I don't know the author of the following Inspiration.

And I'm very grateful to a friend who e-mailed it to me. 


 It's entitled

Perfect Story, Perfect Time...

During the waning years of the depression in a small 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 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. 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?"

"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 that 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


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


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  mentioned the story she had told me about the marbles.

With her eyes glistening, she took my hand and led me to the


"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.

If there is a moral to this story could it be that we will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds. And that Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath.

The author adds:

Today ... I wish you a day of ordinary miracles ...
......... A fresh pot of coffee you didn't make yourself
......... An unexpected phone call from an old friend
......... Green stoplights on your way to work
......... The fastest line at the grocery store
......... A good sing-along song on the radio
......... Your keys right where you left them

Concluding: They say it takes a minute to find a special person,
An hour to appreciate them, a day to love them,
But in an entire life, never to forget them.



Now, an excerpt from 'Unveiled Mysteries'

by Godfre Ray King

This Great Being says to us.

'Beloved Children of the One Mighty God.

Knowest thou not the Life thou art using is from the 'One Supreme Presence' ....Eternally Pure, Holy and Perfect?

If thou doest aught to mar the Beauty and Perfection of that One Life, thou cuttest thyself off from the Gifts of thy God. Thy Life is the Sacred Jewel of thy God's Love...the 'Source' of the Secrets of the Universe.

Thy God doth trust thee with His Own Heart's Light.

 Cherish It! Adore It!

Let It ever expand unto greater Light and greater Glory!

My Brother's Keeper-a Spiritual Philosophy

Thou art the keeper of God's Wealth.

See thou use It for Him only and know thou hast received the 'Light of Life' for whose use thou shalt give an accounting.

Life is a continuous Circle.....If thou dost create That which is like unto thy 'Source' and knoweth His Love and Peace within thee, if thou useth thy Powers of Creation to bless only, then as thou dost move around thy Circle of Existence, thou wilt know the Joy of Life and unto It shall be added Greater Joy.

If thou dost NOT create like thy 'Source',

 thine evil shall return unto thee with more of its kind.

Thou alone chooseth thy destiny and thou alone answereth to thy God for thy use of  'Life', thy Being. The Great Law no one can escape. Long have I proclaimed this Law of Life.

The Law of 'Thyself' thou art unto thyself, because thou canst always come unto thy God if thou desireth the Perfection of Life.'


Lois J Crawford



        Pathways            Edna W. Ballard