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 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 (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 re d . 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 t he 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 of this Blog: 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 away.

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

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.

The Other Side of Town

On the other side of town

Where the privileged reside

The homes are large and stately

And quite elegant inside

No matter what the season

The grass is never brown

For the world is so much greener

On the other side of town

On the other side of town

Across the railroad tracks

The only disadvantage

Is the higher rate of tax

Where the sun casts golden shadows

Before it eases down

And the stars resemble diamonds

On the other side of town

I visited the east side of Paragould today and met a young lady staying at the mission outreach who's story makes me stop and thank God for the privilege of having a home. A place that I can lay my head, take a shower, lay on the couch, be myself, invite my friends and go when I have no place else.
Everyone has a story to tell of how life has treated them good and not so good. Most everyone has had bad things happen to them, but most have never been homeless. The lady I met today has written this poem I would like to share with those of you reading. She says it is only an expression of how she feels right now. She has been homeless for 2 years.

Homeless

No place to call my own, no where to have a home
I live in the streets, dirt and filth beneath my feet
Occasionally into the shelters I can stay
Where if I kiss their Asses they let me stay

I AM HOMELESS

There is no trust in the dark and dreary streets
For over my shoulder I am always looking
Ever afraid of what danger might be lurking
Just living is not an option for me, only survival is the key

I AM HOMELESS

Into the streets come the fakes and the phonies
Social, religious and do goodiers too, all shower me with false love
Forcing me to give in to all their causes
Never hearing or understanding my anguished pleas

I AM HOMELESS

Those who are in the know, say I don’t want to have a home
They say I like to roam and be free
That is not true, I do want a home and to be clean
To make a difference in a world so mean

I DO NOT WANT TO BE HOMELESS

But society is cruel, non-caring and elite
The world they have created, just can not be
Unless they make sure, they have people like me
In order to keep the world the way that it is, I cannot be freed

I MUST BE HOMELESS

Just food for thought. We have so much to be thankful for, and yet we are so stengy with our resources. Help those in need, lend a hand to the needy.