment and finally get a job,” Jeffrey said to himself.

Jeffrey sat down with the wallet in his hands and decided to think about it first. He remembered asking Alan for money a few weeks before. Alan didn’t give him money because he would have an operation soon. Jeffrey knew he couldn’t live with the guilt of knowing a man would suffer if he took the money for himself. Even though he initially felt that the check may have been a gift, he quickly realized that it was more of a test.

Jeffrey walked a few blocks to Alan’s office.

A few weeks later, Jeffrey was outside the burger joint eating some leftover fries.