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 Posted: Sat Sep 17, 2005 11:06 pm
I figured, with Katrina and the war, and every thing else in the world right now, I would make a thread. A thread, so we can say a prayer, or blessing, or just THANKS.
And, it doesnt have to be a WORLD thing. It can just be something you want support with. Sort of, our own Life Issues. I hope this will make our guild closer.
I will start.
Thanks. We have so many things, so many people, to be thankful for.
With Katrina and its destruction, it seems, things cannot get worse. Things could, but we pray, they wont. We thank those, who put there lives at risk for others. Thanks you, you...deserve more praise then you get.
So many, have experienced loss recently. Support them through and allow them to move on.
From those who help in everyday life, to those who are everywhere other than home. Praise them.
Amen
((This is just a blessing, to no peticular God or gods, address it to who you like. ))
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Posted: Sat Sep 17, 2005 11:09 pm
'Life is only a journey to perfection.' - Kikuka
'Life is a test, something, everyone of us, will ace.' - Kikuka
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Faulty Ambition Vice Captain
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Posted: Mon Sep 19, 2005 7:26 pm
[ Message temporarily off-line ]
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Posted: Mon Sep 19, 2005 7:29 pm
Thanks Eviltwinears. Amazing. Hopefully we can really move this thread along.
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silentdraconis Vice Captain
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Posted: Sat Nov 05, 2005 5:46 am
(I guess it died at birth. And yes, this is a really late post. I forgot about this place...)
If I ever remember where I put it- I'll post my 'Ode to the Soldiers' Until then, settle on the thanks stuffies below.
Thank you-
Anyone that's ever shed a tear for someone they didn't know.
Anyone that's ever been there for someone on the brink
Anyone that's ever spared tie to comfort, time to care
Thanks to you,
Who offer freedom to the dowtrodden
Who whisper words of welcome to the lost
Who speak in earnest for the people
Thanks.
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Posted: Tue Dec 13, 2005 4:08 pm
thank you for anyone who has ever helped some one they didn't know, even thou they did not expect anything in return... thank you for people who are honest, and go out of their way to do what's right... those can be really hard things to do sometimes... but thank you... i wrote this poem a few years ago for a preschool class i helped in; it's about more than just what it apears to say. moster by becca there's a moster hiding under my bed
afraid to show his ugly head
and demons haunt my every dream
oh, they make me want to scream
and every night when the lights go out
i hear the creatures start to shout
for me to give in and not to fight
they say it's time
and if i was, any less strong
i would probably think they were right
but i know God (and my friends) is/are by my side
so i will never, ever hide i wrote that poem because it seemed that there were no people left that did what was right, but then i met christi and i learned that there were still alot of people out there to be thankful for.
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Posted: Mon Jun 12, 2006 8:10 pm
"Its not how big we are, the money in our pockets, or even the friends we have. It is what we do with our size, how we spend the money, and how close our friends really are that truly matters. Its not the number of girls you get, its the true test of finding the right one." - Deadwolf
"If a task once begun, never leave till its done, be a labor great or small, do it well or not at all." - A good friend who asked his name not be said
"What is better??? To follow a blind man, or a drunk??? I personally would decide to follow the blind man, for at least he is the only one who can see his problems." -Deadwolf
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Posted: Fri Jun 16, 2006 6:33 pm
THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME...
The Box...
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 . . .
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