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12 Days of Heartfelt Christmas Stories 2. A Christmas Change of Heart 4. The Cup-for-a-Can Hot Cocoa Stand 8. The Dime Zench.org also ChristmasStories.org American Literature : Christmas Stories and Children's Christmas Stories A collection of Christmas Stories: Blog - Facebook |
12 Days of Heartfelt Christmas Stories 1. The Gift of the Magi 2. A Christmas Change of Heart 3. Mom’s Christmas Quilt 4. The Cup-f...
| The Christmas Story with Ruth J Morehead's Holly Babes Vintage 1986 Paperback Children's Cute Nativity Storybook The curly-haired, toddler-sized Holly Babes put on a Christmas pageant presentation of the Nativity in this sweet, simple holiday story. 
The Christmas Story with Ruth J. Morehead's Holly Babes
The Christmas Story - HOLLY BABES narrated in Illustrations. The images, poems and songs on this site are copyrighted by the respective artist and are placed here for evaluation and entertainment purposes only. No profits are made on this site from their use. Please support these artists and purchase their music and their creations. GALLERY script from https://fliphtml5.com/ |
The Christmas Story with Ruth J Morehead's Holly Babes Vintage 1986 Paperback Children's Cute Nativity Storybook The curly-haired,...
T’ was the night before Christmas, and all through the town,
St. Joseph was searching, walking up roads and down; Our Lady was waiting, so meek and so mild, While Joseph was seeking a place for the Child; The children were nestled, each snug in their beds, The grown-ups wouldn’t bother, there’s no room they said; When even the innkeeper sent them away, Joseph was wondering, where they would stay; He thought of the caves in the side of the hills, Lets go there said Mary, it’s silent and still; The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow, Made pathways of light for their tired feet to go; And there in a cave, in a cradle of hay, Our Savior was born on that first Christmas Day! The Father was watching in heaven above, He sent for His angels, His couriers of love; More rapid than eagles God’s bright angels came; Rejoicing and eager as each heard his name; Come Power, Come Cherubs, Come Virtues, Come Raphael, Come Thrones and Dominions, come Michael and Gabriel; Now fly to the Earth, where My poor people live, Announce the glad tiding My Son comes to give; The Shepherds were watching their flocks on this night, And saw in the heavens and unearthly light; The Angels assured them, they’d nothing to fear, It’s Christmas they said, the Savior is here! They hastened to find Him, and stood at the door, Till Mary invited them in to adore; He was swaddled in bands from His head to His feet, Never did the Shepherds see a baby so sweet! He spoke not a word, but the shepherds all knew, He was telling them secrets and blessing them too; Then softly they left Him, The Babe in the hay, And rejoiced with great joy on that first Christmas Day; Mary heard them exclaim as they walked up the hill, Glory to God in the Highest, Peace to men of good will! Author: Sister St. Thomas, B.N.D. de N |
T ’ was the night before Christmas, and all through the town, St. Joseph was searching, walking up roads and down; Our Lady was waiti...
Why did Mom keep the red-and-green paper chain with the star?
It is the new year, and our family has spent another glorious holiday together. A fresh cover of snow lightly blankets the tracks of yesterday, where my children have made snow angels and rolled down Grandpa’s back-yard hill, spreading winter’s magical frosting from head to toe. Once breakfast is finished, Mom begins putting away the Christmas tree, an annual task she prefers to do alone. She removes the ornaments one by one, gazing momentarily at the handmade decorations crafted by the children in early years. Then, humming her favorite carols, she wraps each in tissue paper and gently places them in an old cardboard box. Like a child eating cake smothered in her favorite icing, Mother saves the top of the yuletide tree for last. Secured atop the tallest branch, reaching heavenward, is a simple, precious star, reminding all that Christmas in our home is illuminated with the light of Christ, represented by the new star. This will be the last ornament packed, then placed at the top of the box, where next year it will be the first light of the Christmas season to fill the home. But there is one more item: a small red-and-green chain with links cut from construction paper, then pasted together at the ends. It is long enough to circle the top of the tree. Its crinkled, faded links display years of wear, along with tape, staples and paste. Mom still does not know that many years ago I was watching from the other room as she delicately removed the chain from the tree, one link at a time. After pausing for a moment, she lowered the handmade ornament into a small white box, secured the lid with tape, and reverently said, “I can’t wait to see you again.” She placed the white box in the larger box, with room enough only for the star that soon would be nestled next to it. The larger carton was then sealed and slid to the side of the tree to be carried to the basement. At this moment I entered the room and offered to bring things downstairs. “Certainly,” my mother replied. “This box is ready, but be very careful not to drop it.” I could see that my mom’s eyes had tried to hold back tears, and a simple smile still lit her face. I carried the carton down to the storage room, where I quickly went to work. Curious about the event I had witnessed, I removed the tape from the top of the carton, and before I could be discovered, lifted the small white box up to the light. There it was: the answer to my curiosity, the reason for the care, the reserved spot next to the star and, more than anything else, the purpose for Christmas. Written on the side of the box in crayon, with five-year-old hands, in letters that did not match and leaned to one side, was the name “EriCK.” My younger brother, Erick, never lived to see his sixth Christmas or his ornament on the tree, but Mom has saved a spot for it each year, next to the star. She keeps it in repair, much like our entire family. And with weary hands and only a mother’s love, keeps the chain together. Now, as an adult and a father, I finally understand what together really means. |
Why did Mom keep the red-and-green paper chain with the star? It is the new year, and our family has spent another glorious holiday to...
