Christmas Remembered - Repost

Pa never had much compassion for the lazy or
those who squandered their means and then
never had enough for the necessities.  But for
those who were genuinely in need, his heart
was as big as all outdoors. It was from him
that I learned the greatest joy in life
comes from giving, not from receiving........
....It was Christmas Eve 1881. I was fifteen
years old and feeling like the world had
caved in on me because there just hadn't
been enough money to buy me the rifle
that I'd wanted for Christmas. We did
the chores early that night for some reason.
I just figured Pa wanted a little extra time
so we could read in the Bible.

After supper was over I took my boots off
and stretched out in front of the fireplace
and waited for Pa to get down the old Bible.
I was still feeling sorry for myself and, to be
honest, I wasn't in much of a mood to read

Scriptures. But Pa didn't get the Bible,
instead he bundled up again and went outside.
I couldn't figure it out because we had already
done all the chores. I didn't worry about it long t

hough, I was too busy wallowing in self-pity.
Soon Pa came back in.  It was a cold clear night
out and there was ice in his beard. "Come on,
Matt," he said. "Bundle up good, it's cold out
wasn't I getting the rifle for Christmas,
now Pa was dragging me out in the cold,
and for no earthly reason that I could see.
We'd already done all the chores, and I couldn't
think of anything else that needed doing,
especially not on a night like this. But I
knew Pa was not very patient at one dragging
one's feet when he'd told them to do something,
so I got up and put my boots back on and got
my cap, coat, and mittens. Ma gave me a
mysterious smile as I opened the door to
leave the house. Something was up, but
I didn't know what..
Outside, I became even more dismayed.
There in front of the house was the work team,
already hitched to the big sled. Whatever
it was we were going to do wasn't going
to be a short, quick, little job.  I could tell.
We never hitched up this sled unless we
were going to haul a big load. Pa was
already up on the seat, reins in hand. I
reluctantly climbed up beside him.
The cold was already biting at me.
I wasn't happy.  When I was on, Pa
pulled the sled around the house
and stopped in front of the woodshed.
He got off and I followed. "I think we'll
put on the high sideboards," he  said.
"Here, help me."
The high sideboards! It had been a
bigger job than I wanted to do with
just the low sideboards on, but
whatever it was we were going to do
would be a lot bigger with the high
side boards on. After we had
exchanged the sideboards,
Pa went into the woodshed
and came out with an armload of
wood - the wood I'd spent all
summer hauling down from the
mountain, and then all Fall sawing
into blocks and splitting.

What was he doing?  Finally I said
something.  "Pa," I asked, "what
are you doing?" You been by the
Widow Jensen's lately?" he asked.
The Widow Jensen lived about two
miles down the road.  Her husband
had died a year or so before and
left her with three children, the oldest
being eight.  Sure, I'd been by,
but so what? Yeah," I said, "Why?"
"I rode by just today," Pa said.
"Little Jakey was out digging around
in the woodpile trying to find a few chips.
They're out of wood, Matt." That was all
he said and then he turned and went
back into the woodshed for another
armload of wood. I followed him. We
loaded the sled so high that I began
to wonder if the horses would be able
to pull it.  Finally, Pa called a halt to
our loading, then we went to the smoke
house and Pa took down a big ham
and a side of bacon. He handed them
to me and told me to put them in the
sled and wait.  When he returned he
was carrying a sack of flour over his
right shoulder and a smaller sack of
something in his left hand. "What's in the
little sack?" I asked.  Shoes, they're
out of shoes. Little Jakey just had
gunny sacks wrapped around his
feet when he was out in the woodpile
this morning.  I got the children a little
candy too.  It just wouldn't be Christmas
without a  little candy."

We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen's
pretty much in silence. I tried to think through
what Pa was doing. We didn't have much by
worldly standards. Of course, we did have
a big woodpile, though most of what was
left now was still in the form of logs that
I would have to saw into blocks and split
before we could use it. We also had meat
and flour, so we could spare that, but I
knew we didn't have any money, so why
was Pa buying them shoes and candy?
Really, why was he doing any of this?
Widow Jensen had closer neighbors
than us; it shouldn't have been our concern.
We came in from the blind side of the Jensen
house and unloaded the wood as quietly as

possible, then we took the meat and
flour and shoes to the door.  We knocked.
The door opened a crack and a timid voice
said, "Who is it?"  "Lucas Miles, Ma'am,
and my son, Matt, could we come in for a
bit?"....... Widow Jensen opened the door
and let us in.
She had a blanket wrapped around her
shoulders. The children were wrapped
in another and were sitting in front of
the fireplace by a very small fire that
hardly gave off any heat at all. Widow
Jensen fumbled with a match and finally
lit the lamp.

