Hello Steve, thanks for sending this message. I will put it in my friendship folder. Thank you for the time you take to moderate and run this list. Original message: > please take time to read this only a minute > IN GOD WE TRUST > To all my family & friends I want to > THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME. > ONCE YOU READ THIS, YOU WILL UNDERSTAND! > A young man learns what's most important in life from the guy next door. > It had been some time since Jack had seen the old man. College, girls, > career, and life itself got in the way. In fact, Jack moved clear across the > country in pursuit of his dreams. > There, in the rush of his busy life, Jack had little time to think about the > past and often no time to spend with his wife and son. He was working on his > future, and nothing could stop him. > Over the phone, his mother told him, "Mr. Belser died last night. The > funeral is Wednesday." Memories flashed through his mind like an old > newsreel as he sat quietly remembering his childhood days. > "Jack, did you hear me?" > "Oh, sorry, Mom. Yes, I heard you. It's been so long since I thought of him. > I'm sorry, but I honestly thought he died years ago," Jack said. > "Well, he didn't forget you. Every time I saw him he'd ask how you were > doing. He'd reminisce about the many days you spent over 'his side of the > fence' as he put it," Mom told him. > "I loved that old house he lived in," Jack said. > "You know, Jack, after your father died, Mr. Belser stepped in to make sure > you had a man's influence in your life," she said > "He's the one who taught me carpentry," he said. "I wouldn't be in this > business if it weren't for him. He spent a lot of time teaching me things he > thought were important...Mom, I'll be there for the funeral," Jack said. > As busy as he was, he kept his word. Jack caught the next flight to his > hometown. Mr. Belser's funeral was small and uneventful. He had no children > of his own, and most of his relatives had passed away. > The night before he had to return home, Jack and his Mom stopped by to see > the old house next door one more time. > Standing in the doorway, Jack paused for a moment. It was like crossing over > into another dimension, a leap through space and time The house was exactly > as he remembered. Every step held memories. Every picture, every piece of > furniture....Jack stopped suddenly. > "What's wrong, Jack?" his Mom asked. > "The box is gone," he said > "What box?" Mom asked. > "There was a small gold box that he kept locked on top of his desk. I must > have asked him a thousand times what was inside. All he'd ever tell me was > 'the thing I value most,'" Jack said. > It was gone. Everything about the house was exactly how Jack remembered it, > except for the box. He figured someone from the Belser family had taken it. > "Now I'll never know what was so valuable to him," Jack said. "I better get > some sleep. I have an early flight home, Mom." > It had been about two weeks since Mr. Belser died Returning home from work > one day Jack discovered a note in his mailbox. "Signature required on a > package. No one at home. Please stop by the main post office within the next > three days," the note read. > Early the next day Jack retrieved the package. The small box was old and > looked like it had been mailed a hundred years ago. The handwriting was > difficult to read, but the return address caught his attention. "Mr. Harold > Belser" it read. Jack took the box out to his car and ripped open the > package. There inside was the gold box and an envelope. Jack's hands shook > as he read the note inside. > "Upon my death, please forward this box and its contents to Jack Bennett. > It's the thing I valued most in my life." A small key was taped to the > letter. His heart racing, as tears filling his eyes, Jack carefully unlocked > the box. There inside he found a beautiful gold pocket watch. > Running his fingers slowly over the finely etched casing, he unlatched the > cover. Inside he found these words engraved: > "Jack, Thanks for your time! -Harold Belser." > "The thing he valued most was...my time" > Jack held the watch for a few minutes, then called his office and cleared > his appointments for the next two days. "Why?" Janet, his assistant asked. > "I need some time to spend with my son," he said. > "Oh, by the way, Janet, thanks for your time!" > "Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take but by the moments > that take our breath away," > Think about this. You may not realize it, but it's 100% true. > To everyone I sent this to " Thanks for your time".
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