Religious Symbolism of The Twelve Days of Christmas ( Baby Photography ) Anne Geddes Style This Christmas classic comes to life through the eyes of world-renowned photographer Anne Geddes. Babies help recant the story in imaginative and playful settings throughout the Twelve Days of Christmas. 
1 True Love refers to God
2 Turtle Doves refers to the Old and New Testaments
3 French Hens refers to Faith, Hope and Charity, the Theological Virtues
4 Calling Birds refers to the Four Gospels and/or the Four Evangelists
5 Golden Rings refers to the first Five Books of the Old Testament.
6 Geese A-Laying refers to the six days of creation
7 Swans A-Swimming refers to the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit, the seven sacraments
8 Maids A-Milking refers to the eight beatitudes
9 Ladies Dancing refers to the nine Fruits of the Holy Spirit
10 Lords A-Leaping refers to the ten commandments
11 Pipers Piping refers to the eleven faithful apostles
12 Drummers Drumming refers to the twelve points of doctrine in the Apostle's Creed Image Sources • Anne Geddes Gallery - The Twelve Days of Christmas • Pinterest • Religious Symbolism of The Twelve Days of Christmas • • Slideshare The Twelve Days Of Christmas Anne Geddes Photography BookThe dust jacket flap reads: The Twelve Days of Christmas is a very special book which captures the true spirit of the Yuletide season through the enchanting images of photographer Anne Geddes.Her distinctive, gently humorous interpretation of the lyrics brings the joyful traditional song to life and makes it as fresh and fun today as it was when first sung hundreds of years ago. |
Religious Symbolism of The Twelve Days of Christmas ( Baby Photography ) Anne Geddes Style The 12 Days of Christmas from Pinterest ...
 The Angel ProjectBy Ellie Bruan-Haley
I held onto the hand of my shivering granddaughter as we waited our turn to get into the huge barn-like building. We couldn’t see inside because of the length of our line and so we passed our time watching the other line-ups.
Volunteers were busily placing frozen turkeys into bags at the head of one line, and in the other families and individuals were receiving milk. The parking lot was filled with trucks and cars and still more waiting to get onto the lot. Strangely, though vehicles were blocked, no one honked nor appeared impatient. It seemed surreal as though everyone had been touched by something magical. Finally we could see into the building and I was overcome with emotion as my eyes took in hundreds of overflowing boxes. Each box filled with care represented not only hours or time on the part of volunteers, but the generosity and caring of hundreds of people. The boxes were filled with food for empty stomachs. Some boxes sported brand new toys, gifts from anonymous individuals throughout the town and area, toys for children who might otherwise go without. I suddenly felt self-conscious, aware that tears were flowing freely down my cheeks. I was touched by the display of kindness. I turned away from the crowds of people to wipe away the tears, and just as I did I was to see everything in a kind of mist and glow-like appearance. How fitting to see the “Angel Project” in this way. It was four days before Christmas and today marked the climax of the “Angel Project.” This was the day that families in need could pick up food hampers and toys. Everything was donated through the generosity of strangers. Finally it was our turn at the table and I found it difficult to speak past the lump in my throat. I was overwhelmed by all that was happening around me. Every box in that massive room represented the love of others. Every toy had been carefully selected to be given away, yet the receiver and the sender would never meet. Instead of Christmas shopping or cleaning, instead of baking cookies and decorating a tree, these people had dropped everything to sort, label and number boxes, and to hand out delivery addresses to volunteers to drop off boxes for those who had no transportation. I could feel something extraordinary there in that building. It wasn’t tangible or quite definable but there was something special, beyond friendliness and I felt privileged to be there and be a part of it all. People helped us pack the trunk and back seat of my car with food and toys for the first family and we set off to locate the address. As we drove along I felt blessed to have a tank full of gas and the opportunity to be among the delivery people in the “Angel Project.” Jani, my granddaughter, had arrived from British Columbia for a visit and when I had suggested that we participate as volunteers in this annual event, she grinned and said, “Yes, let’s do it.” I was not prepared for the greeting we were about to receive. I located a basement suite and when no one answered after ringing the bell I ventured down a set of steps and began calling out, “Hello, is anyone home?” A lady opened a door and as soon as I mentioned who I was and why I was there the woman began to shout. She was overjoyed and was calling