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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.

After supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of the fireplace and waited for Pa, we had already done all the chores. 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." We'd already done all the chores, and I couldn't think of anything else that needed doing, so I got up and put my boots back on and got my cap, coat, and mittens.
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. We never hitched up this sled unless we were going to haul a
big load. Pa was already up on the he seat, reins in hand. When I was on, Pa pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of the woodshed. He got off and I followed.
Pa went into the woodshed and came out with an armload of wood. 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.
Pa said. "Little Jakey was out digging around in the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They're out of wood. That was all he said and then he turned and went back into the woodshed for another armload of wood. 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 and put them in the sled. He brung back 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 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.
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. 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. 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 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." ;
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. We'll be by to get you about eleven.
Widow Jensen nodded and said, "Thank you, 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
setting back a little money 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 of gratitude for my Pa. 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.
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