This Says it All

This was sent to me via email by my sister.
I don't know where it came from but it is our gift to you today, this day of Christmas...


This is what Christmas is all about...



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 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 mu ch 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.