My husband Adlai and I often went camping to celebrate special occasions. In fact, our anniversary was coming up. But this time I felt a sense of1. I couldn't think about my journal.
For birthdays and anniversaries,2giving each other cards that we were not interested in, Adlai and I wrote letters. For nine years, I'd written almost all of mine in a journal. For our eighteenth anniversary, we had gone camping. After a hike, we returned to3our letters. But the campsite was4by a bear. Our tent fell down. Worst of all, my journal was5. We searched for hours, but it was6.
I never7. I always wanted to have back those nine years of letters! One day, I came home to find a car in our driveway. Two8stood in the yard with Adlai. Adlai held up a weather-beaten book. My journal! The woman and her husband had9it weeks earlier in the underbrush. She was10when reading my love letters. "We only have your first names, so it is a bit11to find you. Luckily, we make it," the woman said.
As a result of their12 , I could hug my journal again. I just couldn't thank them more. There are always people in the world who show13to others. What the couple did doesn't14change our lives, but it can certainly change the way we15about life.
