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[chinacat46]

AFTER ALL - ISN'T THIS WHAT CHRISTMAS IS ALL ABOUT??

Pa never had such 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
sideboards 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.

[Dejah]

Thank you for sharing, that is truly touching!

[drdiver]

Really fine, man, really fine.

[WreckWench]

Now THAT's the Christmas spirit!!! Thank you! kamala