当我还是修生的时候，曾经发生了这样一个故事。

一个炎热的中午，我进了修院旁边的一个小小的冰激凌专卖店。

当我咯咯地嚼着我的香蕉冰激凌球的时候，一位母亲和她的儿子迈进了这家小店。

她们看起来来自穷人家庭，但是他们却表现得很大方，很体面。

她的儿子大约有两岁。他的妈妈很快地点了冰激凌，然后坐在了我的对面。

服务员将点的冰激凌很快送到了她们的桌子上，但是，所送的冰激凌只是一个球的。 这位母亲所要的冰激凌不是那个季节最畅销的，最好吃的。那份冰激凌是最便宜的一种，而且是在菜单的最下面。

当服务员离开后，这位母亲拉开自己的手提包，取出了一根细小的蜡烛，然后将蜡烛轻轻地插在了冰激凌球上。点燃了这根蜡烛后，这位母亲开始低声地唱起了“生日快乐”。

在那个时刻，在那个小店，没有任何其他的小朋友、没有气球、没有小丑、没有玩具、没有新衣服、没有庆典装饰；有的只是这位母亲，一位永远不会忘记自己儿子生日的母亲。也许没有其他的人记得，也许整个世界也已经忘记了，但他的母亲决不会忘记。有这样的母亲为这个两岁的儿子已经足够了。

那个时刻，我静静地为她们做了一个祈祷，那个时刻，我的冰激凌在杯子里已经融化了。

Once when I was still a seminarian I decided to go to a nearby ice cream shop because it was a terribly hot day. As I gobbled up my banana split, I saw a woman entering with her son. They looked poor but decent.
 
The boy was probably two-years old. His mother placed her order, took the table next to mine, and waited. The server came and brought them one scoop of ice cream. It seemed to me that she ordered the cheapest ice cream that was on the bottom of the menu. It certainly did not look like the flavor of the month that was being advertised.
 
When the waiter had left, the mother opened her purse, took out a small candle, put it on top of the ice cream, lighted it, and sang----Happy Birthday in a whisper.
 
There were no other children, balloons, clowns, and toys. No new clothes and fancy airs. Just his mother who made sure that her sons’ coming to life was remembered. The whole world might not know or might have even forgotten but not his mother. She will never forget; and she was enough. I silently said a prayer for them as my ice cream melted in its bowl.