The Value of a Prized Marble


It's been an unusual week here at Northside.  We've had five funerals in seven days.  
All were members or close relatives of members.  There has been much sorrow over 
relationships interrupted…and rejoicing in the knowledge that those relationships will 
one day be renewed in a place without interruption.

There have also been a lot of reminiscences – joy in recalling the good times, 
appreciation for loving support in the bad times, recollections reflecting how the lives of 
others were impacted by a life now gone.  As we heard from so many loved ones whose 
lives had been touched by one who is now gone, I could not help but recall a story that 
has been on my desk for several years, a story kept before me as a reminder that every 
word and every action has a result, often a very lasting result.  

The story tells of a small Texas roadside produce stand.  It is placed during the 
depression when food and money were extremely scarce and bartering was 
commonplace.

It seems that Jimmy, a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, was 
hungrily apprising a basket of freshly picked green peas at Mr. Miller's produce stand.

"Hello Jimmy, how are you today?"
"H'lo, Mr. Miller.  Fine, thank ya.  Jus' admirin' them peas, they sure look 
good."
"They are good, Jimmy.  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 got to trade me for some of the peas?"
"All I got's my prize marble here."
"Is that right?  Let me see it."
"Here it is.  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."

As the small boy walked away, another customer, a more sophisticated adult, inquired 
about the transaction.  Mrs. Miller, having also witnessed the exchange, explained.

"There are two other boys like him in our community.  All three are in very poor 
circumstances.  Bob, my husband, 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.  You see, this way he is able to 
help the family, while at the same time allowing the boys to maintain their dignity."

Years passed and word came that Mr. Miller, the produce stand owner, had passed 
away.  The sophisticated adult who had witnessed the produce-marble transaction 
years earlier remembered the kind, respectful generosity he had seen and decided to 
visit the funeral home and pay his respects to the family.

As the visitor entered the funeral home, ahead of him near the casket were three young 
men.  Two wore dark suits with white shirts and a nice tie.  One was in a military 
uniform.  Neat haircuts enhanced their professional appearance.  The three young men 
approached Mrs. Miller, hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly to her…and 
moved on to the casket.  At the casket, each stopped briefly and placed his own warm 
hand over the cold pale hand in the casket.  They left, awkwardly wiping their eyes.

As it came the visitor's turn to speak with Mrs. Miller, he introduced himself as the man 
who years before had witnessed the unique marble transaction.  Eyes glistening, Mrs. 
Miller took his hand and led him to the casket.  "Those three young men who just left 
were the boys you saw that day.  They just told me how much they appreciated the 
things my husband "traded" them.  Now, at last, when my Bob could not change his 
mind about the color of marble he wanted, they came to pay their debt.  We've never 
had a great deal of the world's wealth," she confided, "but right now, Bob would 
consider himself the richest man in Texas."  With loving gentleness, she lifted the 
lifeless fingers of her dear deceased husband.  Resting underneath were three, 
magnificently shiny, red marbles.



People may forget what you said;
People rarely forget how it made them feel.