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 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 alright... 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.

Merry Christmas and God bless you!