out to some unseen person that we were there. Next, she ran ahead of me up the stairs calling out to a neighbor, “They’re here, they’re here, the Angel people are here.” She ran up to the car, out there in the snow with only socks on her feet and began thanking us. She continued to thank us with each box we unpacked and though we gently reminded her that we were only the delivery people, she could not contain her joy and she continued thanking us again and again. At the second house there were young children and when we introduced ourselves and explained why were there, the children were sent upstairs and were admonished not to peek. I knew then that what we were about to unload might very well be the total sum of their Christmas presents. Jani carried in the teddy bears, the huge craft set and the two other toys, all of which had been specifically chosen by “Angel Project” volunteers for these children. The mother helped me with the heavier food boxes and I knew this abundant supply would last a number of days. As we left we exchanged “Merry Christmas” greetings. The woman paused just before the door closed. She looked directly at me and her eyes looked misty as she said “Thank you, so much.” I shut my car door, fighting tears and choked up feeling. This giant rush of emotion burst inside me as I pictured those children on Christmas morning opening the wonderful gifts chosen by strangers. I could imagine tummies filled with good meals throughout the season. All this, because generous individuals opened their hearts and purse strings for people they did not know. For Jani and I, we got to spend a special day together being a part of something beautiful and unforgettable. And though we were only delivery people that day, the feeling I experienced was that of being the one who had received the gift. |
The Angel Project By Ellie Bruan-Haley I held onto the hand of my shivering granddaughter as we waited our turn to get into ...
Based on a true story by Jewelene Carter  The Little Red Chairs"Helen’s family had something to give—even when times were tough".Helen gazed through the window as the snow swirled outside, and shivered. “Brrr, Mama, it’s cold!” she said. She thought about Daddy, who was out working at whatever job he could find on this cold, windy day. “I hope Daddy is all right.” “I’m sure he will be fine,” Mama said. “Come help me finish kneading this bread before your sister wakes from her nap.” Helen climbed on a chair and watched Mama push, pound, and roll the ball of dough. She looked over at the beans that had been boiling on the stove all morning, and frowned. Mama saw her frown and said, “Helen, we are lucky Daddy has work so we have food. And I have a secret,” she whispered. Helen moved closer. “I have raisins, walnuts, and a little honey for our leftover dough. Let’s make cinnamon rolls!” “A Christmas gift for Daddy!” Helen said, clapping her hands. Together they rolled the dough and spread the honey. Helen carefully placed each raisin and walnut as Mama sprinkled cinnamon. Then Mama said, “Let’s go to the barn while we’re waiting for the rolls to rise and see if the chickens laid any eggs.” The wind whistled around them as they ran to the barn. When Mama finished placing the last egg into a basket, Helen counted each one. “Nine eggs, Mama!” When they got inside, Helen checked the cinnamon rolls. “Look! They’re perfect,” she said as Mama placed them in the oven. Then they heard a knock at the door. “Who could that be?” Mama asked. Helen followed Mama and hid behind her skirt as Mama opened the door. Behind it stood a tired-looking woman holding a couple of red wooden chairs. Helen peeked out from behind Mama. The woman stepped forward. “I’m selling these little red chairs for one dollar each,” she said. Helen let go of Mama’s skirt and touched one of the chairs. She thought how she and her sister would love those chairs. Something behind the woman caught Helen’s eye. A daddy and little children were waiting in an old truck. Mama wiped her hands on her apron and invited the woman inside. “With these hard times, I don’t have any money to give you,” Mama said. “But I will make you a Christmas trade.” Mama picked up the basket of eggs and added potatoes to it. Then she took out a clean bucket and filled it with the cooked beans. Helen’s heart felt warm as Mama took out a hot loaf of bread and put it in the basket. “Thank you,” the woman said softly. Helen smiled at the woman. The woman put down the red chairs as Mama put a finger over her lips, “This is our Christmas secret, Helen.” Tears rolled down the woman’s face as she walked with Mama to the door and they wished each other “Merry Christmas.”
On Christmas morning Helen and her sister each unwrapped a little red chair. One leg on Helen’s was a little shorter than the other three. “Look, my very own rocking chair!” This had been the very best Christmas. |
Based on a true story by Jewelene Carter This story was told to the author by her grandmother Helen Sleight Gurr about a Christmas experi...