"We brought you a few things, Ma'am,"
Pa said and set down the sack of flour.
I put the meat on the table. Then Pa
handed her the sack that had the shoes
in it. She opened it hesitantly and took
the shoes out one pair at a time. There
was a pair for her and one for each of the
children - sturdy shoes, the best, shoes
that would last. I watched her carefully.

She bit her lower lip to keep it from
trembling and then tears filled her
eyes and started running down her
cheeks.  She looked up at Pa like she
wanted to say something, but it
wouldn't come out. "We brought a
load of wood too, Ma'am," Pa said.
He turned to me and said, "Matt, go
bring in enough to last awhile. Let's
get that fire up to size and heat this
place up." I wasn't the same person
when I went back out to bring in the
wood. I had a big lump in my throat
and as much as I hate to admit it,
there were tears in my eyes too. In
my mind I kept seeing those three
kids huddled around the fireplace and
their mother standing there with tears
running down her cheeks with so much
gratitude in her heart that she couldn't
speak. My heart swelled within me and
a joy that I'd never known before, filled
my soul. I had given at Christmas many
times before, but never when it had
made so much difference. I could see
we were literally saving the lives of
these people.

I soon had the fire blazing and everyone's
spirits soared.  The kids started giggling
when Pa handed them each a piece of
candy and Widow Jensen looked on with
a smile that probably hadn't crossed her
face for a long  time. She finally turned
to us. "God bless you," she said.
"I know the Lord has sent you. The
children and I have been praying that
he would send one of his angels to
spare us." In spite of myself, the lump
returned to my throat and the tears
welled up in my eyes again.  I'd never
thought of Pa in those exact terms before,
but after Widow Jensen mentioned it I
could see that it was probably true. I was
sure that a better man than Pa had
never walked the earth. I started
remembering all the times he had
gone out of his way for Ma and me,
and many others. The list seemed
endless as I thought on it.  Pa
insisted that everyone try on the
shoes before we left. I was amazed
when they all fit and I wondered
how he had known what sizes to get.
then I guessed that if he was on an
errand for the Lord that the Lord
would make sure he got the right sizes.

Tears were running down Widow
Jensen's face again when we stood
up to leave. Pa took each of the kids
in his big arms and gave them a hug.
They clung to him and didn't want us
to go.  I could see that they missed
their Pa, and I was glad that I still
had mine.
At the door Pa turned to Widow Jensen
and said, "The Mrs. wanted me to invite
you and the children over for Christmas
dinner tomorrow. The turkey will be more
than the three of us can eat, and a man
can get cantankerous if he has to eat
turkey for too many meals.  We'll be by
to get you about eleven.  It'll be nice to
have some little ones around again.
Matt, here, hasn't been little for quite
a spell."  I was the youngest.  My two
brothers and two sisters had all married
and had moved away. Widow Jensen
nodded and said, "Thank you, Brother
Miles.  I don't have to say, May the
Lord bless you, I know for certain
that He will."

Out on the sled I felt a warmth that
came from deep within and I didn't
even notice the cold. When we had
gone a ways, Pa turned to me and
said, "Matt, I want you to know
something. Your ma and me have
been tucking a little money away
here and there all year so we could
buy that rifle for you, but we didn't
have quite enough. Then yesterday
a man who owed me a little money
from years back came by to make
things square. Your ma and me
were real excited, thinking that
now we could get you that rifle,
and I started into town this morning
to do just that, but on the way I saw
little Jakey out scratching in the
woodpile with his feet wrapped in
those gunny sacks and I knew
what I had to do. Son, I spent the
money for shoes and a little candy
for those children. I hope you understand."

I understood, and my eyes became
wet with tears again.  I understood
very well, and I was so glad Pa had
done it. Now the rifle seemed very
low on my list of priorities. Pa had
given me a lot more.  He had given
me the look on Widow Jensen's face
and the radiant smiles of her
three children.

For the rest of my life, Whenever I
saw any of the Jensen's, or split a
block of wood, I remembered, and
remembering brought back that same
joy I felt riding home beside Pa that
night. Pa had given me much more
than a rifle that night, he had given
me the best Christmas of my life

God bless you!