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Bullet Box's Christmas Story #8285202
12/13/24 05:31 PM
12/13/24 05:31 PM
Joined: Dec 2006
Posts: 17,007
Goldsboro, North Carolina
Paul Dobbins Offline OP
"Trapperman custodian"
Paul Dobbins  Offline OP
"Trapperman custodian"

Joined: Dec 2006
Posts: 17,007
Goldsboro, North Carolina
It's that time of the year where we bring back this story that Bullet Box would post every year....

[Linked Image]




This is what Christmas is all about...

Better bundle up - the goose bumps will freeze you!! I think I need to read this every year at Christmas.

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 r ight 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 mu ch 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, 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.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, to you and yours...


John 14:6 Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me."

[Linked Image]
Re: Bullet Box's Christmas Story [Re: Paul Dobbins] #8285203
12/13/24 05:32 PM
12/13/24 05:32 PM
Joined: Dec 2006
Posts: 11,614
Coldspring Texas
Savell Online crying
"Wilbur"
Savell  Online Crying
"Wilbur"

Joined: Dec 2006
Posts: 11,614
Coldspring Texas
We miss you Bullet !


Insert profound nonsense here
Re: Bullet Box's Christmas Story [Re: Paul Dobbins] #8285209
12/13/24 05:40 PM
12/13/24 05:40 PM
Joined: Dec 2006
Posts: 45,384
Northern Maine
Bruce T Online content
trapper
Bruce T  Online Content
trapper

Joined: Dec 2006
Posts: 45,384
Northern Maine
Amen


#1 goal=Trap a wolverine
Re: Bullet Box's Christmas Story [Re: Paul Dobbins] #8285276
12/13/24 09:32 PM
12/13/24 09:32 PM
Joined: Dec 2009
Posts: 22,024
The Hill Country of Texas
Leftlane Offline
"HOSS"
Leftlane  Offline
"HOSS"

Joined: Dec 2009
Posts: 22,024
The Hill Country of Texas
Christmas round here will never be quite the same but this story warms my hard ol heart every year no matter how many times I've read it.

RIP Mr Box


�What�s good for me may not be good for the weak minded.�
Captain Gus McCrae- Texas Rangers


Re: Bullet Box's Christmas Story [Re: Paul Dobbins] #8285286
12/13/24 09:39 PM
12/13/24 09:39 PM
Joined: Dec 2013
Posts: 9,602
Northern MN
O
Osky Offline
trapper
Osky  Offline
trapper
O

Joined: Dec 2013
Posts: 9,602
Northern MN
Darn story always gets my allergies acting up.

Osky



www.SureDockusa.com
“ I said I don’t have much use for traps these days, never said I didn’t know how to use them.”
Re: Bullet Box's Christmas Story [Re: Paul Dobbins] #8285307
12/13/24 10:49 PM
12/13/24 10:49 PM
Joined: Sep 2023
Posts: 619
MO
C
Crappiekiller Offline
trapper
Crappiekiller  Offline
trapper
C

Joined: Sep 2023
Posts: 619
MO
Am so glad you continue to post it. One of my favorites and really helps align one’s priorities.

Merry Christmas to all.


CK
Re: Bullet Box's Christmas Story [Re: Paul Dobbins] #8285361
12/14/24 08:42 AM
12/14/24 08:42 AM
Joined: Dec 2006
Posts: 18,785
Rodney,Ohio
SNIPERBBB Offline
trapper
SNIPERBBB  Offline
trapper

Joined: Dec 2006
Posts: 18,785
Rodney,Ohio
Ought to pin this Paul

Re: Bullet Box's Christmas Story [Re: Paul Dobbins] #8285578
12/15/24 06:47 AM
12/15/24 06:47 AM
Joined: Oct 2014
Posts: 4,413
Eau Claire Wi
Trap Setter Offline
trapper
Trap Setter  Offline
trapper

Joined: Oct 2014
Posts: 4,413
Eau Claire Wi
Thanks for keeping this tradition going, Paul. Read it to The Boy again this year. Sure is a touching tale.


Life sure is tough when you don't learn from the mistakes of others.
Re: Bullet Box's Christmas Story [Re: Paul Dobbins] #8285651
12/15/24 11:15 AM
12/15/24 11:15 AM
Joined: Feb 2008
Posts: 575
UP of Michigan
B
billy Offline
trapper
billy  Offline
trapper
B

Joined: Feb 2008
Posts: 575
UP of Michigan
never gets old thanks Merry Christmas everyone,


Billy
Re: Bullet Box's Christmas Story [Re: Paul Dobbins] #8285944
12/16/24 02:30 AM
12/16/24 02:30 AM
Joined: Feb 2010
Posts: 302
Lima, Ohio / 62 yrs.
M
Minktrapper1962 Offline
trapper
Minktrapper1962  Offline
trapper
M

Joined: Feb 2010
Posts: 302
Lima, Ohio / 62 yrs.
My eyes swell up with a tear every time i read this. God bless you Bullet for such a wonderful story. May you Rest In Peace.
An thank you Paul for posting it every Christmas. May everyone have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year !


People who live in a country that allows them to keep and bear arms are citizens. People who live in a country that doesn't, are subjects.
Re: Bullet Box's Christmas Story [Re: Paul Dobbins] #8286709
12/17/24 07:02 PM
12/17/24 07:02 PM
Joined: Dec 2006
Posts: 12,243
Oakland, MS
Drifter Offline
trapper
Drifter  Offline
trapper

Joined: Dec 2006
Posts: 12,243
Oakland, MS
Never gets old no matter how many times I read it.


Some individuals use statistics as a drunk man uses lamp-posts — for support rather than for illumination.

Andrew Lang (1844-1912) Scottish poet, novelist and literary critic









Life member NTA , and GA Trappers assoc .
Re: Bullet Box's Christmas Story [Re: Paul Dobbins] #8287646
12/18/24 09:12 PM
12/18/24 09:12 PM
Joined: Aug 2013
Posts: 353
Iowa
M
Mitch L Offline
trapper
Mitch L  Offline
trapper
M

Joined: Aug 2013
Posts: 353
Iowa
I was waiting/ wondering when this would come back up... wonderful story!

Re: Bullet Box's Christmas Story [Re: Paul Dobbins] #8288745
Yesterday at 01:04 PM
Yesterday at 01:04 PM
Joined: Dec 2014
Posts: 252
Southern Indiana
P
Pressure9pa Offline
trapper
Pressure9pa  Offline
trapper
P

Joined: Dec 2014
Posts: 252
Southern Indiana
I've read this to the adult Sunday School class the last couple of Decembers. Not easy to get through aloud.

Re: Bullet Box's Christmas Story [Re: Paul Dobbins] #8289433
4 hours ago
4 hours ago
Joined: Dec 2006
Posts: 16,791
MN, Land of 10,000 Lakes
T
Trapper7 Offline
trapper
Trapper7  Offline
trapper
T

Joined: Dec 2006
Posts: 16,791
MN, Land of 10,000 Lakes
Never get tired of reading this story every year at this time. Thanks for sharing it.


I don't watch football, so I don't know who Taylor Swift is, but he sounds fast.
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