 Little Old Donkey that had Little to SayBy C. Ralph BennettIt was the night before Christmas when all the beasts came together from the farthest places of the earth to talk. The first voice to be heard was the deep, rich bass of the lion. “I speak,” he said, “as the king of beasts.” And truly he looked a king with his beautiful thick mane and his tawny rippling muscles. “I won’t repeat my good deeds. I shall not again tonight repeat the shining stories of the days when the Romans loved me. I shall not recall the story of the one man, Daniel, who defied me in my own den — a story humbling to me — which I have often told you to prove I am not proud. I shall say nothing of my stealthy fury that makes the whole continent tremble at the very sound of my name…” “Then I shall speak,” — and by the trumpet sound, the beasts knew the elephant spoke. “I am the biggest beast on earth. My size and my strength awe nations. Yet I can walk so softly and lightly that no ear can hear my coming. Isn’t that something to be proud of? And I don’t believe any of you can flip a tremendous teak log over your shoulder as handily as I can. That takes power. Yes, and who else here has been a beast of war? Who else has crossed the Alps? You know how very high the Alps are! I and my strong brothers helped the famous General Hannibal and his soldiers over them in one of his great campaigns. And Hannibal’s in history books all over the world.” A strange, whispering voice broke in: “You know me, the giraffe. Usually I stay silent, but I hope you’ll remember I’m the tallest and can look down on you. But please don’t think I am bragging because I’m up here above you. I eat from the tops of trees. Nobody else here can do that. Besides, being the tallest, I can run faster than most…” “Let me interrupt.” It was the leopard’s voice. “You’d have to move pretty fast to outrun certain striped and spotted cousins of mine who hold most of the speed records. Right, cousins?” The tiger nodded his head and the cheetah, fastest of all, smiled. The camel, till now, had been chewing his cud and watching with sad eyes. He cleared his throat and his voice rasped out: “I am neither handsome nor fleet. I have some trouble keeping clean. But I have the right to feel as proud as anyone here. I helped build the pyramids of Egypt! Have any of you ever tackled a job that big? I am also the only animal in the world that can have two humps on his back. I am used to going many days without water, across scorching sands that would burn the feet off most of you within hours. My friends, the camel counts, and I have a right to feel happy. ” For a long while after the camel’s speech, there was silence. Then the llama coughed and said: “I am by nature modest. One thing, however — I, have had much experience crossing mountains. You have heard of the Andes, my home, and the war work I’ve done.” Others spoke too. The goose honked, “I laid a golden egg once. Who else has done that?” The turtle said, “I’m the slowest. It’s better. When you 90 fast, you go round in circles.” The fox said: “I am the slyest, the trickiest, and probably the brainiest of you all. ” The zebra said: “For confusion, I’m best. Am I black with white stripes or white with black ” The grizzly bear said: “Who that is as heavy as I can climb a tree as well? ” And the polar bear said: “Can anybody but me swim with icebergs or catch fish with a paw? ” All this time a little grey beast stood listening. Finally, the other animals looked his way. There wasn’t much he could do but speak. “I am a donkey,” he began, in a voice so hoarse and low that the beasts leaned forward to hear. “I can’t run fast or go days without water. I couldn’t swim a stroke among icebergs. I’ve never climbed a tree. Nobody is afraid of me. ” Lower and lower sank the little donkey’s voice. His ears drooped, and his head was bowed. The other beasts could hardly hear him. Suddenly he raised his head. His eyes looked far away in time and space and there was a strange glow around him. “Only one thing I have ever done has stuck in my mind. It happened a long, long time ago…on the way to Egypt in the dark of night. I carried a mother who carried a King.” |
Little Old Donkey that had Little to Say By C. Ralph Bennett It was the night before Christmas when all the beasts came together ...
Once, long ago, there was a Raggedy Drum One drum a little boy would tat on, for Jesus had come For one little baby, wrapped in a swaddling cloth Was born in a manger, born to save the lost This Raggedy Drum, though worn out, and old Gave music to Jesus, as He lay in the cold Born in a stable, with no comfy bed Yet this little drum, would soothe Him, it's said! Little Drummer Boy felt, he must make a way To shower small Jesus, with blessings this day So he took his old drum, and searched high, and low To find baby Jesus, as he walked through the snow Little Drummer Boy worried, for his gift was so small Just him, and his drum, "how could that soothe at all?" For his drum was in tatters, a hole in its skin And he felt in his heart, he would not be let in He arrived at the stable, where Jesus was born And he knocked on the stable door, in clothes all torn To his surprise, he was led to Jesus' side And he tatted his drum, with much love, and pride How humble he felt, when he beat that old drum For he knew it was special, for Jesus had come He learned the best gift of all, isn't bought from store - It's the gift from your heart, that means so much more. |
Once, long ago, there was a Raggedy Drum One drum a little boy would tat on, for Jesus had come For one little baby, wrapped in a sw...
