Christmas stories »short, funny and contemplative

Christmas stories: short, funny and contemplative for children and adults

Christmas stories, for children and adults, you can find us quickly, without long searches, in a clear selection. They are ideally suited for cozy hours by the fireplace or as a little bedtime story during the Christmas season. We hope you enjoy using ours short, funny and contemplative Christmas stories.

Christmas stories overview:

Contemplative Christmas story:

1. Our first Christmas tree

It was the first Christmas vacation of my student days. For weeks I had already counted the days and finally the hours until the morning of the drive home from Graz to Alpel. And when the day came, it was storming and rummaging that my train got stuck. So I got out and went on foot, fresh and funny, for six hours through the valley, where the frost cut my nose and ears so that I could no longer feel them. Through the mountain forest, where I got so warm that my ears were suddenly back and hotter than ever in summer.
So when it was already dawn I came happily up to where the old house, shimmering through flurries and fog, stood like a blurry spot, lonely in the middle of the snow desert.
When I entered the room was so small and low and dark and warm – quaint. In the townhouses, all standards for a forest farmhouse are covered up. But you can find yourself in it straight away when the mother greets the newcomer without any fuss: “Well, because you are only there! "
The fire roars on the open stone hearth, a candle is lit in the good room. “Mother, not! "I said," prefer to light the chip light, that’s nicer. "
But she didn’t. The pine span light is for the working days. Because the son came home after a long absence, it was a holiday for the mother. That’s why the festive candle.
When my eyes got used to the half light, I also saw the Nickerl, the eight-year-old brother. It was the youngest and the last. “Looking out is good for you! “The mother praised my cheeks flushed from the flurry.
Little Nickerl looked pale. “You have the city colors instead of mine! “I said and laughed. The thing was. The little boy coughed, half the winter already. And there was an old maid who said at least three times a day that for a “coughing person” nothing was worse than “the cold air”. She forbade the little boy to go outside the door. I think that’s why he was so pale, and not for coughing.
I slept little on the night after Christmas – something rare in those years. The mother had made a bed with her on the stove with the instruction not to stretch her legs so far, otherwise they would come into the fire pit, where the coals were melting. The glowing coals were cozy, that crackled so nicely in the still dark night and sometimes threw a light glow on the wall, where the colorfully painted bowls were leaning against a rack. There was a concern that I had to make conclusions about that night before the mother went to the stove to cook the morning soup. I had heard a lot of talk about how to celebrate Christmas in the cities. There they are supposed to put a little spruce tree, a real little tree from the forest, on the table, attach candle to its branches, light it, including even lay gifts for the children and say that the Christ child brought it.
Now I wanted to build a Christmas tree from my little brother, Nickerl. But everything in secret, that’s part of it. After it was daylight, I went out into the frosty fog. And it was precisely this fog that protected me from the eyes of the people working around the house when I ran from the forest with a spruce tree to the wagon hut.
Then evening came. The servants were still busy in the stables or in the chambers, where, according to the custom of Christmas Eve, they washed their heads and prepared their festive attire. The mother in the kitchen baked the Christmas donuts, and the father with the little napkin blessed the yard. The father had glowing coals in a vessel, had sprinkled on the same incense and was going through all the rooms in the courtyard to smoke them and pray in silence. Evil spirits should be driven out and good ones blessed into the house.
So while the people were busy outside, I prepared the Christmas tree in the big room. I put the little tree that was stuck in the log on the table. Then I cut ten or twelve candles from the wax stick and glued them to the branches. Below, at the foot of the tree, I put down a wake-up call.
Then I heard kicks above the room in the attic – slow and tripping. They were already there and blessed the floor space. Soon they would be in the room where we used to end the smoke. I lit the candles and hid behind the stove.
The door opened, they entered with their holy vessels and stood still. " What’s that? “Says the father in a low, drawn-out voice. The little boy stared speechless. The Christmas tree lights were reflected in his big, round eyes like little stars. –
The father slowly walked to the kitchen door and whispered: “Mother, mother! Come in a little. "And when she was there:" "Mother, did you do that? "
"Maria and Josef!" Breathed the mother, "what louder have you put there on the table?" Soon the servants and the maids came over, frightened by the strange appearance. Then someone, a boy from the valley, suspected: it could be a Christmas tree.
Should it really be true that angels bring such trees from heaven? – They looked and marveled. And from the father’s jar smoked incense and already filled the whole room, so that it was like a delicate veil that lay over the burning tree.
The mother looked around the room with her eyes. “Where’s Peter? "
Then I thought it was time to step out of the oven corner. I took little Nickerl, who was still speechless and motionless, by the cool hand and led him to the table. He almost resisted. But I said to him in a deeply solemn mood: “Don’t be afraid, brother! Look, dear Christkindl brought you a Christmas tree. He’s yours. ”And then the little boy started to neigh with joy and emotion, and his hands were clasped as in the church.
I have seen the Christmas tree more than forty times since then, with a mighty shine, with rich gifts and joyful cheers among young and old. But I have never seen greater joy in the Christmas tree, so bright a joy, than that of my little brother Nickerl, to whom it came so suddenly and miraculously before my eyes, a sign of him who came from heaven.

