| What Christmas Is All About |
Better bundle up - the goose bumps will freeze you!! One of my favorite
Christmas stories. I think I need to read this every year at Christmas. I
can't count the times I've read this one and I always cry.
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 and 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.
Christmas stories. I think I need to read this every year at Christmas. I
can't count the times I've read this one and I always cry.
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 and 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.
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