Pa and The Rifle

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 stretc hed 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 sideboards 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 somethin g, 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.

P a 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 t own 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 Jensen's, 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.

~by Rian B. Anderson~



Dean Masters, owner of the Masters List

The Lord is my light and my salvation.
If he is yours, join us on the Masters List
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