Great News from Johor Bahru

A Lovely Story Worth Sharing With You All.

A Lovely Story Worth Sharing With You All.

Give a Shout to your Freinds
jbblog.fastlinxs.com

So many choices

I felt this really had to be passed on.
To remind us of the good in people, which sometimes gets  lost in selfishness.

  A  lovely story worth sharing with you all Today…….

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. 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 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  traffic lights when you drive….

The  fastest line at the grocery store….
Your keys found  right where you left them.
Send this to the people  you’ll never forget. I just did…


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

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *