----- Original Message ----- 
From: Steve Stewart 
To: Undisclosed-Recipient:; 
Sent: Wednesday, December 24, 2008 12:15 PM
Subject: a Christmas story


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, some 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.

Don't be too busy today.  Share this inspiring message.
God bless you! 
Steve Stewart
C n D moderator
E-mail;
[email protected]



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