Mr Miller

Babs Miller was bagging some early 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 like this at home?"

"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.

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
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.


Hello all....love and prayers, sis katie.