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
abigger 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 alright... 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.
Don't be too busy today... share this inspiring message. Merry Christmas and God bless you!
