The Red Marbles

Everyone leaves a legacy, but not every legacy is worth receiving. A former Idaho resident tells us this beautiful story and demonstrates the value of a life well lived :

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 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 (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. 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 ?' 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.



Conclusion: At the end, people will not remember our words but our good deeds ... Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that make us catch our breath...
Today I wish you a day filled with these little pleasures - Fresh coffee you did not prepare yourself ... A phone call from an old friend ... The green lights on your way to get to work ... The fastest line at the grocery store ... A good song on the radio ... Your keys found in the same place that you have left.

Exonerating, Forgiveness and Letting go...

A small text, that I took at a friend so, thank you friend. I have done the translation for you, this could be better but I did my best. Your corrections are very welcome.

"Exonerating, Forgiveness and Letting go..."

• Exonerate : To Feel guilty is not only clinging to the past, but also hang in this because of a past event. And this blockage can range from minor discomfort to depression.

• Two main reasons for guilt : This feeling can be inculcate in early childhood and persist into adulthood. The adult can blame itself because it violates the values that he claims to endorse.
In all cases, guilt arises from the consciousness of having transgressed the moral codes or social.

It has many consequences: unconsciously punish themselves, reduces our self-confidence, undermines success, love, etc... Hence the importance of get rid of it.

• Forgiveness : Living with others can cause all sorts of injuries resulting frustrations, disappointments, troubles, sorrows, heartaches, betrayals, etc...
Others means the persons (family, husband's family, friends, neighbors, boss, colleagues, etc.. ...) and also institutions (medical system, religion, government, tax, etc ....)
There are so many opportunities to blame someone and develop a grudge, but this grudge is an emotional link, stonger than steel, that strongly ties you to that person.

When you do not forgive, you live in resentment, you cling yourself to the past, to the revenge ... It is a waste of time and energy in useless ruminations on the past.

Living in sorrow requires a lot of energy and maintains a constant stress.

Resentment can also create an attitude of paranoid defense that can attract attacks rightly feared. It is responsible for many psychosomatic diseases.

Refusing to forgive is now tarnishing your present with the unnecessary rancor and prevents you to live happily.

As for revenge, the satisfaction that you could get from it is very short. And it does not offset the damage that could occur in your relationships. Not only revenge triggers vicious circle of violence, but in addition it does nothing to heal the wounds of the injured, on the contrary, it exacerbates it.

→ Forgiveness (Forgiveness (including self-forgiveness), is "cure" is lighten, is set you free.

• Letting go : The day where we completely let go that might offend us, the day where we are no more "offensive", where we accept all the energies that we are reflected or sent, we do not even have to forgive.

The river of life can then flow freely
without obstacles ...

Source: http://patrick.leger24.free.fr/page/pardonner.html

Ahimsa!

« Whereas a good deed should call forth approbation and a wicked deed disapprobation, the doer of the deed, whether good or wicked always deserves respect or pity as the case may be. "Hate the sin and not the sinner" is a precept which, though easy enough to understand, is rarely practised, and that is why the poison of hatred spreads in the world. This ahimsa is the basis of the search for truth. I am realizing every day that the search is vain unless it is founded on ahimsa as the basis. It is quite proper to resist and attack a system, but to resist and attack its author is tantamount to resisting and attacking oneself. For we are all tarred with the same brush, and are children of one and the same Creator, and as such the divine powers within us are infinite. To slight a single human being is to slight those divine powers, and thus to harm not only that being but with him the whole world. »

— Retrieved from The Story of My Experiments with Truth/Part IV/A Tussle with Power , written by Mohandas K. Gandhi