My father was a pastor/evangelist. We basically lived in church. My love for the Lord was exciting and alive! Through the years as I grew older and experienced many wounds from within the body of Christ, I became the proverbial ‘prodigal daughter.’ One day many years later when my Dad was visiting me, he took some change out of his pocket, and in the middle of it was a red marble. I remarked, “Dad, why do you have that red marble in your pocket?” He picked it up, held it up to the light, and at that point the red marble seem to glow. He answered, “I carry this red marble in my pocket as a reminder.” I replied, of what? He looked deep into my eyes and began to speak, “as a reminder of the last drop of blood that my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ shed for me on the cross. Here, I want you to have it, so you too will have a reminder of Calvary.”

I still remember how those words pricked my heart, for I was estranged from the Lord and not ready to surrender. Years later however I repented and came home to my Heavenly Father, and many years after that my Father went home to be with his Heavenly Father. At my Dad’s funeral people from everywhere were coming up to me carrying their red marbles, some were made into earrings, some into pendants, and some into tie tacks, some just mixed in their change. They all told the same story, your Father gave me this red marble and through it I gave my heart and life to Jesus Christ. A list was found in his records of all the red marbles he had bought and given away; it totaled 10,000. A crystal bowl sat by his casket full of red marbles and all were invited to take freely. As I said farewell to my earthly Father, my Heavenly Father spoke into my heart. He said, “Your Dad was not able to leave you an earthly inheritance, but what he left you money can’t buy. He left you an eternal inheritance. He left you the legacy of the Red Marble.”

So many people had stories to tell of my Dad and his Red Marbles. A few months after Dad’s death I received a letter from my niece, his granddaughter. She was in college and it read like this…”Here is a copy of a poem that I wrote about Granddaddy McDonald right after he died. I wrote this for English class. The teacher picked this to be published in a literary journal at the college. I thought you might want a copy.

RED MARBLES

Written by Faith McDonald

They were supposed to remind us to pray for him.

Don’t forget ol’grampa. Short talks say he loves you.

Finding one while looking for a lost jewel reminds you of your time.

Thousands had them, but none like mine.

Straight from the hands of the man who loved so much.

The distance between us caused us to forget.

He always expressed his love for me.

My sadness soon followed regret for lost contact.

“Pray for me” ended the call.

The hang up triggered memories we had.

Suddenly sickness came. Faster and faster.

The day arrived. The call came. He loved so much.

Beautiful sights, loved ones, and great health await.