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Date Posted: 21:24:06 12/10/02 Tue
Author: Ralph
Subject: A Christmas Story of Days Past

A CHRISTMAS STORY
by Rian B. Anderson

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 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," 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 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
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
over 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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