 The Christmas We Gave AwayAnonymous
What a year we had had! A new baby daughter, a job promotion for my husband, and a brand new home were among many blessings we had received and for which my husband and I were grateful.
We wanted no gifts for Christmas, because our cups were running over. But we knew our children still anticipated Christmas morning and gifts from Santa. We were concerned about giving the children too much. How could they learn to appreciate what they had if they just kept receiving more? At family home evening, we talked about doing something special for someone else at Christmas. Our oldest son said, “Why don’t we find a family who needs help and give them presents?” Soon all of us were excited about the idea. We decided to do our project anonymously. We didn’t know exactly how we would find our “Christmas family,” but we did know we wanted to help. The next morning I made calls to friends who might know of someone in need. That evening at dinner I described the family I had found. The father was a carpenter and out of work. They had three children, one the same age as our new baby. Their baby had been undergoing many tests as doctors tried to determine why she wasn’t developing properly. Because the family had no insurance, their savings were gone, and with those savings had gone the prospect of having gifts at Christmas. “Can we give them some of our clothes?” asked our daughter. We all agreed that her idea was good, and so the children ran to their bedrooms and began sorting out the clothes they had outgrown. But my husband and I knew that clothes were not enough. The following day my husband asked the children if they would like to buy a special present for each member of our Christmas family. Excitement reigned as we departed for an evening of holiday shopping. By family home evening the following week, we were ready to deliver gifts, clothing, and oranges to our Christmas family. But before we left, my husband gathered the children and said, “It sure is great to see all of you so excited to share your Christmas. Do you realize that by buying these gifts and this food, you are giving up part of your own Christmas?” The children had not thought of their project that way before. Their eyes widened as their father took out a crisp, 100-dollar bill. “Do you think we should give this money to the parents so they can buy other things they need?” he asked. “And do you understand that your Christmas will be very small this year because you are sharing it?” Each of the children grinned and nodded. We tucked the money into a Christmas card and addressed the envelope to “Our Friends.” Then we were off to deliver Christmas to our special family. We parked the car up the street from the house and planned our delivery strategy. Within seconds, it was all accomplished. We pulled away just as the door opened. That evening, as we said our family prayer, our minds and hearts were truly one. Christmas was still a week away, but we felt we had just had ours. The next morning the phone rang. “Just thought you’d like to know about a family that received a special gift last night,” my friend said. “They had been wondering if they should use their last twenty dollars to pay their tithing, or if they should keep it, because Christmas was nearing and they had no more money. They decided to pay their tithing. Last night their doorbell rang, and when the husband opened the door he found packages of clothes, gifts, and food. The next morning they noticed a white envelope on the floor, and when they opened it, a 100-dollar bill fell out. They know it was the Lord’s way of blessing them for paying their tithing, and their hearts are full of gratitude.” I tearfully related the message to my husband and children. We felt we had already been blessed just by giving. To know that we had been the Lord’s instruments for a moment that special evening made us realize the true value of our Christmas project. Though the gifts under our tree were few, we had never been blessed with such abundance at Christmas. |
The Christmas We Gave Away Anonymous What a year we had had! A new baby daughter, a job promotion for my husband, and a brand new ho...
The story of a little russian boy named misha. Keeping Jesus Warm
In 1994, two Americans answered an invitation from the Russian Department of Education to teach morals and ethics (based on biblical principles) in the public schools. They were invited to teach at prisons, businesses, the fire and police departments and a large orphanage. About 100 boys and girls who had been abandoned, abused, and left in the care of a government-run program were in the orphanage. They relate the following story in their own words:
It was nearing the holiday season, 1994, time for our orphans to hear, for the first time, the traditional story of Christmas. We told them about Mary and Joseph arriving in Bethlehem. Finding no room in the inn, they went to a stable, where the baby Jesus was born and placed in a manger. Throughout the story, the children and orphanage staff sat in amazement as they listened. Some sat on the edges of their stools, trying to grasp every word. Completing the story, we gave the children many things to build their own manger. The orphans were busy assembling their manger as I walked among them to see if they needed any help. All went well until I got to one table where little Misha sat. He looked to be about 6 years old and had finished his project. As I looked at the little boy’s manger, I was startled to see not one, but two babies in the manger. Quickly, I called for the translator to ask the lad why there were two babies in the manger. Crossing his arms in front of him and looking at this completed manger scene, the child began to repeat the story very seriously. For such a young boy, who had only heard the Christmas story once, he related the happenings accurately – until he came to the part where Mary put the baby Jesus in the manger. Then Misha started to ad-lib. He made up his own ending to the story as he said, “And when Maria laid the baby in the manger, Jesus looked at me and asked me if I had a place to stay. I told him I have no mamma and I have no papa, so I don’t have any place to stay. Then Jesus told me I could stay with him. But I told him I couldn’t, because I didn’t have a gift to give him like everybody else did. But I wanted to stay with Jesus so much, so I thought about what I had that maybe I could use for a gift. I thought maybe if I kept him warm, that would be a good gift. So I asked Jesus, ‘If I keep you warm, will that be a good enough gift?’ And Jesus told me, ‘If you keep me warm, that will be the best gift anybody ever gave me.’ So I got into the manger, and then Jesus looked at me and he told me I could stay with him—for always.” As little Misha finished his story, his eyes brimmed full of tears that splashed down his little cheeks. Putting his hand over his face, his head dropped to the table and his shoulders shook as he sobbed and sobbed. The little orphan had found someone who would never abandon or abuse him, someone who would stay with him – ALWAYS. I’ve learned that it’s not WHAT you have in your life, but WHO you have in your life that counts. |
The story of a little russian boy named misha. Keeping Jesus Warm In 1994, two Americans answered an invitation from the R...
