Graphic Intense.
Thank you
~*~
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.
It was the last week before Christmas
and I had to dash into town
to get last minute things.
It was on this particular day, Mr. Miller
was bagging some potatoes for me.
I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature,
ragged but clean,
hungrily apprising
a basket of green peas.
***
I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn
to the display of 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 aggie, best taw around 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 taw."
"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 Utah,
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,
I learned that Mr. Miller had just 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 got 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 had short haircuts,
wore dark suits and white shirts,
looking like potential salesmen or returned missionaries.
***
They approached Mrs. Miller,
standing smiling and looking 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,
and 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.
"This is an amazing coincidence," she said.
"Those three young men that 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 have considered himself
the richest man in Idaho."
With loving gentleness
she lifted the lifeless fingers
of her deceased husband.
Resting underneath
were three
magnificently shiny, red marbles.
***
After a while, you learn the subtle differences
between holding a hand
and chaining a soul;
and you learn
that love doesn't mean leaning
and company doesn't mean security;
and you begin to learn
that kisses aren't contracts
and presents aren't promises,
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes open,
with the grace of a woman,
not the grief of a child...
you plant your own garden
and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting
for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that
you really can endure,
that you really are strong,
and you really do have worth.
And you learn and learn.
***
With every good-bye you learn.
***
Author: Unknown
~*~
Christmas Carols
|
~*~
On the Feast of Stephen,
When the snow lay round about,
Deep and crisp and even;
Brightly shone the moon that night,
Tho' the frost was cruel,
When a poor man came in sight,
Gath'ring winter fuel.
***
"Hither, page, and stand by me,
If thou know'st it, telling,
Yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?"
"Sire, he lives a good league hence,
Underneath the mountain;
Right against the forest fence,
By Saint Agnes' fountain."
***
"Bring me flesh, and bring me wine,
Bring me pine logs hither:
Thou and I will see him dine,
When we bear them thither."
Page and monarch, forth they went,
Forth they went together;
Thro' the rude wind's wild lament
And the bitter weather.
***
"Sire, the night is darker now,
And the wind blows stronger;
Fails my heart, I know not how,
I can go no longer."
Mark my footsteps, good my page;
Tread thou in them boldly:
Thou shalt find the winter's rage
Freeze thy blood less coldly."
***
In his master's steps he trod,
Where the snow lay dinted;
Heat was in the very sod
Which the saint had printed.
Therefore, Christian men, be sure,
Wealth or rank possessing,
Ye who now will bless the poor,
Shall yourselves find blessing.
***
Author: Unknown
~*~
That glorious song of old
From angels bending near the earth
To touch their harps of gold
Peace on the earth, goodwill to men
From heav'n's all gracious king
The world in solemn stillness lay
To hear the angels sing.
Still through the cloven skies they come
With peaceful wings unfurl
And still their heavenly music floats
O'er all the weary world.
Above its sad and lowly plains
They bend on hovering wing
And ever o'er its Babel sounds
The blessed angels sing.
***
O ye, beneath life's crushing load
Whose forms are bending low
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow
Look now for glad and golden hours come
Swiftly on the wing
O rest beside the weary road
And hear the angels sing.
***
For lo the days are hastening on
By prophets seen of old
When with the ever circling years
Shall come the time foretold
When the new heaven and earth shall own
The prince of peace their King
And the whole world send back the song
Which now the angels sing.
***
Author: Unknown
~*~
Let nothing you dismay
Remember Christ our Savior
Was born on Christmas day
To save us all from Satan's power
When we were gone astray
Oh tidings of comfort and joy
Comfort and joy
Oh tidings of comfort and joy
***
From God our heavenly father
The blessed angels came
And unto certain shepherds
Brought tidings of the same
How Christ in Bethlehem was born
The son of God by name
***
Oh tidings of comfort and joy
Comfort and Joy
Oh tidings of comfort and joy
***
Author: Unknown
~*~
|
Busy sidewalks
Dressed in holiday style
In the air there's a feeling of Christmas
Children laughing
People passing
Meeting smile after smile
And on every street corner you hear:
***
Silver bells
Silver bells
It's Christmas time in the city
Ring-a-ling
Hear them ring
Soon it will be Christmas day
***
Strings of street lights
Even stop lights
Blink a bright red and green
As the shoppers rush home with their treasures
Hear the snow crunch
See the kids bunch
This is Santa's big scene
And above all this bustle you hear:
***
Silver bells
Silver bells
It's Christmas time in the city
Ring-a-ling
Hear them ring
Soon it will be Christmas day
***
Author: Unknown
~*~
from
My Dear Friends
Copyright 1998 AngelicArtistry
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