Christmas Stories 7

Christmas Stories Compiled by Michael James Johnston
Annie and Willie’s Prayer

Author Unknown
T’was the night before Christmas, goodnight had been said,

and Annie and Willie were tucked into bed.
There were tears on their pillows and tears in their eyes,

and each little bosom was heaving with sighs.
For tonight their stern father’s command had been given,

that they should retire precisely at even, instead of at eight.
For they’d troubled him more,

with questions unheard of than ever before.
He had told them he thought this a delusion of sin,

and that no such being as Santa Claus ever had been.
And he hoped after this he would never more hear,

how he scrambled down chimneys with his presents each year.
And this was the reason the two little heads,

so restlessly tossed in their soft downy beds.
Eight, nine, and the clock struck ten,

not a word had been spoken by either till then.
When Willie’s sad face from the blanket did peek,

he whispered, “Dear Annie, are you fast asleep?”
“Why no brother Willie,” a sweet voice replies,

“I’ve long tried in vain, but I can’t shut my eyes.
“Somehow it makes me so sorry because,

Papa said there is no Santa Claus.”
“Now we know there is and it can’t be denied,

for he came every year before our Momma died.”
“But then I’ve been thinking that she used to pray,

and God would hear everything Momma would say.”
This book is always growing…. Please Contribute your Christmas Story by visiting us online at
www.MikeJohnston.com/christmas * Page 65
“Well, why can’t we pray too just like Momma did then,
and ask God to send him with presents again.”
“I’ve been thinking so too,” and without word more,

four little feet bounded out on the floor,
Four little knees the soft carpet pressed,
and two tiny hands were clasped close to each breast.
“Now Willie, you know we must firmly believe,

the presents we ask for we’re sure to receive.”
“You wait very still till I say Amen,

and by that you will know your turn has come then.”
“Dear Jesus look down on my brother and me,

and grant us the favors we’re asking of thee.”
“I want a wax dolly, a tea set and a ring,

and an ebony work box that shuts with a spring. “
“Bless Papa, dear Jesus, and cause him to see,

that Santa Claus loves us as much as he.”
“Don’t let him get angry and fretful again,

at dear brother Willie and Annie, Amen.”
“Please Jesus let Santa Claus come down tonight,

and bring us some presents before it is light.”
“I want he should give me a nice little sled,

with bright shining runners and all painted red.”
“A box full of candy, a book and a toy,

Amen and then Jesus I’ll be a good boy.”
Their prayers being ended they raised up their heads,

and with hearts light and cheerful again sought their beds.
They were soon lost in slumber both peaceful and deep,

and with fairies in dreamland were roaming in sleep.
Eight, nine, and the clock in the steeple struck ten,

and the father had thought of his children again.
He seemed now to hear Annie’s half suppressed sigh,

and to see the big tears in Willie’s blue eye.
“I was harsh with my darlings,” he mentally said.

“I shouldn’t have sent them so early to bed.”
“But then I was troubled, my feelings found vent,

for bank stocks today has gone down ten percent.”
“But of course they’d forgotten their troubles air this,

and that I denied them the thrice asked for kiss.”
“But just to make sure, I’ll steal up to their door,

for I have never spoke so harsh to my darlings before.”
So saying he gently ascended the stairs,

and arrived at the door to hear both of their prayers.
His Annie’s bless Papa drew forth the big tears,

while Willie’s promise fell sweet on his ears.
“Strange, strange, I’d forgotten,” said he with a sigh,

“How I longed when a child to have Christmas draw nigh.”
“I’ll atone for my harshness,” he mentally said,

“I’ll answer their prayers before I sleep in my bed.”
So he turned to the stairs and softly went down,

took off his velvet slippers and silk dressing gown.
Donned his hat, coat and boots, and was out in the street,
a millionaire facing the cold driving sleet.
Nor stopped he until he had bought everything,

from the box full of sweets to the tiny gold ring.
Indeed he kept adding so much to the store,

that his various presents outnumbered a score.
Then homeward he turned with his holiday load,

and with Aunt Nellie’s help in the nursery t’was stowed.
Miss dolly was seated beneath a pine tree,

by the side of a table spread out for her tea.
A work box, well filled, in the center was laid,

and on it the ring for which Annie had prayed.
A soldier in uniform stood by a sled,

with bright shining runners and all painted red.
There were balls, dogs and horses, books pleasing to see,

and birds of all colors perched in the tree.
While Santa Claus laughing stood up in the top,

as if getting ready more presents to drop.
And as the father that picture surveyed,

he thought for his trouble he’d been amply paid.
And he said to himself as he brushed off a tear,

“I’m happier tonight than I’ve been for a year.”
“I’ve enjoyed more real pleasure than ever before,

what care I if bank stock falls ten percent more.”
“Here after I’ll make it a rule I believe,

to have Santa Claus visit us each Christmas Eve.”
So saying he gently extinguished the light,

and tripped downstairs to retire for the night.
As soon as the beams of the bright morning sun,

put darkness to flight and the stars, one by one.
Four little blue eyes, out asleep opened wide,

and at the same minute the presents they spied.
Out of their beds they sprang with a bound,

the presents they’d prayed for were all of them found.
They laughed and they cried in their innocent glee,

and shouted for Papa to “come quick and see,
What presents old Santa Clause brought in the night,

just the things that they wanted and left before light.”
“And now,” added Annie in a voice soft and low,

“You believe there’s a Santa Claus, Papa I know!”
And dear little Willie climbed up on his knee,

determined no secrets between them should be.
And told in soft whispers how Annie had said,

that their blessed Momma, so long ago dead,
Used to kneel down and pray by the side of her chair,

and God up in heaven’d answer her prayer.
“And then we got up and prayed, just as well as we could,

and God answered our prayers, now wasn’t he good!”
“I should say that he was, if he brought you all these,

and knew just what presents my children would please.”
“We’ll let him think so the dear little elf,

