This is
what Christmas is all about...
Better bundle up - the goose ***** will freeze you!! I think I need
to read this every year at Christmas.
"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 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 ********, 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 ******** 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 ******** were wrapped in another and
were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that ****** gave
off an