> > A CHRISTMAS STORY > by Rian B. Anderson > ------------------------------------ > > 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 so bad that year 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. So > 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 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 the big 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. > When 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, then he turned to > me and said, "Matt, go bring enough in to last for 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, > 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 and so much > gratitude in her heart that she couldn't speak. My heart swelled within > me and a joy filled my soul that I'd never known before. 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 himself has sent you. The children > and I have been praying that he would send one of his angels to 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 over 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 older brothers and two older sisters were 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. So, 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. Just then 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.