袁立公益 | 有人愿意为你翻山越岭而来

摘要：This year, we came back with the stories of three summer camps—the sea wind of Qingdao, the scorching heat of Changsha, and, the o

今年，我们带着三场夏令营的故事归来——青岛的海风、长沙的炎热，还有最让我们纠结的，城口的群山与纯真孩子们。

This year, we came back with the stories of three summer camps—the sea wind of Qingdao, the scorching heat of Changsha, and, the one that tugged at our hearts most, the mountains and innocent children of Chengkou.

城口的夏令营，从决定要办的那一刻起，就充满了挣扎。它是重庆最偏远、海拔最高的县城，山路蜿蜒，经常发大水，离主城区重庆五个小时车程。从地图上看，它几乎悬在重庆与西安之间。

From the moment we decided to hold the Chengkou camp, it was full of struggles.It is the most remote and highest-altitude county in Chongqing, with winding mountain roads and frequent floods, five hours’ drive from the central city. On the map it seems to hang between Chongqing and Xi’an.

我们救助过城口许多受尘肺病折磨的家庭，我们团队也去过无数次，也记得那些已经离开的人儿，李子树下沉默的蒋学兵、燕子飞走后再没回来的龙云燕、他“骑”着我们赠送的电轮椅在马路上飞奔，那个对着袁老师说“我活了你的命”的汪顶兴，也许随着他的离世，袁老师似乎在此地，没有再牵挂的病人了。这些汉子们的背影、家庭的沉重，土地上无声的呐喊，都让我们牵挂心痛放不下。

We have aided many families tormented by pneumoconiosis there; our team has visited countless times and still remembers those who have left: the silent Jiang Xuebing under the plum tree; Long Yunyan who never returned after the swallow flew away; the man who "rode" the electric wheelchair we gave him, speeding along the road; Wang Dingxing, who once told Ms. Yuan, “You gave me my life.” Perhaps with his passing, Ms. Yuan felt she had no more patients here to worry about. The backs of these men, the heaviness of their families, the silent cry of the land—all keep us concerned and aching.

今年遗憾的是，那个叫英杰的孩子没能到来。父亲因病去世，母亲离家，哥哥在外打工，爷爷不放心他独自远行。袁老师始终记得抱着他说：陈英杰，来我们夏令营，始终记得在他们家，从爷爷的手中接过了一个烤熟的玉米。

This year, regretfully, a boy named Yingjie could not come. His father died of illness, his mother left home, his elder brother works away, and his grandfather would not let him travel alone. Ms. Yuan still remembers holding him and saying, “Chen Yingjie, come to our camp,” and still remembers taking a roasted corn from his grandfather’s hands in their home.

今年在营地，当助学表上那些陌生的名字，终于变成眼前真实的孩子——那个低头抿嘴笑的女孩，那个说话时总搓着衣角的男孩，那个一唱歌眼睛就发亮的少年……他们不再是表格里的一行信息，而是有温度、有故事、有渴望的一个个山里明亮的少年。那一刻，所有的跋涉突然赋予了意义，与哀哭的人同哭，与喜乐的人同乐。

At the campsite, when the strange names on the aid forms finally became living children before our eyes—the girl who lowers her head and smiles, the boy who keeps twisting his sleeve when he speaks, the teenager whose eyes light up the moment he sings—they were no longer lines in a spreadsheet but warm, story-filled, eager young souls from the mountains. In that instant, all the trudging gained meaning: to weep with those who weep, to rejoice with those who rejoice.

孩子们在营地

结营那天，孩子们唱起《四季的问候》。这首练习了无数次的歌，登台时却唱得七零八落——因为所有人都哭了。孩子们抱着带队老师不肯松手，眼泪成了这个夏天最真实的告别。那一刻，我们明白，有些情感，不需要完美演绎，眼泪就是最真诚的注脚。

On closing day, the children sang “Greetings of the Four Seasons.” The song they had practised countless times came out broken and uneven—because everyone was crying. They hugged the team leaders and would not let go; tears became the truest farewell of the summer. We realized then that some emotions need no perfect performance—tears are the most sincere footnote.

离别的不舍

老师们，再见

夏令营结束后，我们随机走访了十几户家庭，每推开一扇门，都像打开一个被折叠的世界。那些在活动中开怀大笑的孩子，背后可能藏着无人知晓的夜晚。他们早早学会了把眼泪咽下，把责任扛起，像山间的小树，在石头缝里默默生长，等待有一天能为家人撑起一片天。

After the camp, we randomly visited a dozen homes. Each door we opened felt like unfolding a hidden world. Behind the children who laughed freely during activities might lie unknown nights. They learned early to swallow tears and shoulder responsibility, like young trees in mountain crevices, quietly growing until one day they can shelter their families.

结营后的探访

这让我们更加确信：公益，从来不只是金钱的送达，而是情感的抵达；夏令营，也绝不只是一场活动，而是一次次心灵的靠近。钱可以解决一时之困，但真正能治愈一个人的，是知道自己没有被遗忘、被放弃。是有人愿意翻山越岭而来，只为看见你真实的样子，陪伴你注视你。我们可能无法改变每一个孩子的四季，但希望至少，能成为他们雨天里的一把伞，黑夜中的一盏灯。明年，我们还想再来，听他们讲新的故事，陪他们走更远的路。

This deepened our conviction: charity is never just the delivery of money, but the arrival of affection; a summer camp is never merely an event, but repeated approaches of heart to heart. Money can solve temporary difficulties, yet what truly heals is knowing one is not forgotten or abandoned. It is knowing someone is willing to cross ridges just to see your real self, to stay and watch you.We may not be able to change every child’s seasons, but we hope at least to be an umbrella in their rainy days, a lamp in their dark nights.Next year, we want to come again, to hear their new stories and walk farther with them. Because some connections, once begun, do not end easily—occasionally healing, often helping, always comforting.