Short Christmas story:

2. A winter evening

A winter evening, quiet and cold,
three little children are walking through the forest.
They have walked the path alone so often,
today the moon shimmers with its glow.
The path that is usually so short home,
today it never flows out into the forest.
The little legs, they advance,
there the sinister fir rises.
They run back and forth,
they can no longer find their way in the snow.
The little ones cry, but they are far wrong,
the night was cold, long since bedtime.
See there, under roots, a dry hollow,
the little sister is probably bedding them both,
carries foliage and moss to their rest
and covers them with her own dress.
The night was cold, lit by the moon,
the stars sparkle in the sky tent.
They were searched for, with shouts and shouts,
they were found in the morning light.
The two little ones are sleeping soundly
pressed together in the warm nest.
The arm gathered full of leaves and moss,
so the other was found motionless,
so she lay in the snow, her cheeks red,
she had kissed the icy death!

What is Christmas without stories? These can be an enrichment for young and old, they attune us to the contemplative Advent season.
Right now, with candlelight and the scent of cookies, a story comes quite right. Take a few minutes off to relax and let the Christmas spirit work on you.

3 . The very first Christmas tree

Santa Claus went through the forest. He was angry. His white spitz, who usually always barks in front of him, noticed that and crept after his master with his tail retracted. Because he no longer had the right joy in his work. It was the same every year. There was no swing in the matter. Toys and food, that was nothing in the long run. The children were happy about it, but squeaking, cheering and singing, that’s what he wanted, but they rarely did.
The whole month of December, Santa Claus had already pondered what he could possibly find new to bring the real Christmas joy back into the children’s world, a Christmas joy in which the grown-ups would also take part. It couldn’t be precious either, because he had to spend so much and nothing more.
So he trudged through the snowy forest until he was on the Way of the Cross. There he wanted to meet the Christ child. He always consulted with him about the distribution of the gifts. From a distance he saw that the Christ child was there, because there was a bright glow. The Christkind had a long, white fur dress and laughed all over the face. Because around it were large bundles of clover hay and bean staircases and aspen and willow twigs, and the hungry deer, deer and rabbits did a good job of that. There was even something for the sows:
Chestnuts, acorns and beets. Santa Claus took off his cloud slide and offered the Christ Child the time of day. "Well dude, how are you?" Asked the Christ child. "Are you in a bad mood?" This hooked the old man down and went with him. The little spitz trotted behind them, but he no longer looked sad, and boldly held his tail in the air.
“Yes,” said Santa Claus, “I don’t really enjoy the whole thing anymore. Is it because of age or something else, I don’t know. The one with the gingerbread and the apples and nuts is nothing more. They just eat that and then the festival is over. You would have to invent something new, something that is not for eating and not for playing, but where old and young laugh and become happy. "
The Christchild nodded and made a thoughtful face, then said: “You’re right, dude, I’ve noticed that too. I’ve already thought of that, but it’s not that easy. ” "That’s just it," growled Santa, "I’m too old and too stupid to do that. I have a real headache from thinking a lot and I can’t think of anything sensible. If it goes on like this, the whole thing will gradually fall asleep and it will be a festival like everyone else, from which people will have nothing more than lounging, eating and drinking. "
Both walked thoughtfully through the winter forest, Santa with a grumpy face, the Christ child with a thoughtful face. It was so quiet in the forest, no twigs moved, only when the owl sat on a branch did a piece of snow fall down with a half-loud sound. So the two of them, the Spitz behind them, came out of the tall wood onto an old clear cut, on which large and small fir trees stood. It looked beautiful. The moon was shining bright and clear, all the stars were shining, the snow looked like silver and the firs were in it, black and white, that it was a splendor. A five-foot tall fir tree that stood alone in the foreground looked particularly lovely. It had grown regularly, had a strip of snow on each branch, small icicles on the branch tips, and sparkled and shimmered in the moonlight:
