An Early Christmas Story [OT]

In regards to the thread about commercialism, maybe we could take a lesson
from this poignant little story...

AN EARLY CHRISTMAS STORY

Pa never had such 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
thnk 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 tofind
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 thelittle 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.

Hugs,

CatNipped

What a beautiful story!

--
Joy

Things turn out best for the people who make the best out of the way
things turn out.
-- John Wooden

"CatNipped" wrote in message
...
In regards to the thread about commercialism, maybe we could take a
lesson
from this poignant little story...

AN EARLY CHRISTMAS STORY

Pa never had such 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
thnk 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
tofind
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 thelittle
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.

Hugs,

CatNipped

"CatNipped" wrote in message
...
In regards to the thread about commercialism, maybe we could take a lesson
from this poignant little story...

AN EARLY CHRISTMAS STORY

Waaaaah!

That should *definately* have had a TW on it. That, or I have MMS (misty
monitor syndrome)

Yowie

What a wonderful story! Thank you so much, CN!
Best wishes,
--
Polonca & Soncek

"CatNipped" wrote in message
...
In regards to the thread about commercialism, maybe we could take a lesson
from this poignant little story...

AN EARLY CHRISTMAS STORY
snip