Christmas, 1894

[RobesonsRme.com]

I received this today from one of my Special Forces friends.

I do not know who wrote this or when, neither does the man that sent it to me.

But, we all need to read this after viewing those Black Friday bshopping videos the other day.

If you've seen this before and know the author's name, please let me know.

Charlie Noyes

This is what a "Country Christmas" is really all about. A little warning:
You better bundle up - the goose bumps will freeze you! I think we all
need to read about a real country Christmas every year around Christmas
time. I hope you feel the same way after reading this 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. 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 was I not getting the rifle I wanted 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 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 country Christmas message with
someone. God loves you! Have a real country Christmas!

[treefarmer]

Everyone needs to read this story "Christmas, 1894" and let it speak to our hearts. It's almost like reading scripture, at least the biblical principles are therefor us to consider. Thanks Charlie Noyes for sharing with us what your Special Forces friend shared with you! Treefarmer

[blademaker]

Charlie...Thank you for sharing this!! I'm passing it on to family and friends. Thank You !


Craig

[RobesonsRme.com]

I have no idea who wrote this.

I Googled "Matt Miles" and "Matthew Miles" as that appears to be the name of the fifteen year old telling the story.

I didn't see anything that fit.

Charlie Noyes

[RobesonsRme.com]

Apparently, it is a ten page fictional short story written by Rian B. Anderson and illustrated by Michael Parker.

And, the story takes place in 1881, not 1894.

http://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q= ... pPaur41w2A

I do not think that fact lessens the impact one bit.

Charlie Noyes

[glennbad]

That was a great story. Kinda makes me feel selfish for sometimes wanting things I don't necessarily need.

Puts things in perspective, thanks.