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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 so bad that year 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 theBible. So 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 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 the big 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. When 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, then he turned to me and
said, "Matt, go bring enough in to last for 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, 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 and so
much gratitude in her heart that she couldn't speak. My heart swelled
within me and a joy filled my soul that I'd never known before. 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 himself
has sent you. The children and I have been praying that he would send one
of his
children 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, save One.
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 older brothers and two older sisters
were 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. So, 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. Just then 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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