A little Christmas Story.

This is
what Christmas is all about...



Better bundle up - the goose bumps will freeze you!! I think I need
to read this every year at Christmas.

"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 though, 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 tonight." I was really upset then. Not only 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 Jensens, 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."