Red Marbles
The Four Noble Truths
If Dogs Were Teachers
Wrong Number ?
Red Marbles
During the waning years of the depression in a small southeastern Idaho community, I used to stop by Mr. Miller's roadside stand for farm-fresh produce as the season made it available. Food and money were still extremely scarce and bartering was used, extensively. One particular day Mr. Miller was bagging some early potatoes for me. 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 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. 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." 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 to Colorado 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 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 viewing that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them. Upon our 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 ... very professional looking. They approached Mrs. Miller, standing smiling and composed, 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. 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 Four Noble Truths
Submitted by Bill Kohlmeyer 1. SHOW UP and choose to be present to all that life offers. Be a good model--by walking your talk. 2. PAY ATTENTION to what has heart and meaning for you and resonates within your soul. 3. TELL THE TRUTH without blame or judgment. Say what you mean and mean what you say. (indigenous peoples call this 'speaking with spirit-tongue') or KEEP NOBLE SILENCE. From an empowered position, choose to remain silent. 4. STAY OPEN, BUT NOT ATTACHED, TO THE OUTCOME. Deeply care, from an objective place. Break old patterns. Practice discernment. If we did nothing else but adopt and live these four wonderful truths, our spirits would soar to new heights and our relationships would be healthy and holy. Remembering that the bottom line needs to be drawn with love, we can choose to speak with spirit-tongue or in noble silence. From the book, "The Woman's Book of Spirit" by Sue Patton ThoeleIf Dogs Were Teachers
If dogs were teachers, you would learn stuff like: When a loved one comes home, always run to greet them. Never pass up the opportunity to go for a joyride. Allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face to be pure ecstasy. When it's in your best interest, practice obedience. Let others know when they've invaded your territory. Take naps. Stretch before rising. Run, romp and play daily. Thrive on attention and let people touch you. Avoid biting when a simple growl will do. On warm days, stop to lie on your back on the grass. On hot days, drink lots of water and lie under a shady tree. When you're happy, dance around and wag your entire body. No matter how often you're scolded, don't buy into the guilt thing and pout -- run right back and make friends. Delight in the simple joy of a long walk. Eat with gusto and enthusiasm. Stop when you have had enough. Be loyal. Never pretend to be something you're not. When someone is having a bad day, be silent, sit close by and nuzzle them gently.Wrong Number?
When Carol Coutant answered the phone, she quickly realized the caller had the wrong number. She also realized he was in big trouble. "I just wanted to talk to you before I die," he said. "I took all the pills. I just want to say good-bye to you." "Who are you looking for?" He thanked her for her cards and e-mails. She decided she'd better keep him talking. "Is this Ted?" "No! It's Tim." He was only 40 but his diabetes and his arthritis were too much to bear. His ex-fiancee had certainly thought so. "I'm sorry for everything," he said. His voice was slurred. She didn't want to hang up on him, but she felt she had to get help. Her caller ID just listed him as "out of the area." "Did you get my letter?" she asked. "I sent it where you told me." He said he hadn't. She pressed him for his address "Just to check," and he gave it to her. Unfortunately, his mailing address was a post office box. But she at least had a town: Rocky Mount, North Carolina. Carol was talking on a cordless phone, and she made a desperate decision. She took it and went outside, walking as fast as she could to the local police station. Unbelievably, the connection held. Once there, she explained what was happening. The police officer called the Rocky Mount sheriff, who called the local post office, who got the street address of the holder of the post office box. A paramedic crew was dispensed. Carol went back home, fighting to keep the fading stranger talking. She heard the paramedics arrive at his house. They pounded on the door. Of course, the caller was in no shape to let them in. "Do we have permission to knock the door down?" the 911 operator asked Carol. "I'm in New York," she started to say but remembered the stakes. "Sure," she said. And over the phone, she heard them barge in. The man was rushed to the hospital in a nick of time. And last week, he drove 1,000 miles to say "thank-you" in person to the stranger who saved his life.