| Papa Panov’s Special Christmas is a heart-warming story of lonely shoemaker Papa Panov’s generosity reflects the true spirit of Christmas and learns a lesson in faith after the death of his son. The original story was written in French by Ruben Saillens and translated into English by Leo Tolstoy. It is based on a verse from the Bible, Matthew 25:35: "For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me."  Papa Panov's Special ChristmasA classic folk tale by Ruben Saillens, adapted by Leo Tolstoy.It was Christmas Eve and although it was still afternoon, lights had begun to appear in the shops and houses of the little Russian village, for the short winter day was nearly over. Excited children scurried indoors and only muffled sounds of chatter and laughter escaped from closed shutters. Old Papa Panov the village shoemaker, stepped outside his shop to take one last look around. The sounds of happiness, the bright lights and the faint, but delicious smells of Christmas cooking reminded him of past Christmases when his wife had still been alive and his own children were young. Now they had gone. His usually cheerful face, with the little laughter wrinkles behind the round steel spectacles, now looked sad. He stepped back into his shop, closed the shutters, and set a pot of coffee to heat on the stove. Then with a sigh, he settled into his big armchair. Papa Panov did not often read, but tonight he pulled down the big old family Bible. He turned the pages to The Birth of Jesus and slowly began tracing the lines with one forefinger. He read how Mary and Joseph, tired by their journey to Bethlehem, found no room for them at the inn, so that Mary's little baby was born in a stable. "Oh, dear!" exclaimed Papa Panov. "If only they had come here! I would have given them my bed and I could have covered the baby with my patchwork quilt to keep him warm." He read on about the wise men who had come to see the baby Jesus, bringing him splendid gifts. Papa Panov's face fell. "I have no gift that I could give him," he thought sadly. Then his face brightened. He put down the Bible, got up and stretched his arms to the shelf high up in his little room. He took down a small, dusty box and opened it. Inside was a perfect pair of tiny leather shoes. Papa Panov smiled with satisfaction. Yes, they were as good as he had remembered the best shoes he had ever made. "I should give him those," he decided, as he gently put them away and sat down again. He was feeling tired and the further he read the sleepier he became. The print began to dance before his eyes so that he closed them just for a minute. In no time Papa Panov was fast asleep. He dreamed that someone was in his room and he knew at once, as one does in dreams, who the person was. It was Jesus. "You have been wishing that you could see me, Papa Panov," Jesus said kindly. "Then look for me tomorrow. It will be Christmas Day and I will visit you. But look carefully, for I shall not tell you who I am." When Papa Panov awoke the bells were ringing out and a thin light was filtering through the shutters. "Bless my soul!" said Papa Panov. "It's Christmas Day!" He stood up and stretched. Then his face filled with happiness as he remembered his dream. This would be a very special Christmas after all for Jesus was coming to visit him. How would he look? Would he be a little baby as at that first Christmas? Would he be a grown man, a carpenter, or the great King that he is as God's Son? Papa Panov thought to himself that he must watch carefully the whole day so that he would recognize him however he came. Papa Panov put on a special pot of coffee for his Christmas breakfast, opened the shutters, and looked out of the window. The street was deserted; no one was stirring yet, no one except the road sweeper. The man looked as miserable and dirty as ever and well he might! Whoever wanted to work on Christmas Day? And in the raw cold and bitter freezing mist of such a morning? Papa Panov opened the shop door, letting in a thin stream of cold air. "Come in!" he shouted across the street cheerily. "Come in and have some hot coffee to keep out the cold!" The sweeper looked up, scarcely able to believe his ears. He was only too glad to put down his broom and come into the warm room. His old clothes steamed gently in the heat of the stove and he clasped both red hands round the comforting warm mug as he drank. Papa Panov watched him with satisfaction, but every now and then his eyes strayed to the window. It would never do to miss his special visitor. "Expecting someone?" the sweeper asked at last. So Papa Panov told him about his dream. "Well, I hope he comes," said the sweeper. "You've given me a bit of Christmas cheer I never expected to have. I'd say you deserve to have your dream come true." The sweeper then smiled. When he had gone, Papa Panov put on cabbage soup for his dinner and went to the door again, scanning the street. He saw no one. But he was mistaken. Someone was coming. The girl walked so slowly and quietly. It was a while before Papa Panov noticed her. The girl looked very tired and she was