During the waning years of the depression in a small Idaho
community,
I used to stop by Mr. Miller's roadside stand for
farm
fresh produce as the season
made it
available. Food and money were still extremely scarce
and
bartering was used extensively.
One day Mr. Miller was bagging some early potatoes for me. I
noticed
a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged
but clean,
hungrily apprising a basket of freshly picked green
peas. I
paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display
of fresh
green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and
new
potatoes. Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing
the
conversation between Mr. Miller and the ragged boy next
to me.
"Hello Barry, how are you
today?"
"H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas ...
sure
look good."
"They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?"
"Fine. Gittin' stronger alla' time."
"Good. Anything I can help you with?"
"No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas."
"Would you like to take some home?"
"No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with."
"Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?"
"All I got's my prize marble here."
"Is that right? Let me see it."
"Here 'tis. She's a dandy."
"I can see that. Hmmmmm, only thing is this one is blue
and I
sort of go for red.
Do you have a
red one like this at home?"
"Not zackley ... but almost."
"Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next
trip
this way let me look at that red marble."
"Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller."
Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help
me. With
a smile she said, "There are two other boys like him
in our
community, all three are in very poor circumstances.
Jim just
loves to bargain with them for peas, apples,
tomatoes,
or whatever. When they come back with their red
marbles,
and they always do,
he
decides he doesn't like red after all and he sends them
home
with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange
one,
perhaps."
I left the
stand smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A
short
time later I moved to Colorado but I never forgot the
story of
this man, the boys, and their bartering.
Several years went by, each
more rapid that the previous
one.
Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in
that
Idaho community and while I was there learned that Mr.
Miller
had died. They were having his viewing that evening
and
knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany
them.
Upon arrival at the mortuary
we fell into line to meet the
relatives
of the deceased and to offer whatever words of
comfort
we could. Ahead of us in line were three young men.
One was
in an army uniform and the other two wore nice
haircuts,
dark suits and white shirts ... all very professional
looking.
They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and smiling
by her
husband's casket. Each of the young men hugged her,
kissed
her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on
to the
casket. Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one
by one,
each young man stopped briefly and placed his own
warm
hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left
the
mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes.
Our turn came to meet Mrs.
Miller. I told her who I was
and
mentioned the story she had told me about the marbles.
With her eyes
glistening, she took my hand and led me to the
casket.
"Those three young men who just left were the boys I told
you
about. They just told me how they appreciated the things
Jim
"traded" them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change
his mind
about color or size ... they came to pay their debt."
"We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world,"
she
confided, "but right now, Jim would consider himself the
richest
man in Idaho."
With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of
her
deceased husband. Resting underneath were three
exquisitely
shined red marbles.
If there is a moral to this story could it be that we will not be remembered
by our words, but by our kind deeds. And that Life is not measured by the
breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath.
The author
adds:
Today ... I
wish you a day of ordinary miracles ...
......... A fresh pot of coffee you didn't make yourself
......... An unexpected phone call from an old friend
......... Green stoplights on your way to work
......... The fastest line at the grocery store
......... A good sing-along song on the radio
......... Your keys right where you left them
Concluding: They say it takes a minute to find a special person,
An hour to appreciate them, a day to love them,
But in an entire life, never to forget them.
Amen!
Now, an excerpt from 'Unveiled Mysteries'
by
Godfre Ray King
This Great Being says
to us.
'Beloved Children of the
One Mighty God.
Knowest thou not the
Life thou art using is from the 'One Supreme Presence' ....Eternally Pure,
Holy and Perfect?
If thou doest aught to
mar the Beauty and Perfection of that One Life, thou cuttest thyself off
from the Gifts of thy God. Thy Life is the Sacred Jewel of thy God's
Love...the 'Source' of the Secrets of the Universe.
Thy God doth trust thee
with His Own Heart's Light.
Cherish It! Adore It!
Let It ever expand unto
greater Light and greater Glory!
My Brother's Keeper-a Spiritual Philosophy
Thou art the keeper of
God's Wealth.
See thou use It for Him
only and know thou hast received the 'Light of Life' for whose use thou
shalt give an accounting.
Life is a continuous
Circle.....If thou dost create That which is like unto thy 'Source' and knoweth His Love and Peace within thee, if thou useth thy Powers of Creation
to bless only, then as thou dost move around thy Circle of Existence, thou
wilt know the Joy of Life and unto It shall be added Greater Joy.
If thou dost NOT create
like thy 'Source',
thine evil shall return
unto thee with more of its kind.
Thou alone chooseth thy
destiny and thou alone answereth to thy God for thy use of 'Life', thy
Being. The Great Law no one can escape. Long have I proclaimed this Law of
Life.
The Law of 'Thyself'
thou art unto thyself, because thou canst always come unto thy God if thou
desireth the Perfection of Life.'