Hello all. thought this was really appropriate for
the MOL forum, because there are so many here who give of their hearts and love
to the ones that need it. Take care.
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 before 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. 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," hesaid. "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 thehouse.
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 a while. 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
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 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.
