A gray sweater hung limply1 on Tommy’s empty desk, a reminder of the dejected2 boy who had just followed his classmates from our third-grade room. Soon Tommy’s parents, who had recently separated, would arrive for a conference on his failing schoolwork and disruptive3 behavior. 

    Neither parent knew that I had summoned the other. 

    Tommy, an only child, had always been happy, cooperative and an excellent student. How could I convince his father and mother that his recent failing grades represented a broken-hearted child’s reaction to his adored parents’ separation and pending4 divorce﹖

    Tommy’s mother entered and took one of the chairs I had placed near my desk. Soon the father arrived. Good! At least they were concerned enough to be prompt. A look of surprise and irritation passed between them, and then they pointedly ignored each other.

    As I gave a detailed account of Tommy’s behavior and schoolwork, I prayed for the right words to bring these two together, to help them see what they were doing to their son. But somehow the words wouldn’t come. Perhaps if they saw one of his smudged5, carelessly done papers.

    I found a crumpled6 tear-stained sheet stuffed in the back of his desk, an English paper. Writing covered both sides -- not the assignment, but a single sentence scribbled7 over and over.

    Silently I smoothed it out and gave it to Tommy’s mother. She read it and then without a word handed it to her husband. He frowned. Then his face softened. He studied the scrawled words for what seemed an eternity.

    At last he folded the paper carefully, placed it in his pocket, and reached for his wife’s outstretched hand. She wiped the tears from her eyes and smiled up at him. My own eyes were brimming, but neither seemed to notice. He helped her with her coat and they left together.

    In his own way God had given me the words to reunite that family. He had guided me to the sheet of yellow copy paper covered with the anguished8 outpouring of a small boy’s troubled heart.

    The words, “Dear Mom ... Dear Daddy ... I love you ... I love you ... I love you.” 

    一件灰色套衫搭在湯米的空桌上,讓人想起這個情緒低落的男孩,他剛隨同學從三年級教室出去｡湯米最近分居的父母馬上就要來學校,討論他每況愈下的學習成績和搗蛋行為｡父母雙方都不知道對方要來｡

    湯米是個獨子,一直生活幸福,樂意合作,而且是個出色的學童｡我怎能使他的父母相信他近來學習成績下降是一個心碎的孩子對他敬愛的父母分居和即將離異的反應呢?

    湯米的母親進屋后坐在我放在我桌旁的其中一把椅子上｡不一會兒他的父親也來了｡不錯!至少他們還夠關心他,能準時來校｡他們之間交換了一下驚奇和氣惱的眼色,然后明顯流露出無視對方的神色｡

    我詳細敘述湯米的表現和學習情況,苦苦尋求恰當的詞語以圖把他們倆撮合在一起,幫助他們認識到他們的所作所為給孩子造成的后果｡但是不知怎么的就是找不到適當的話｡或許如果他們看看湯米的一紙臟污､漫不經心寫的作業……

    我在他桌子深處找到一張皺巴巴的滿是淚跡的紙｡那是張英語作業紙,正反兩面潦潦草草地寫滿了字,但不是布置的作業,而是翻來覆去的一句話｡

    我默默地把它捋平,遞給了湯米的母親｡她看完后沒吭一聲給了她丈夫｡他先是皺著眉,而后臉色變溫和了｡他仔細盯著潦草的字看了似乎無窮無盡的一段時間｡

    最后,他小心翼翼地折起紙,把它放進口袋里,手伸向他妻子伸出的手｡她擦去眼里的淚水,抬頭朝她的丈夫露出笑容｡我也熱淚盈眶,但是他們倆誰也沒注意到｡湯米的父親幫妻子穿上大衣,然后倆人一起走了出去｡

    上帝以自己的方式給了我使這一家破鏡重圓的詞語,他把我引向了那張滿是一個小男孩苦惱心情的痛苦傾訴的黃色作業紙｡

    那張紙上寫著:“親愛的媽媽……親愛的爸爸……我愛你們……我愛你們……我愛你們｡”