[Nfb-krafters-korner] Christmas 1881
Henrietta Brewer
gary.brewer at comcast.net
Sat Dec 26 04:22:41 UTC 2009
Hi Joyce,
This was a very nice story. I didn't read it last night but saved
it. I enjoyed it so much today. I missed enjoying the memory of it
all day by not reading it last night.
I guess you did good things last night by sending this to us.
HenriettaAt 12:51 PM 12/24/2009, you wrote:
>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 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.
>Don't be too busy today... share this inspiring message. Merry Christmas
>and God bless you!
>
>[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
>
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Henrietta
~I wish you enough~
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