That Christmas

That Christmas
David Huett




     It was the year that Father hurt his back, I remember it so very well though it has been years since that Christmas.  How could I forget that Christmas.
     Father had been working in the field, harvesting the fall corn crop when he tried to pick up a huge limb that had fallen off one of the trees that lined the back part of the field that he had planted.  Whatever he did, it put him down for almost the rest of the harvest.  Neighbors helped as much as they could but they had their own harvest to get in.  It looked like much of the harvest would be lost until grandpa stepped in.
     Grandpa was a just a couple of years retired.  Oh, he still worked his own garden, cut wood and carried water, but he had left the big farming jobs to his son. However, when father could not work the harvest, grandpa stepped up.  Though there was a huge argument between my father and my grandfather, grandpa won the argument and by himself, with a little help from me, of course, saved the harvest.
     While that was an awesome feat, that is not what I remember about that year.  It was what happened on Christmas morning that I remember just like it was yesterday.
     Times were tough and since father had hurt his back, they were even tougher.  Even though grandpa saved the harvest, it was all that we could do to make it.  Mother and I had to do much of the work around the farm, and to be honest, it was hard.  Trying to keep up with the garden, canning all of the vegetables, taking care of the animals, milking the cow and cutting the wood.  Several of the men in the community cut the a lot of wood for us, but mother and I still had split the wood for the stove and for the fireplace.
     After the harvest, Father always made extra money working odd jobs around town, cutting wood for others.  One year, he drove a freight wagon for a couple of months so there could be Christmas.  This year, being hurt and all, Mother told all of us that Christmas would be small, very small and she told me, being the oldest, that there may not be any Christmas presents for me at all.
     That was okay.   I understood, though I have to tell you that I did want something for Christmas.  I mean, we never got much but there was always something under the tree for all of us and in our stockings hung on the fireplace mantle that was at least two or three pieces of Christmas candy.
     I remember that two days before Christmas we had a Christmas snow, well, a better word might be a Christmas blizzard.  The snow kept coming, getting deeper and deeper.  It soon became obvious that travel to town was not going to happen.  I could see the look in the eyes of mother and father that they had planned to go to town and get whatever Christmas we were going to have but that was really questionable with all the snow.  Father even dressed in his warmest clothes and tried to get out, but he could not with his hurt back.
     Even though the weather was terrible outside, the house smelled great.  Mother had made plans long ago for Christmas dinner and everything she needed to fix a feast fit for a king was in the house. When we  went to bed on Christmas Eve, my little brother and sister were excited about the visit of Santa Claus and the activities of Christmas Day.  After they went to sleep, mother had that worried look on her face and she told me,"  I don't know what to do, but as I guess you know, your father and I never made it to town.  I've made your sister a new dress and a doll, your father carved your little brother a wooden horse and he took one of his old belts and carved his name on it, but I'm afraid that there will be nothing for you.   Hope you understand.  There would not have been much anyway, with your father being hurt, but we simply could not make it to town.  You have been such a big help around here since your father has been hurt, you deserve something special, but there won't be anything there.  I'm sorry.”  
     It's hard to be a man at fourteen, but I did my best not to show my mother how disappointed I was.  I told her I understood, and I did.  Father had not been able to ride in the wagon. It just hurt his back too much.
     I put the wood on the fire and climbed the loft to where I shared the space with my brother and sister.  I pulled the blankets up around my little sister and climbed into bed with my little brother.  With all the work that I had been doing to help mother, I was asleep in a short time.
     When I awoke the next morning, the house was cold so I climbed down  the ladder and began to place the kindling on the coals in the fireplace. Usually father did that but since he hurt his back, he had trouble getting out of bed without pain, so it had become my job.  The fire flamed up and I added some bigger logs to the hot coals and I turned my back to warm up a little before I climbed back up the ladder to get dressed.
     As I turned around to warm my front side, I noticed that the stockings were bulging with something.  In the dim light of the fire, I looked inside my stocking and was shocked to see it full of Christmas candy.  My first thought was that my mother had not told me the truth to surprise me.  I smiled at the thought of my little brother and sister climbing down that ladder and seeing those stockings full of candy.  I rehung my stocking and moved towards the ladder to get my clothes.  There were still chores that needed to be done and I wanted get them done so I could help my mother get breakfast for the family.
     As I walked across the room I could see the small tree that I had cut and placed in the corner.  There were several packages under the tree. More than mother had told me about the night before.  I smiled again thinking that my mother had tried to fool me, since I was the oldest and thought that I had outgrown the belief in Santa.
     I climbed into the loft and got dressed. I climbed down a went to the door to put on my boots and coat.  I couldn't help but see that there were at least two presents with my name on them.  "Mother, you sure had me fooled" I thought to myself as I put on my gloves and hat.
     When I walked out to the barn, I saw the footprints in the snow.  That surprised me.  I thought  mother had just stretched the truth to surprise me. I could not imagine  anyone being out in this weather.  Who would have made a trip to our house in such weather as this.  Maybe mother did not lie to me after all.
 It was obvious that someone had visited us during the night and had brought those presents and that candy that was now in the house.  I looked after the animals, getting the fresh food and water and then walked back to the house.  I had been thinking while I was doing my chores that it had to have been grandpa that brought over those presents. Maybe father and mother had given them to grandpa to keep so that they would not be discovered and grandpa had walked from his farm to ours to deliver those presents.
     There was only one problem with that thinking, the foot prints came from town and went back towards town, not towards grandpa's farm.  And there were no footprints in the snow coming from or going back in the direction of grandpa's farm.
    I finished my chores and went back to the house.  Mother was up when I entered the house and began to take off the outer clothes I had put on to keep warm.
“I thought you said that there would be no Christmas?  How do you explain all those presents and the candy?  You tried to fool me, me being 14 and all.  Tried to trick me into believing that ‘you know who’ is real?  Thanks mother.”
“I want you to know that I have no idea how those presents and the candy got here.  Your father and I had picked some things out at Friedmans but honestly, we never made it to town to pick those things up. I have no idea. Was it your grandpa?”
“I thought maybe,” I replied “but the tracks in the snow don’t lead towards grandpa’s but towards town.  Who would come all the way from town in this weather to bring us presents?”
The kids, as I called them,  must have heard the talk cause they came down from the loft screaming with excitement.  Father had gotten up and you could tell by the look between him and mother that father had no idea how those presents got under the tree.
“I heard someone last night,”he said, “but I thought it was you coming back in from outside after checking on things so I didn’t even get up to look.  I had no idea that someone came in the house.”
    “Can we open the presents,” my brother and sister asked.  “Please, can we open them now?”
I got a chair for mother and father and began giving each one a present at a time.  When we finished my sister had her new dress and doll that mother had made and a brand new brush and mirror set.  Mother and father both shook their shoulder as if to say that they had never seen those items before.
My brother got the carved wooden horse and belt from father and a small metal pistol.  Again mother and father’s eyes told us they had no idea of where the pistol had come from.
There were two presents for me.  One was a pocket knife that I have been eyeing at Freidman’s general store but the second was a hatchet, and mother and father both said that Santa must have picked that out on his own.
There were two presents left under that tree, one marked for father and the other marked mother.  Mother got a new measuring cup set and father a new pair of gloves.  His old ones were worn out, with the end of the fingers completed gone.
It was a wonderful day to say the least. Mother’s dinner was delicious, the kids played all day and father, mother and I tried to figure out who has made the trip to us to bring us those presents.
Later that afternoon grandpa showed up to check on us and he assured us that he was not the bearer of the gifts, that he had spent the night in his warm bed and had not ventured out till he had come over to check on us in the afternoon.
The mystery continued till we finally were able to get to town.  All of us wanted to talk to Mr. Friedman to see who had bought those presents.  Surely whoever had purchased those presents had been the secret Santa who had delivered them to us.
“Sure, I remember who bought those presents but he asked me not to say a word.  Said it was Christmas and you folks had been though a lot and he wanted to do something special for you.  I told him the things you had mentioned to me and he picked the rest out on his own.   While he said I could not tell you who he is, he did leave a letter for you to read, but he said you could not read the letter here in town but had to read the letter when you got home.  He said to make you promise.”
While I might have been tempted to read the letter sooner, my father was a man of his word.  He placed the letter in his pocket and promised Mr Freidman that we would wait till we were home.  And that’s what we did.
As soon as we got home, we tied up the team to the rail and we all almost ran to the house to read the letter.  Father gave the letter to mother.  She began to read…

