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Too Busy For A Friend

Posted by: bigguyhereagain <bigguyhereagain@...>

***  Too Busy For A Friend *** 

One day a teacher asked her students to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name.

Then she told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down.

It took the remainder of the class period to finish their assignment, and as the students left the room, each one handed in the papers.

That Saturday, the teacher wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and listed what everyone else had said about that individual.

On Monday she gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire class was smiling. "Really?" she heard whispered. "I never knew that I meant anything to anyone!" and, "I didn't know others liked me so much." were most of the comments.

No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. She never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were happy with themselves and one another. That group of students moved on.

Several years later, one of the students was killed in Viet Nam and his teacher attended the funeral of that special student. She had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. He looked so handsome, so mature.

The church was packed with his friends. One by one those who loved him took a last walk by the coffin. The teacher was the last one to bless the coffin.

As she stood there, one of the soldiers who acted as pallbearer came up to her. "Were you Mark's math teacher?" he asked. She nodded: "yes." Then he said: "Mark talked about you a lot."

After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates went together to a luncheon. Mark's mother and father were there, obviously waiting to speak with his teacher.

"We want to show you something," his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket. "They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might recognize it."

Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times. The teacher knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which she had listed all the good things each of Mark's classmates had said about him.

"Thank you so much for doing that," Mark's mother said. "As you can see, Mark treasured it."

All of Mark's former classmates started to gather around. Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, "I still have my list. It's in the top drawer of my desk at home."

Chuck's wife said, "Chuck asked me to put his in our wedding album."

"I have mine too," Marilyn said. "It's in my diary."

Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. "I carry this with me at all times," Vicki said and without batting an eyelash, she continued: "I think we all saved our lists."

That's when the teacher finally sat down and cried. She cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see him again.

The density of people in society is so thick that we forget that life will end one day. And we don't know when that one day will be.

So please, tell the people you love and care for, that they are special and important. Tell them, before it is too late.

And One Way To Accomplish This Is: Forward this message on. If you do not send it, you will have, once again passed up the wonderful opportunity to do something nice and beautiful.

If you've received this, it is because someone cares for you and it means there is probably at least someone for whom you care.

If you're "too busy" to take those few minutes right now to forward this message on, would this be the VERY first time you didn't do that little thing that would make a difference in your relationships?

The more people that you send this to, the better you'll be at reaching out to those you care about.

Remember, you reap what you sow. What you put into the lives of others comes back into your own.

 
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*** Wings Over The Mountains of Life *** 

 
I have duly forgotten the name of an elderly lady who was a customer on my paper route when I was a twelve-year-old boy in Marinette, Wisconsin back in 1954.  Forty-three years seems like a long time to remember the name of a mere
acquaintance.Yet it seems like just yesterday that she taught me a lesson in forgiveness that I can only hope to pass on to someone else someday.
 
On a mindless Saturday afternoon, a friend and I were
throwing rocks onto the roof of the old lady's house from a secluded spot in her backyard.  The object of our play was to observe how the rocks changed to missiles as they rolled to the roofs edge and shot out into the yard like comets falling from the sky.
 
I found myself a perfectly smooth rock and sent it for a ride. The stone was too smooth, however, and it slipped from my hand as I let it go and it headed straight for a small window on the womens back porch. At the sound of fractured glass, we took off faster than any of our missiles flew off her roof.  I was too scared about getting caught to be concerned about the old lady with the broken porch window.
 
However, a few days later, when I was sure that I hadn't been discovered, I started to feel guilty for her misfortune. She still greeted me with a smile each day when I gave her the paper, but I was no longer able to act comfortable in her presence.  I made up my mind that I would save my paper delivery money, and in three weeks I had the seven dollars that I calculated would cover the cost of her window.
 
I put the money in an envelope with a note explaining that I was sorry for breaking her window and hoped that the seven dollars would cover the cost for repairing it.  I waited until it was dark, snuck up to her house, and put the envelope of retribution through the letter slot in her door.  My soul felt redeemed and I couldn't wait for the freedom of, once again, looking straight into the old lady's eyes.
 
The next day, I handed the old lady her paper and was able to return the warm smile that I received from her.  She thanked me for the paper and said, "Here, I have something for you."
 
It was a bag of cookies.
 
I thanked her and proceeded to eat the cookies as I continued my route.
 
After several cookies, I felt an envelope and pulled it out of the bag.   I was stunned when I opened the envelope.
 
Inside were the seven dollars and a short note that said, "I'm so proud of you."
 
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Have a Blessed Day
Dave and Barbara
 
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