We hear stories every day about people making a difference in a quiet and unassuming way. Those are every-day heroes… demonstrating care and compassion, not expecting anything in return.
We can all make a difference, even in the smallest ways. We simply need to notice opportunities put in front of us, no matter how small, and accept every chance we have to do something good.
For those who have this inherent awareness and desire, living their values is an important part of who they are, and this story is a beautiful example of that.
Some years ago I was at a corner grocery store in rural Idaho buying some 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 this boy.
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. 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?” 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.
Years went by, until I recently visited some old friends in that Idaho community. Upon arrival, I learned that Mr. Miller had died and they were having his visitation that evening. Knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them. When we got to the mortuary we joined the line to meet the relatives of the deceased and 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, 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 same boys I told you about” she said.
“They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim ‘traded’ them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about colour or size….they had come to pay their debt.”
‘We’ve never had a great deal of the wealth in 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.
Not sure what the source of the story is, I received it via WhatsApp from my mum 🙂 – not even sure its true at all, but didn’t matter to me; the message is awesome and I thought it was worth sharing.