The Christchild let go of Santa’s arm, nudged the old man, pointed to the fir tree and said: “Isn’t that beautiful? "" Yes, "said the old man," but what does that help me? "" Give me some apples, "said the Christ child," I have a thought. "Santa Claus made a stupid face, because he could not imagine that the Christ child still had an appetite for the ice-cold apples in the cold. He still had a good old schnapps, but he didn’t want to offer it to the Christ child. He took off his strap, put his huge box in the snow, rummaged around in it, took out a knife, sharpened it on a beech trunk and handed it to the Christ child. "Now cut some twine into two finger long pieces and make with two small pegs."
It seemed a little funny to the old man, but he didn’t say anything and did what the Christ child told him. When he had finished the twine ends and the pegs, the Christ child took an apple, put a peg in it, tied the thread to it and hung it on a branch. "So," it said then, "now the others have to go and you can help, but be careful that no snow falls off! “The old man helped, although he didn’t know why. But he finally enjoyed it and when the whole little fir tree full of red-cheeked apples hung, he took five steps back, laughed and said: “Kiek, how cute it looks! But what is all this for? "" Does everything need to have a purpose right away? "Laughed the Christ child.
“Be careful, it will be even nicer. Now give me some nuts! ”The old man crawled walnuts out of his box and gave them to the Christ child. That stuck a stick in each, made a thread on it, always rubbed a nut on the golden top of its wings, then the nut was golden, and the next on the silver bottom of its wings, then it had a silver nut and hung it between them apples. "Now what do you say to old people?" Then asked. "Isn’t that the best thing?" "Yes," said the boy, "but I still don’t know. ”“ Come on! ”Laughed the Christ child. "Do you have lights?" "No lights," said Santa Claus, "but a wax stick!" "That’s fine," said the Christ child, took the wax stick, cut it up and turned it a little around the central shoot of the tree and the other pieces around the ends of the branches, straightened them nicely and then said: "Have you got a lighter?" "Sure," said the old man, took out the stone, steel and mushroom tin, pissed fire from the stone, left the tinder in the sponge can to glow come and put some sulfur chips on it. He gave them to the Christ child. That took a brightly burning sulfur chip and lit the top light first, then the next from the right, then the one opposite. And walking around the little tree made one light after the other burn.
There was the little tree in the snow; from its half-snowed dark branch saw the red cheeks of the apples, the gold and silver nuts flashed and sparkled and the yellow wax candles burned solemnly. The Christchild laughed all over his rosy face and clapped his hands, old Santa Claus didn’t look so grumpy anymore and the little spitz jumped back and forth and barked. When the lights had burned down a little, the Christ child was blowing its wings and the lights went out. It told Santa to carefully saw off the tree. He did so and then they both went down the mountain and took the colorful tree with them. When they came into town, everything was already asleep. Then they stopped at the smallest house. The Christchild quietly opened the door and entered, Santa Claus followed. There was a three-legged stool in the room, with a perforated plate. They put it on the table and put the tree inside. Santa Claus then put all sorts of nice things, toys, cakes, apples and nuts under the tree and then both left the house as quietly as they had entered.
When the man who owned the house woke up the next morning and saw the colorful tree, he was amazed and didn’t know what to say. But when he saw gold and silver flickering on the door jamb that the Christ Child had brushed his wings with, he knew. He lit the lights on the tree and woke up the wife and children. It was a joy in the little house like no Christmas day. None of the children looked at the toys, the cake and the apples, they only looked at the tree of lights. They grabbed hands and danced around the tree and sang all the Christmas carols they knew, and even the smallest thing that still had to be carried in the arm crowed what it could crow.
When it was daylight, the miner’s friends and relatives came, looked at the tree, were happy about it and went straight into the forest to get a Christmas tree for their children. The other people who saw this copied it. Everyone got a Christmas tree and cleaned it up, one like this, the other like that, but lights, apples and nuts all hung on. When evening came, a Christmas tree burned all over the village, house by house, Christmas carols and the cheering and laughing of the children were heard everywhere.

As a tip:
New to us are the pages with Christmas cookies. Feel free to drop by. You might want to give away baked goods along with a Christmas story?!

Last but not least:
Do you know any other contemplative, short or funny Christmas stories? Maybe you wrote one yourself. Let us know if we can publish your work here. Write us an email.

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