On a Friday evening in December, two weeks before Christmas, I lost my job. When my daughter, Kristil, then 12, and I planned to get our Christmas tree, I listened to my voicemail: "We're sorry but your work 1 has ended today." My heart sank. As a single parent, my anxiety 2 .
The next day as we searched for the tree, I 3 to be cheerful as I eyed each price tag (标签).
"Is everything OK?" Kristil asked. "You seem worried."
"I got some bad news yesterday," I told her. "I lost my job."
I eagerly wanted to 4 a job as my bank account became smaller. I felt as if the world was closing in on me.
One afternoon, I dropped Kristil in a wealthy community for a birthday party. I watched as she went in, 5 with all the nice things we couldn't afford. I drove home 6 . Back at home, I glanced out the window. It had been snowing 7 all morning. I noticed a slim woman trying to open her car door 8 the wind. As she got out, I realized it was my old professor, Sister Esther Heffernan. I'd first met her 10 years earlier when I was her student at Edgewood College. Kristil was 3 at that time, and I sometimes took her to class. Such was Sister Esther, a(n)9 professor. When I was busy with lessons, she would 10 coloring books to occupy Kristil.
"Well, I called last week but couldn't get through. 11 . I thought I would come by." Sister Esther said. "I have gifts for you and Kristil."
I made her a cup of tea, and we talked. Being in Sister Esther's 12 gave me hope that things would be all right. I opened her card as she 13 . Hundred-dollar bills fell onto the table. I took a deep breath 14 , tears of gratitude streaming down my face. Sister Esther had given me $1,000.
On Christmas Eve, I 15 watched as Kristil opened her gifts. In 2020, at age 91, Sister Esther died, but the love she gave during her life lives on in the hearts of many. I am lucky to be one of them.
