Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me.
With a smile 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, when they come on their next trip to the store."
I left the store 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 for marbles.
Several years went by, each more rapid than 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 visitation 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 reminded
her of the story from thosemany years ago and what she had told me
about her husband's bartering for 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.
The Moral : We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind
deeds.
Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that
take our breath.
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 found right where you left them.
09/02/2007
