death and a wonderful story for those who read it, it is truly great
ok, i dont know how much this will affect those ppl who do read my journal, but when you know of someone who has died, and recently for me i know a friends mom who just died, it brings tears to your eyes. the person who died, i dont think was more then 55, 4 wonderful kids. the youngest was just gonna start high school this year. their mom died just last week in her sleep. she had breast cancer but on tuesday, the doctor told her it was almost gone. thursday night she went to bed and she never woke up. this lady was a warm and caring person, i really didnt know her that well, but everytime i saw her, no matter when it was, she always had a smile on her face. i know she will be greatly missed along with everyone who has passed from this earth. for those of you who know of ppl who have died, just read this story and i hope that something like that happened in their life too.
> >I used to stop by Mr. Miller's roadside stand for farm fresh produce as the
> >season made it available. Food and money were extremely scarce and
> >bartering was used extensively.
> > >
> > >One day Mr. Miller was bagging some early potatoes for me. I noticed a
> >small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily
> >appraising 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 and
> >the ragged boy next to me.
> > >
> > >"Hello Barry, how are you today?"
> > >
> > >"H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' 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?"
> > >
> > >"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."
> > >
> > >"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?"
> > >
> > >"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 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 the occasion to visit some old friends in that community and while I was there I 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 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
> >mentioned the story she had told me about the 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
> >the World."
> > >
> > >With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased
> >husband. Resting underneath were three exquisitely shined red marbles.
> > >
> > >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 ...
> >I used to stop by Mr. Miller's roadside stand for farm fresh produce as the
> >season made it available. Food and money were extremely scarce and
> >bartering was used extensively.
> > >
> > >One day Mr. Miller was bagging some early potatoes for me. I noticed a
> >small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily
> >appraising 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 and
> >the ragged boy next to me.
> > >
> > >"Hello Barry, how are you today?"
> > >
> > >"H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' 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?"
> > >
> > >"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."
> > >
> > >"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?"
> > >
> > >"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 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 the occasion to visit some old friends in that community and while I was there I 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 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
> >mentioned the story she had told me about the 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
> >the World."
> > >
> > >With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased
> >husband. Resting underneath were three exquisitely shined red marbles.
> > >
> > >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 ...