Sunday, October 27, 2002
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Sunday, October 27, 2002 |
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Things that really matter By REV. DR. KNOX
HERNDON Gary Stewart is a dear friend who is serving our country as a civil servant here in the Atlanta area. He is also God's servant. He sent me this e-mail. Thank you, Gary. "During the waning years of the depression in a small southeastern Idaho community, I used to stop by Mr. Miller's 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 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 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 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 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. "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 breath." Author unknown. Each morning, I as a pastor put my feet on the floor, pause and say these words: "This is the day they Lord has made I will rejoice and be glad in it." I then add, "Father help me to be salt and light to someone today in the name of Jesus!" Try it. It will set your whole day in a different compass heading. The Rev. Dr. Knox Herndon is pastor of His House Community Church (SBC). The Rev. Greg Mausz is senior associate pastor. The Rev. Dr. Lydia Herndon is the Sunday School superintendent, Bible study coordinator and teacher. The church is just below Fayetteville, on Ga. Highway 85, a mile south of Ga. Highway 16, just below the fire station. Visitors welcome. Church office and prayer line 770-719-2365; e-mail KHERN2365@aol.com. The church's new Web site is www.hishousecommunitychurch.com.
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