An E-Mail from one of our BOC Sisters!

Discussion in 'Prayer Request' started by chambers bd, Sep 19, 2008.

  1. chambers bd

    chambers bd New Member

    Subject: RED MARBLES
    Date: Thu, 18 Sep 2008 16:58:05 -0400


    I was at the corner grocery store buying some early

    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 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

    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

    Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous

    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

    '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
    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.

    Send this to the people you'll never forget.

    I just Did...

    If you don't send it to anyone, it means you are 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!

    These words are provided by Altamah Terri, Thank you!:big_smile:

    Greg and Terri are two great folks.
    They are like all the BOC Brothers and Sisters!
    Kind hearted and great friends.

  2. bnewsom71

    bnewsom71 New Member

    Great read! Thanks for posting!

  3. thegavel

    thegavel New Member

    West Des Moines, Iowa
    Thanks for sharing that, I have read it before, but it still gives me chills every time....
  4. tiny b

    tiny b Active Member

    Thanks for sharing. I'll never forget that story. Made my day!