Forty-three years seems like a long time to remember the name of a mere acquaintance. I have forgotten the name of an old lady, who was a customer on the paper route in my home town when I was a twelve-year-old boy. Yet it dwells in my memory that she taught me a lesson in forgiveness that I shall never forget.

On a winter afternoon, a friend and I were throwing stones onto the slanted roof of the old lady's house from a spot near her backyard. The object of our play was to observe how the stones changed to missiles as they rolled to the roof's edge and shot out into the yard like comets falling from the sky. I found myself a perfectly smooth rock and threw it out. The stone was too smooth, however, so it slipped from my hand as I let it go and headed straight not for the roof but for a small window on the old lady's back porch . At the sound of fractured glass, we knew we were in trouble. We turned tail and ran faster than any of our missiles flew off her roof.

I was too scared about getting caught that first night to be concerned about the old lady with the broken window in winter. However, a few days later, when I was sure that I hadn't been discovered, I started to feel guilty for her misfortune. She still greeted me with a smile each day when I gave her the paper, but I was no longer able to act comfortable in her presence.

I made up my mind that I would save my paper delivery money, and in three weeks I had the seven dollars that I calculated would cover the cost of her window. I put the money in an envelope with a note explaining that I was sorry for breaking her window and hoped that the seven dollars would cover the cost for repairing it.

I waited until it was dark, snuck up to the old lady's house, and put the letter I didn't sign through the letter slot in her door. My soul felt redeemed and I could have the freedom of, once again, looking straight into the old lady's kind eyes.

The next day, I handed the old lady her paper and was able to return the warm smile that I was receiving from her. She thanked me for the paper and gave me a bag of cookies she had made herself. I thanked her and proceeded to eat the cookies as I continued my route.

After several cookies, I felt an envelope and pulled it out of the bag. When I opened the envelope, I was stunned. Inside were the seven dollars and a short note that said, "I'm proud of you."

記住一個僅是認識的人的名字，43年似乎是段很長的時間。我已經(jīng)忘了那位老太太的名字，她是我12歲那年在家鄉(xiāng)送報時的一位客戶。不過，她曾給我上的那堂關(guān)于“寬恕”的課卻始終讓我難以忘懷。

一個冬天的下午，我和一個朋友在離這個老太太家屋后不遠的一個地方往她家斜斜的屋頂上扔石子玩。我們的目的是觀察這些石子如何順著屋頂?shù)男逼伦兂梢活w發(fā)射物，在滾落到屋頂邊緣的瞬間，像滑過天空的彗星那樣射入院中。我給自己找了顆十分光滑的石子，然后扔了出去。但是，這顆石子太光滑了，出手的一剎那，它偏離了方向。它沒有落在屋頂上，反而直接擊中了老太太屋后門廊上的一扇小窗戶。聽到玻璃破碎的聲音，我們知道闖禍了。我們掉頭拔腿就跑，跑得比任何一顆從她屋頂發(fā)射的石子都要快。

當天晚上，我太害怕被抓住，沒有考慮到冬天里的破玻璃窗會給老太太帶來什么樣的麻煩。但是，過了幾天，當我確信自己沒被發(fā)現(xiàn)時，就開始對給她帶來的倒霉事感到內(nèi)疚了。每天我給她送報紙時，她依舊笑瞇瞇地迎接我。不過，在她面前，我已經(jīng)不像過去那樣自在了。

我決定把送報掙的錢攢起來。三周后，我便有了7美元。我估計這大概夠賠償她的窗戶了。我把錢裝進一個信封，并附上一張紙條，解釋說我對打破她家的窗戶感到很抱歉，希望這7美元足夠賠付修窗戶的錢。

我一直等到天黑，才悄悄走到她家門前，把這封沒有署名的信從信箱口投進了她家。做完這件事情后，我感到自己的靈魂好像得到了解脫，獲得了新的自由，能夠重新正視老太太慈祥的目光了。

第二天，當老太太微笑著從我手上接過報紙時，我也能向她回報一個熱情的微笑。她對我的送報工作表示感謝，送了我一紙袋她親手做的餅干。謝過她后，我一邊吃著餅干，一邊繼續(xù)去給別的客戶送報紙。

吃了幾塊餅干后，我摸到了一個信封，就把它拽了出來。當我打開信封時，我不禁怔住了。信封里有7美元和一張紙條，上面寫道：“我為你感到驕傲?！?/P>

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