A sentimental story that touches most of us---and why it touches us

The following story was forwarded to me by my friend Sam Swan. As far as I can tell, the story originated with the Act Biggy website and Facebook page. They do a mostly-good-news project with some gossip thrown in besides. This story is sentimental, and I think that it touches many of us because it is so well written that we can see the story progress as if we're watching an old black and white movie. Who doesn't want to root for a poor rural kid and a small-town businessperson who has good values? I think that we also like the magic of people doing the right thing because we don't always see that in our daily lives, though people do the right thing more often than not. We're at a moment where it feels as if that balance is changing, or might change. And perhaps we are also at a moment when many people are digging in on doing the right thing in response to that balance changing and that new kinds of radical humanism and theologies are meeting and have the potential to travel the same path, at least until conditions change for the better.

I bet that there are people in your community living out the values told about here. Find them and celebrate them if you can. 

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. 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.

It’s not what you gather, but what you scatter that tells what kind of life you have lived. - Helen Walton

Rabbi Sari Laufer: Sharing the Miracle of Jewish Joy

Rabbi Sari Laufer has an especially strong teaching on Hanukkah and Jewish joy at ReformJudaism.org. The following paragraphs from that teaching essay stand out for me:

The rabbis understand the obligation of lighting the hanukkiyah to be twofold. We are enjoined to bring light into our lives, to celebrate the miracle that happened in these days, at that time. We light the candles for all reasons that we may have learned as children - because the Maccabees defeated the Greeks, because the oil lasted for eight days, because we need light in the darkest seasons. But even more than our own celebration, we are meant to publicize the miracle - to tell the world our story, our survival, and our strength. Placed in the window, the hanukkiyah is more than a candelabra. It is a statement of identity, a reminder to ourselves and to the world that we are still here, still strong, and still celebrating.

To light the lights of Hanukkah is, whether we think of it that way or not, an act and a statement of faith and of hope. To light the lights of Hanukkah is to tell the world that we refuse to sit in the darkness. It is to share the miracle - not of the Maccabees or the oil - but of Jewish life and, more importantly, Jewish joy in 2022.

Please read the entire teaching essay here.

Some thoughts to warm you and some ideas to study on

Beth Allison has been catching lots of grief for this post. Her book The Making of Biblical Womanhood: How the Subjugation of Women Became Gospel Truth ( Brazos Press, 2021

should be standard reading and discussion material for all of us.

This is from Judi Tarowsky, who writes "On the U.S.S. Arizona in January 2020. This allows visitors to look down onto the ship. When a ship survivor dies, if he wishes, his ashes are interred in a special place on the ship. Divers access it through this opening, with full Navy ceremonies. It is a deeply emotional and spiritual place to visit. The memorial wall with the names about did me in."

This post came to me by way of Sam Swan and has the following story with it;

A son took his father to a restaurant to enjoy a delicious dinner. His father is quite old

and therefore ,a little weak too. While eating, food occasionally fell on his shirt and pants.

The other guests watched the old man with their faces contorted in disgust, but his son

remained calm. After they both finished eating, the son quietly helped his father and took

him to the toilet. Cleaned food scraps from his crampled face and attempted to wash food

stains on his clothes, graciously combed his gray hair and finally put on his glasses.

As they left the restroom, a deep silence reigned in the restaurant. The son paid their bill 

but just before they leave, a man, also old, got up and ask the old man’s son , “Don’t you

think you left something here?”

The young man replied “I did not leave anything.”

Then the stranger said to him, ”You left a lesson here for every son and a hope for every

father.” The whole restaurant was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop!

One of the greatest honours that exist ,is being able to take care of those who have taken

care of us too. Our parents and all those elders who sacrificed their lives with all their time, money and effort for us, deserve our utmost respect.

Dolly Parton's "A Smoky Mountain Christmas"

You can now watch the full movie of Dolly Parton's "A Smoky Mountain Christmas" and donate to a good cause as well right here.

Something to smile on for today---and some things to think about

((You are the favor you made without asking for anything in return. The turn you respected. The trash you picked up when no one was watching. The smile you gave that baby in the supermarket line. The gossip you didn’t spread. That thing you pretended not to see so that someone could be comfortable. We are not what they say we are, we are the sun if what we do.)

Some posts to encourage us

These came from a variety of people on Facebook: Beautiful Kingdom Warriors, Ginger Posey, Carlotta Young, Kermit Meling, Perry Blankenship, and The Crazy Black Librarian. This is a pretty diverse group of folks who probably don't know one another and who may not think of themselves having much in common to start with. But these are some of the people and spaces I go to for good words most days. I hope that these posts encourage and enlighten you as much as they did me. Many thanks to these good people for helping us on our journey.

Goodness of God-Cece Winans Lyrics

Just click on the box where it says "Youtube" and it will work just fine.

 

"Lord, make me an instrument of your peace..."

 

"Just when things seem to be stuck in a downward spiral, a sudden updraft lifts us to a whole new direction. Just when it looks like hope has walked out the front door, in walks a fresh supply through the back door. "

 

"The Spirit is the master of the unexpected. Just when things seem to be stuck in a downward spiral, a sudden updraft lifts us to a whole new direction. Just when it looks like hope has walked out the front door, in walks a fresh supply through the back door. Change is the infinite number of small changes that takes us to different places, places we may not have found on our own. They give us renewed energy and fresh perspective. Love’s interventions are the timely blessings we have prayed for, but not expected until they surprise us with grace."---The Rt. Rev. Steven Charleston of the Native American/Indigenous Ministries of the Episcopal Church