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The home of Scouting in Central
and Northern New York
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Scoutmasters
Minutes |
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submitted by: Ted Holz
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The Power of Friendship |
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One day, when I was a freshman in
high school, I saw a kid from my class was walking home from school.
His name was Kyle. It looked like he was carrying all of his books.
I thought to myself, "Why would anyone bring home all his books
on a Friday? He must really be a nerd."
I had quite a weekend planned (parties and a football game with
my
friends tomorrow afternoon), so I shrugged my shoulders and went
on. As I was walking, I saw a bunch of kids running toward him.
They ran at him, knocking all his books out of his arms and tripping
him so he landed in the dirt. His glasses went flying, and I saw
them land in the grass about ten feet from him. He looked up and
I saw this terrible sadness in his eyes.
My heart went out to him. So, I jogged over to him and as he crawled
around looking for his glasses, and I saw a tear in his eye. As
I handed him his glasses, I said, "Those guys are jerks. They
really should get lives." He looked at me and said, "Hey
thanks!" There was a big smile on his face. It was one of those
smiles that showed real gratitude.
I helped him pick up his books, and asked him where he lived. As
it turned out, he lived near me, so I asked him why I had never
seen him before. He said he had gone to private school before now.
I would have never hung out with a private school kid before. We
talked all the way home, and I carried his books. He turned out
to be a pretty cool kid.
I asked him if he wanted to play football on Saturday with me and
my friends. He said yes. We hung all weekend and the more I got
to know Kyle, the more I liked him, and my friends thought the same
of him. Monday morning came, and there was Kyle with the huge stack
of books again. I stopped him and said, "Boy, you are gonna
really build some serious muscles with this pile of books everyday!"
He just laughed and handed me half the books. Over the next four
years, Kyle and I became best friends.
When we were seniors, we began to think about college. Kyle decided
on Georgetown, and I was going to Duke. I knew that we would always
be friends, that the miles would never be a problem. He was going
to be a doctor, and I was going for business on a football scholarship.
Kyle was valedictorian of our class. I teased him all the time about
being a nerd. He had to prepare a speech for graduation. I was so
glad it wasn't me having to get up there and speak.
Graduation day, I saw Kyle. He looked great. He was one of those
guys that really found himself during high school. He filled out
and actually looked good in glasses. He had more dates than I had
and all the girls loved him. Boy, sometimes I was jealous. Today
was one of those days. I could see that he was nervous about his
speech. So, I smacked him on the back and said, "Hey, big guy,
you'll be great!" He looked at me with one of those looks (the
really grateful one) and smiled. "Thanks," he said.
As he started his speech, he cleared his throat, and began. "Graduation
is a time to thank those who helped you make it through those tough
years. Your parents, your teachers, your siblings, maybe a coach...but
mostly your friends. I am here to tell all of you that being a friend
to someone is the best gift you can give them. I am going to tell
you a story."
I just looked at my friend with disbelief as he told the story of
the first day we met. He had planned to kill himself over the weekend.
He talked of how he had cleaned out his locker so his Mom wouldn't
have to do it later and was carrying his stuff home. He looked hard
at me and gave me a little smile. "Thankfully, I was saved.
My friend saved me from doing the unspeakable." I heard the
gasp go through the crowd as this handsome, popular boy told us
all about his weakest moment. I saw his mom and dad looking at me
and smiling that same grateful smile. Not until that moment did
I realize it's depth.
Never underestimate the power of your actions. With one small gesture
you can change a person's life. For better or for worse. |
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