It's What You Scatter.....,

 

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...  

 

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!

 

HAVE  A GREAT REST OF YOUR LIFE!!!!