A story passed on.....
I was at the corner grocery store buying some potatoes...
I
noticed a small boy, ragged but clean, hungrily looking at a basket of freshly
picked green peas.
I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. Pondering the peas, I couldn't help
overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller (the store owner) and the boy
next to me.
'Hello Barry, how are you today?'
'Hi, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank you. Just admiring the peas. They sure look good.'
'They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?'
'Fine. Getting stronger.'
'Good. Anything I can help you with?'
'No, Sir. Just admiring the peas.'
'Would you like to take some home?' asked Mr. Miller.
'No, Sir. I have no way to pay.'
'Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?'
'All I got is my prize marble here.'
'Is that right? Let me see it', said Mr. Miller.
'Here…. She's a dandy.'
'I can see that. Hmm mmm, 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 exactly, 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 very
poor. 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 passed. I had occasion to visit
some friends back in that old town and while I was there learned that Mr.
Miller had died. They were having his visitation that evening and 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 had nice haircuts, were wearing suits...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 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 one at a time.
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,' 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.
***
It’s not what you gather, but what you scatter….
