did it because he chose to

Sweat, this is more like me.........but it would be because I chose to. Not because I was forced to.


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 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.