My Most Favourite Christmas Ever
生命中最爱的圣诞
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 the Bible.
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. 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. 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.”
After we had put on 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.”
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.”
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.” 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 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.”
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.
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.