真正的勇气（3）
《美丽英文》作者：方雪梅 2017-04-14 12:47
真正的勇气（3）
As I looked at the faces of my fellow business travelers, I was stunned by the changes I saw in their faces. Many looked visibly frightened now. Even the most stoic looked grim and ashen. Yes, their faces actually looked gray in color, something I’d never seen before. There was not one exception. No one faces death without fear, I thought. Everyone lost composure in one way or another.
I began searching the crowd for one person who felt peace and calm that true courage or great faith gives people in these events. I saw no one. Then a couple of rows to my left, I heard a still calm voice, a woman’s voice, speaking in an absolutely normal conversational tone. There was no tremor or tension. It was a lovely, even tone. I had to find the source of this voice.
All around, people cried. Many wailed and screamed. A few of the men hold onto their composure by gripping armrests and clenching teeth, but their fear was written all over them. Although my faith kept me from hysteria, I could not have spoken so calmly, so sweetly at this moment as the assuring voice I heard. Finally I saw her.
In the midst of all the chaos, a mother was talking, just talking, to her child. The woman, in her mid-30’s and unremarkable looking in any other way, was staring full into the face of her daughter, who looked to be four years old. The child listened closely, sensing the importance of her mother’s words. The mother’s gaze held the child so fixed and intent that she seemed untouched by the sounds of grief and fear around her.
A picture flashed into my mind of another little girl who had recently survived a terrible plane crash. Speculation4 had it that she had lived because her mother had strapped her ow
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As I looked at the faces of my fellow business travelers, I was stunned by the changes I saw in their faces. Many looked visibly frightened now. Even the most stoic looked grim and ashen. Yes, their faces actually looked gray in color, something I’d never seen before. There was not one exception. No one faces death without fear, I thought. Everyone lost composure in one way or another.
I began searching the crowd for one person who felt peace and calm that true courage or great faith gives people in these events. I saw no one. Then a couple of rows to my left, I heard a still calm voice, a woman’s voice, speaking in an absolutely normal conversational tone. There was no tremor or tension. It was a lovely, even tone. I had to find the source of this voice.
All around, people cried. Many wailed and screamed. A few of the men hold onto their composure by gripping armrests and clenching teeth, but their fear was written all over them. Although my faith kept me from hysteria, I could not have spoken so calmly, so sweetly at this moment as the assuring voice I heard. Finally I saw her.
In the midst of all the chaos, a mother was talking, just talking, to her child. The woman, in her mid-30’s and unremarkable looking in any other way, was staring full into the face of her daughter, who looked to be four years old. The child listened closely, sensing the importance of her mother’s words. The mother’s gaze held the child so fixed and intent that she seemed untouched by the sounds of grief and fear around her.
A picture flashed into my mind of another little girl who had recently survived a terrible plane crash. Speculation4 had it that she had lived because her mother had strapped her ow