Red Marbles - Inspirational story

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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.""Here 'tis. She's a dandy.""I can see

that. Hmmmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you

have a red one like this at home?""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.""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, perhaps."I left the stand,

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. 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 viewing

that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them.

Upon our 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 - very professional looking. They

approached Mrs. Miller, standing smiling and composed, 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 mentioned the story she had told me about the marbles. 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 her

husband's lifeless fingers. Resting underneath were three exquisitely shined,

red marbles!

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