Red Marbles. Matot Masaey Numbers 30

My Cousin Yizhak sent me this today. Also it is Matot Masaey Numbers 30 Bamidbar 30 What I read on my Bar Mizva as it is my Birthday on the 22nd of July, 25th of Tamuz.
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 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 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.

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!