“Every year I ask the Lord to direct me to some family that needs a little help at Christmas.  This year He led me to you.  I know how difficult this harvest season has been, with your father being hurt.  Just as the wise men brought gifts to the Christ-child,  I have given these gifts to you in the name of the Lord.”
“Please do not feel any obligation to thank me, it is my gift to God and to you and your family.  God has been good to me and I want to share with you the blessings God has given to me.”
“Have a merry Christmas.”

Franz Snyder

“Mr. Snyder is our school teacher,” said the kids.  “He’s a really good teacher.”

“And” mother added, “He’s the new preacher at the church.  They say he is very good.  All the ladies have said so.”
Since father had hurt his back I had not been to school.  I was needed around the farm to help grandpa with the chores.

Father said nothing but the next Sunday, he loaded us all in the wagon and took us to church, and every Sunday for as long as I lived at home after that Christmas,  father took us to church.

It has been years since that Christmas.  I have long moved to the city. My brother and sister have also moved from the farm. My mother passed away several years ago.  As I look at the young preacher, he is not so young anymore.  Shades of  grey surrounds his temple.  He too has moved from our town, but when I contacted him about doing father’s funeral he responded, “It would be my honor.”

It is not cold today. It is early spring  The red mound of dirt stands in sharp contrast to the fields of green grass and the blooming of thousands of spring flowers across the meadow.

During the service the preacher made mention of the faithfulness of my father to the Lord’s house, to helping his fellow man, to his leadership to the small church and community. But I remember a time when father was too busy to go to church.  But that all changed on that Christmas.

I’ve got to get to the train station. I need to be back to preach to my own congregation on Sunday.  Someone asked me after the funeral why I didn't preach father’s service.  I told them that honor went to the man that God used to change my father's heart, and in turn my family's heart on that Christmas long ago.