IT'S WHAT YOU SCATTER THAT COUNTS

Posted in: NAP- Neighborhood Alliance of Pawtucket
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  • nap
  • Respected Neighbor
  • Pawtucket, RI
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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 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!
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  • nap
  • Respected Neighbor
  • Pawtucket, RI
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"If you live your life the right way, the karma will take care of itself ... your dreams will come to you." Randy Pausch
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  • nap
  • Respected Neighbor
  • Pawtucket, RI
  • 3152 Posts
  • Respect-O-Meter: Respected Neighbor

@ReikiArthur: Choices make ripples in our lives as things happen, but reactions chosen creates the difference between sorrows past + future joys. Namaste!

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