RED MARBLES

I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily appraising 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 (the store owner) and the ragged boy next to me.

'Hello Barry, how are you today?'

'H'lo , Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas. They 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 ?' asked Mr.. Miller.

'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' said Miller..

'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 ?' the store owner asked.

'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' Mr. Miller told the boy.

'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, 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 those many 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 ... and your keys found right where you left them.

Don't be in way too much of a hurry to even notice the ordinary miracles when they occur.

IT'S NOT WHAT YOU GATHER, BUT WHAT YOU SCATTER THAT TELLS WHAT KIND OF LIFE YOU HAVE LIVED.

Are You...?

============

A few years ago a group of salesmen went to a regional sales
convention in Chicago. They had assured their wives that they
would be home in plenty of time for Friday night's dinner.

In their rush, with tickets and briefcases, one of these
salesmen inadvertently kicked over a table which held a display
of apples. Apples flew everywhere. Without stopping or
looking back, they all managed to reach the plane in time for
their nearly missed boarding. All but one.

He paused, took a deep breath, got in touch with his feelings,
and experienced a twinge of compassion for the girl whose apple
stand had been overturned. He told his buddies to go on without
him, waved goodbye, told one of them to call his wife when they
arrived at their home destination and explain his taking a later
flight. Then he returned to the terminal where the apples were
all over the terminal floor. He was glad he did.

The 16 year old girl was totally blind! She was softly crying,
tears running down her cheeks in frustration, and at the same
time helplessly groping for her spilled produce as the crowd
swirled about her, no one topping and no one to care for her
plight.

The salesman knelt on the floor with her, gathered up the
apples, put them back on the table and helped organize her
display.

As he did this, he noticed that many of them had become battered
and bruised; these he set aside in another basket.

When he had finished, he pulled out his wallet and said to the
girl, "Here, please take this $40 for the damage we did. Are
you okay?" She nodded through her tears. He continued on with,
"I hope we didn't spoil your day too badly." As the salesman
started to walk away, the bewildered blind girl called out to
him, "Mister". He paused and turned to look back into those
blind eyes. She continued, "Are you Jesus?"

He stopped in mid-stride, and he wondered. Then slowly he made
his way to catch the later flight with that question burning and
bouncing about in his soul: "Are you Jesus?"

Do people mistake you for Jesus? That's our destiny, is it not?
To be so much like Jesus that people cannot tell the difference
as we live and interact with a world (shopping, working,
reacting to others that are serving us) that is blind to His
love, life and grace.

If we claim to know Him, we should live, walk and act as He
would. Knowing Him is more than simply quoting Scripture and
going to church. It's actually living the Word as life unfolds
day to day.

You are the apple of His eye even though we, too, have been
bruised by a fall. He stopped what He was doing and picked you
and me up on a hill called Calvary and paid in full for our
damaged fruit.

Let us live like we are worth the price He paid.

~Author Unknown~