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THE BEST CHRISTMAS



A friend sent me the following and I felt I had
to share it with you:

John and Meshack

The Best 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 thank 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 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. 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 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
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 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 Jakey 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 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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