Sunday, July 12, 2015

The Counterfeiter

In his job, Harold was a prominent accountant, but it was on the weekends he did his best work.

For Harold was a counterfeiter, his work a near perfect match for any nation's currency. And never did he profit by that work.

Instead, he used the money to help those in need.

If a food bank or homeless shelter needed money to buy food, Harold donated it. If a school or a youth center lacked books or anyother essentials, the money would arrive.

If someone in need lacked the money to repair his car to get to work, the money mysteriously appeared, as did the money to build and maintain parks.

But one day a determined tax official claimed Harold didn't earn the money to be so generous. After an investigation, Harold was charged with counterfeiting.

"I'm not guilty of a crime," Harold calmly told the judge. "I'm just doing what the government does when it prints money to make massive amounts of weapons and fight continuous wars.

"The difference is the money I print goes to help others, not destroy them."

"The government is not on trial here, you are," said the judge. "And I find you guilty."

Harold was given a 2 year prison sentence, and while he was away, the whole community suffered for no-one offered a financial helping hand on a grand scale as Harold had.

People went hungry, others lost their jobs for lack of transportation, schools and youth centers got run down, and new books were scarce. Park landscaping died and their bathrooms became filthy.

The pain was felt everywhere.

Yet when Harold got out of prison, government officials told him he had been a bad influence on the community and he should move elsewhere.

Reluctantly Harold did, moving 500 miles away.

Then about three months after Harold resettled, some incredible things began to happen in his new community.

Suddenly food banks and homeless shelters, schools and youth centers had far more resources to serve their communities, old transportation cars starting getting repaired and new landscaping and facilities appeared in old rundown parks.

No-one could account for so much prosperity but everyone was deeply grateful for all of this anonymous money.

As for Harold, he was happy as can be, even as busy as he was each weekend.

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