English Original
It was under an old Banyan tree on the school playground in Hawai`i that I first met Timmy. I was an elementary school teacher and he was a gregarious five-year-old. A special friendship between us began to evolve.
One day in mid-August, Timmy's teacher came running into the school office with him. He was sobbing, and she was nearly hysterical. The bathroom door had slammed on his finger, causing severe bleeding. The school bus driver rushed them to the Emergency Room.
Minutes later, the doctor called, asking if we had found the fingertip, as there was a small chance to save it. Pulling myself out of a daze, I ran to the bathroom, found it, and drove it to the hospital.
The doctor was waiting, but the fingertip had already turned blue. It was too late. With a sinking heart, I asked to see Timmy.
He was lying on a gurney, his chest still heaving from sobs. I felt helpless. Then, an idea came to me. I whispered, "Timmy, did you know geckos grow their tails back? Little boys can grow their fingers back too."
His eyes grew wide. "They can?"
"Yep!" I said. "Close your eyes and I'll show you." I wanted to teach him the ancient Hawaiian methods of visual imagery and affirmations I had learned from kupunas (elders).
As he closed his eyes, I guided him: "Inside your head, you have a little voice. Use it to tell your finger how much you love and need it. Tell it you need it to dial the phone, write sentences, and point at things. Now say, 'Grow for me, finger. I love you and I need you.'"
After a moment, he opened his eyes, his tear-stained face glowing. I told him to do this whenever he thought of it during the day.
As I was leaving, I realized the adults around him might discourage this belief. I returned to his bedside. "Timmy, your finger will be perfectly fine. Let's wait until it's completely healed before we tell anyone about this special technique."
"Okay," he replied.
A few days later, Timmy returned to school with a large bandage. With a grin, he whispered, "I'm talking to my finger every day, wishing it well, and it's listening to me."
Weeks later, he sprinted to me with joyful energy, proudly showing his healing finger under the bandage. "See? It's growing back really good!"
A year later, Timmy came to say goodbye before moving away. His finger was completely healed—round, padded, with only a fine hairline scar.
Timmy remains in my heart as a constant reminder of the possibility of miracles. From him, I learned to challenge thoughts of failure. He inspires me to reach beyond accepted knowledge and remember the kupuna wisdom: all things are possible if you truly believe.
中文翻译
在夏威夷学校操场一棵古老的榕树下，我第一次遇到了蒂米。我是一名小学老师，而他是一个合群的五岁男孩。我们之间开始发展出一段特殊的友谊。
八月中旬的一天，蒂米的老师带着他跑进了学校办公室。他抽泣着，老师几乎歇斯底里。厕所门夹到了他的手指，血流不止。校车司机立即将他们送往急诊室。
几分钟后，医生打来电话，问我们是否找到了指尖，因为还有一丝挽救的可能。我从恍惚中回过神来，跑到厕所找到了指尖，仔细包好后开车送往医院。
医生在等着我。不幸的是，指尖已经变蓝了。为时已晚。我心情沉重地询问蒂米在哪里。
他躺在平板推车上，胸口因哭泣仍在起伏。我感到无能为力。突然，我有了一个主意。我弯下腰在他耳边低语：“蒂米，你知道壁虎（我们夏威夷的蜥蜴）能重新长出尾巴吗？小男孩也能重新长出手指哦。”
他柔和的绿眼睛兴奋地睁大了。“真的吗？”
“当然！”我肯定地说。“闭上眼睛，我教你。”我想教他我年轻时从库普纳（长老）那里学到的古老夏威夷视觉想象和肯定陈述法。
当他闭上眼睛，我开始引导：“蒂米，在你的脑海里有一个小小的声音。用那个声音告诉你的手指你有多爱它，多需要它。告诉它你需要用它来拨电话、在学校写句子、指东西。现在说，‘为我长出来吧，手指。我爱你，我需要你。’”
过了一会儿，他睁开眼睛，泪痕未干的小脸焕发光彩。我告诉他白天只要想起来就这么做。
告别时，我吻了他的额头，正要离开，突然意识到他生活中的成年人可能不了解这种方法的真正力量，反而会打击他。我不愿让局限性的信念吞噬蒂米创造奇迹的可能性，于是转身回到他的床边。“蒂米，”我对他说，“你的手指会完全好起来的。我们等到它完全愈合了，再告诉别人这个特别的方法。”
“好的。”他回答。
几天后，蒂米手指上缠着厚厚的绷带回学校了。他咧嘴笑着，悄悄对我说：“我每天都跟我的手指说话，祝愿它好起来，它在听我说话呢。”
几周后，蒂米欢快地冲到我面前，自豪地揭开绷带给我看‘他的成果’。“看，”他说，“它真的在好好地长回来！”
一年后，蒂米来向我告别，他要和家人搬到另一个社区了。他的手指完全愈合了，圆润饱满，就像正常的食指一样，只留下一道细细的疤痕。
蒂米永远留在我的心中，作为一个永恒的提醒，提醒我奇迹的可能性。从他身上，我学会了在脑海中浮现失败念头时去挑战它。直到今天，蒂米依然激励我超越时代公认的知识，铭记库普纳的智慧：只要你真心相信，一切皆有可能。