carrying something. As she drew nearer he could see that it was a baby wrapped in a thin shawl. There was such sadness in her face. In the pinched little face of the baby, Papa Panov's heart went out to them. "Won't you come in," he called, stepping outside to meet them. "You both need to warm by the fire and a rest." The young mother let him shepherd her indoors and to the comfort of the armchair. She gave a big sigh of relief. "I'll warm some milk for the baby," Papa Panov said. "I've had children of my own. I can feed her for you." He took the milk from the stove and carefully fed the baby from a spoon, warming her tiny feet by the stove at the same time. "She needs shoes," the cobbler said. But the girl replied, "I cannot afford shoes. I have no husband to bring home money. I'm on my way to the next village to get work." A sudden thought flashed through Papa Panov's mind. He remembered the little shoes he had looked at last night. But he had been keeping those for Jesus. He looked again at the cold little feet and made up his mind. "Try these on her," he said, handing the baby and the shoes to the mother. The beautiful little shoes were a perfect fit. The girl smiled happily and the baby gurgled with pleasure. "You have been so kind to us," the girl said. She then stood up with her baby and said, "May all your Christmas wishes come true!" But Papa Panov was beginning to wonder if his very special Christmas wish would come true. Perhaps he had missed his visitor? He looked anxiously up and down the street. There were plenty of people about but they were all faces that he recognized. There were neighbors going to call on their families. They nodded and smiled and wished him Happy Christmas! There were beggars and Papa Panov hurried inside to fetch them hot soup and a generous hunk of bread. He hurried out again so he wouldn’t miss the “Important Stranger”. All too soon the winter dusk fell. When Papa Panov next went to the door and strained his eyes, he could no longer make out the passers-by. Most were home by now. He walked slowly back into his room, closed the shutters, and sat down wearily in his armchair. "So it had been just a dream after all", he though to himself. "Jesus had not come." Then all at once, he knew that he was no longer alone in the room. This was not dream for he was wide awake. Suddenly, he saw a long stream of people coming towards him. He then recognized the road sweeper, the young mother and her baby, and the beggars he had fed. As they passed by him, each whispered, "Didn't you see me, Papa Panov?" Bewildered, he called out to each of them, "Who are you?" Then another voice answered him. It was the voice from his dream; the voice of Jesus. "I was hungry and you fed me," Jesus said. "I was naked and you clothed me. I was cold and you warmed me. I came to you today in every one of those you helped and welcomed." Then all was quiet and still. Only the sound of the clock ticking could be heard. A great peace and happiness seemed to fill the room, overflowing Papa Panov's heart until he wanted to burst out singing and laughing and dancing with joy. Papa Panov smiled and said, "So he did come after all." Moral of the Story
Papa Panov is the village shoemaker, and the night before Christmas he has a dream where Jesus promises to visit him. On Christmas, Papa Panov helps many different people because of the kindness of his heart, but Jesus does not come. However, he finally realises that Jesus did visit him, in all the people he helped. |
Papa Panov’s Special Christmas is a heart-warming story of lonely shoemaker Papa Panov’s generosity reflects the true spirit of Christmas ...
John was such a sweet little boy. So it was no surprise to hear that he believed that his Daddy would be home for Christmas. Early in November he was telling his Sunday School Class that Daddy would be home. The Sunday school teacher went to Mary, his mother, and said, “Is Mac coming home for Christmas?” “Oh, no,” Mary responded ” he is on shipboard through the New Year and is not expecting to be back for several months.”
Now this was common during World War II and many families were separated for many months at a time not to mention the ones who lost their loved ones entirely. Mary went to John and tried to explain to him that Daddy would be gone much longer than that. But John stood his 3-year old ground and said “I know that Daddy is coming home for Christmas.” Mary tried to reason with him but he would not budge. Christmas Eve came and he went to sleep believing that Daddy would be home the next day. The late in the night, the door bell rang. Mary went to the door. As she approached the huge glass door, she could see through the shadows the image of a man. She turned on the lights and there standing before her was Mac. He held a large Teddy bear, and several bags. Somehow his orders had changed only a short period before. John knew something no one else knew. He had the “faith of a child.” |
John was such a sweet little boy. So it was no surprise to hear that he believed that his Daddy would be home for Christmas. Early in N...
