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 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 Jake 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
wood-shed 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 Jake 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 the 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?
The 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?" The Widow Jensen opened the door to 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. The 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 the
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 the
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 the 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 Jake 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 the 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.
My vote is to have Christmas traditions all year round. You see at
Christmas time most people at least the ones I have met, always change just a
little for the better around Christmas. I do not know whether or not it is the
great yuletide Christmas carols, the festive atmosphere everywhere you go, or just some
hidden part in all of us that screams out, (I BELIEVE IN MORE THAN WHAT I SEE AROUND ME.) You see, somewhere deep down inside we all
believe in something better than we now have or see, and most of
us feel a lot better when we help someone. Whether the person is
in need or not, this feeling is what I call the feeling of
Christmas, and we all should strive to feel this way all year long.
The feeling of the Christmas holidays is truly all about family, friends and celebrating all things good.
The Lord's birthday is swiftly coming
Christmas carols we're merrily humming,
Adoration and harmony spreads worldwide
As we eagerly await the happy Yuletide.
Enhance your Christmas, with Christmas poems
and stories highlighted with your favorite Christmas carols.
Christmas traditions are fast becoming a family way of life.
Poems are a simple way of inspiring others to join in on the Christmas
traditions that love and poems bring to this Christmas holiday.
We'll be thinking of you and yours on Christmas day
So I guess there's just one more thing to say,
May God bless you, your lifetime through,
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year too.
Christmas Traditions, Carols and Poems
