The Pea story
While I was at the grocery store......
Mrs. Miller was bagging some 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 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 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 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.
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.
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 right where you left them. |
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