 Christmas Loaves And Fishesby Raynier Maharaj
On Christmas Eve, in homes everywhere, there is quiet excitement. Festive feelings and the warmth this holiday brings reminds me of a Christmas tale I love to relate each year. It is a true story, even though it might sound unbelievable. And it gives proof that miracles do happen.
A long time ago there was a group of young people who decided to spread some Christmas cheer. They had discovered that there were several children who would be spending Christmas in a community hospital near by. So they bought nice presents, wrapped them, and armed with guitars, sweet voices and one of the friends dressed as Santa Claus, dropped in at the hospital unexpectedly. The children were overjoyed at seeing Santa, and by the time the group was handing out presents and singing Christmas Carols, there were tears everyone’s eyes. From then on, it was decided they would play Santa every year. The next year, the ladies at the hospital were included in their rounds, and by the third year it was expanded to embrace some poor children. In the fourth year, however, after all the rounds were made, Santa looked into his bag to discover there were still a few extra toys left. So the friends mulled it over, trying to figure out what to do. Somebody mentioned a few squatters’ shacks nearby in which a couple of desperate poor families lived. So the group decided to go there, thinking there were perhaps three families at most. But as they drove over the crest of the hill into this lonely area (it was around midnight now) the shocked group saw a large number standing at the side of the street. There were children, more than thirty of them. Behind them were not three shacks, but rows and rows of them. As the car drew to a stop, the children came running out, shouting with joy. It turned out they had been waiting patiently all night for Santa Clause. Somebody that no one could remember had told them he was coming, although our Santa had decided to go there moments before. Everyone was stunned, except for Santa. He was in a panic. He knew he didn’t have enough toys for all the children. Not wanting to disappoint the children, he decided to give whatever toys he had to the smallest. When the presents ran out, he’d just have to explain to the bigger kids what happened. So moments later, he found himself perched on top of the car’s hood. These thirty or more sparkling, clean children, dressed in their best clothes, lined up in order according to height, with the smallest firs, were waiting for their moment with him. As each anxious child approached, Santa dipped into his bag, his heart heavy with dread, hoping to find at least one more toy. And, by some miracle, he found a toy each time he dipped into the bag. And as the last of the children received their presents, Santa looked into his deflated bag, it was toyless. It was empty - empty as it should have been 24 children ago. With relief, he let out a hearty HO-HO-HO and bade the kids farewell. But as he was about to enter the car, (the reindeer apparently had the day off) he heard a child scream, “Santa, Santa, Wait!!” And out of the bushes rushed two little children, a boy and a girl. They had been asleep. Santa’s heart sank. This time he knew for sure he had no more toys. The bag was empty. But as the breathless kids approached, he summoned up some courage and dipped into the bag once more. And, lo and behold, there were two more presents in there. The group of friends, now all grown adults, still talk about this miracle on Christmas morning. They still have no explanation for it, other than it happened. How do I know so much about this? Well I was the one playing Santa. |
Christmas Loaves And Fishes by Raynier Maharaj On Christmas Eve, in homes everywhere, there is quiet excitement. Festive feelings ...
Young Tommy Monson had always wanted a pony. He often admired his friend Henry’s Shetland pony. Wouldn’t he love to have one too!
One December, right before Christmas, Tommy’s mother took him to the toy department of a store in Salt Lake City. The store was going to give away a Shetland pony! To enter the contest, children had to write a note telling why they wanted the pony for Christmas. Tommy carefully wrote his note and placed it in the large box right next to the live pony in the toy department. Finally the day came when the winner of the pony was going to be announced. Tommy and his mother waited in the excited crowd. Tommy was sure he would win the pony. He had already made a home for it in his sister’s playhouse in the backyard and stacked a pile of hay nearby. But when the name was chosen out of the box, it wasn’t Tommy’s name. Another child took the pony home, and Tommy was heartbroken. As they left the store, Tommy and his mother walked past a man ringing a bell beside a small kettle to collect money for the poor. Tommy’s mother stopped and dropped in a big silver coin. Then she asked, “Tommy, do you have any money you would like to give to the poor for Christmas?” Tommy reached in his pocket, pulled out two nickels, and dropped them into the kettle, one after the other. It was all the money he had. Tommy Monson still remembers that day. “I didn’t win the pony,” he recalls. “But I received a far greater gift, even ‘the smile of God’s approval.’” It was a good Christmas after all. |
Young Tommy Monson had always wanted a pony. He often admired his friend Henry’s Shetland pony. Wouldn’t he love to have one too! One ...
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