they understand. On Valentine's Day, Mary's envelope overflowed. She looked at each card without comment and replaced it in her container. She didn't take them home, but at least she looked at them.

She arrived at school insufficiently dressed for the bitterly cold weather. Her raw, chapped hands - without mittens（手套） - cracked and bled. Although she seemed oblivious to sore hands and the cold, I sewed buttons on her thin coat, and the children brought caps, scarves（围巾） , sweaters and mittens. Kristie, like a little mother, helped Mary bundle up before she went outdoors, and she insisted on walking to and from school with her.

In spite of our efforts, we seemed to be getting no closer to Mary as the cold, dreary（沉闷的，枯燥的） March days dragged by. Even my faith was wearing thin. My heart ached so desperately, wanting this child to come alive, to be aware of the beauty the wonder, the fun - and, yes - even the pain of living.

Dear God, I prayed, please let one small miracle happen. She needs it so desperately.

Then on a late March day, one of the boys excitedly reported a robin（知更鸟） in the schoolyard. We flocked to the window to see it. "Spring's here!" the children cried. "Let's make a flower border for the room!"

Why not? I thought. Anything to lift our spirits. This time the papers we selected were beautiful pastel（蜡笔，颜料） colors - with brown strips to weave into baskets. I showed the children how to weave the baskets and how to fashion all the flowers we welcome in early spring. Remembering the valentine incident, I expected nothing from Mary; nevertheless, I placed the beautifully colored papers on her desk and encouraged her to try. Then I left the children to do their own creating, and I spent the next half-hour sorting scraps of paper at the back of the room.

Suddenly, Kristie came hurrying to me, her face aglow（通红的） . "Come see Mary's basket," she exclaimed. "It's so pretty! You'll never believe it!"

I caught my breath at its beauty. The gently curled petals（花瓣，翼瓣） of hyacinths（风信子） , the daffodils'（水仙花） fluted（有凹槽的） cups, skillfully fashioned crocuses（番红花） and violets - work one would expect from a child much older.

"Mary," I said. "This is beautiful. How did you ever manage?"

She looked at me with the shining eyes of any normal little girl. "My mother loved flowers," she said simply. "She had all of these growing in our garden."

Thank you, God, I said silently. You've given us the miracle. I knelt and put my arms around the child. Then the tears came, slowly at first, but soon she was sobbing her heart out against my shoulder. The other children had tears in their eyes, too, but theirs - like mine - were tears of joy.

We fastened her basket in the very center of the border at the front of the room. It remained there until school ended in June. On the last day, Mary held it carefully as she carried it out the door. Then she came running back, pulled a crocus from her basket and handed it to me. "This is for you," she said, and she gave me a hug and a Mary moved away that summer. I lost track of her, but I'll never forget her. And I know God is caring for her.

I've kept the crocus in my desk ever since - just to remind me of Mary and of the enduring power of love and faith.

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