T’wd be cruel to tell them I did it myself.”
Blind father, who caused you stern heart to relent,

and your hasty words spoken, so soon to repent?
T’was the being that bade you go so softly upstairs,

and made you his agent, to answer their prayers.
The Man Who Missed Christmas

By J. Edgar Park
It was Christmas Eve; and, as usual, George Mason was the last to leave the office. He walked over to a
massive safe, spun the dials, swung the heavy door open. Making sure the door would not close behind
him, he stepped inside.
A square of white cardboard was taped just above the topmost row of strongboxes. On the card a few
words were written. George Mason stared at those words, remembering….
Exactly one year ago he had entered this self-same vault. And then, behind his back, slowly, noiselessly,
the ponderous door swung shut. He was trapped—entombed in the sudden and terrifying dark.
He hurled himself at the unyielding door, his hoarse cry sounding like an explosion. Through his mind
flashed all the stories he had heard of men found suffocated in time vaults. No time clock controlled this
mechanism; the safe would remain locked until it was opened from the outside, tomorrow morning.
Then the realization hit him. No one would come tomorrow—tomorrow was Christmas.
Once more he flung himself at the door, shouting wildly, until he sank on his knees exhausted. Silence
came, high-pitched, singing silence that seemed deafening. More than 36 hours would pass before
anyone came—36 hours in a steel box three feet wide, eight feet long, and seven feet high. Would
oxygen last? Perspiring and breathing heavily, he felt his way around the floor. Then, in the far right-
hand corner, just above the floor, he found a small, circular opening. Quickly he thrust his finger into it
and felt, faint but unmistakable, a cool current of air.
The tension release was so sudden he burst into tears. But at last he sat up. Surely he would not have to
stay trapped for the full 36 hours. Somebody would miss him. But who? He was unmarried and lived
alone. The maid who cleaned his apartment was just a servant; he had always treated her as such. He
had been invited to spend Christmas Eve with his brother’s family; but children got on his nerves and
expected presents.
A friend had asked him to go to a home for elderly people on Christmas Day and play the piano—George
Mason was a good musician. But he had made some excuse or another; he had intended to at home,
listening to some new recordings he was giving himself.
George Mason dug his nails into the palms of his hands until the pain balanced the misery in his mind.
Nobody would come and let him out. Nobody, nobody…
Miserably the whole of Christmas Day went by, and the succeeding night.
On the morning after Christmas the head clerk came into his office at the usual time, opened the safe,
then went on into his private office.
No one saw George Mason stagger out into the corridor, run to the water cooler, and drink great gulps
of water. No one paid any attention to him as he left and took a taxi home.
There he shaved, changed his wrinkled clothes, ate breakfast, and returned to his office where his
employees greeted him casually.
That day he met several acquaintances and talked to his own brother. Grimly, inexorably, the truth
closed in on George Mason. He had vanished from human society during the great festival of
brotherhood; no one had missed him at all.
Reluctantly, George Mason began to think about the true meaning of Christmas. Was it possible that he
had been blind all these years with selfishness, indifference, pride? Was not giving, after all, the essence
of Christmas because it marked the time God gave his own Son to the world?
All through the year that followed, with little hesitant deeds of kindness, with small, unnoticed acts of
unselfishness, George Mason tried to prepare himself…
Now, once more, it was Christmas Eve.
Slowly he backed out of the safe, closed it. He touched its grim steel face lightly, almost affectionately,
and left the office.
There he goes now in his black overcoat and hat, the same George Mason as year ago. Or is it? He walks
a few blocks, then flags a taxi, anxious not to be late. His nephews are expecting him to help trim the
tree. Afterwards, he is taking his brother and his sister-in-law to a Christmas play. Why is he so happy?
Why does this jostling against others, laden as he is with bundles, exhilarate and delight him?
Perhaps the card has something to do with it, the card he taped inside this office safe last New Year’s
Day. On the card is written, in George Mason’s own hand:
“To love people, to be indispensable somewhere, that is the purpose of life. That is the secret of
happiness.”
A Brother Like That

Author Unknown
A friend of mine named Paul received a new car from his brother as a pre-Christmas present. On
Christmas Eve, when Paul came out of his office, a street urchin was walking around the shiny car,
admiring it.
“Is this your car, mister?” he asked.
Paul nodded. “My brother gave it to me for Christmas.”
The boy looked astounded. “You mean your brother gave it to you and it didn’t cost you
anything? Gosh, I wish…” He hesitated and Paul knew what he was going to wish. He was going to wish
that he had a brother like that. But what he said jarred Paul all the way down to his heels. “I wish,” the
boy went on, “that I could be brother like that.”
Paul looked at the boy in astonishment, and then impulsively asked, “Would you like a ride in
my new car?”
“Oh, yes, I’d love that!”
After a short ride, the urchin turned, and with his eyes aglow said, “Mister, would you mind
driving in front of my house?” Paul smiled. He thought he knew what the lad wanted. He wanted to
show his neighbors that he could ride home in a big automobile. But Paul was wrong again. “Will you
stop right where those steps are?” the boy asked. He ran up the steps. Then in a little while, Paul heard
him coming back, but he was not coming fast. He was carrying his little polio-crippled brother. He sat
down on the bottom step, then sort of squeezed right up to him and pointed to the car. “There she is,
Buddy, just like I told you upstairs. His brother gave it to him for Christmas, and it didn’t cost him a cent,
and someday I’m gonna give you one just like it; then you can see for yourself all the pretty things in the
Christmas windows that I’ve been trying to tell you about.”
Paul got out and lifted the little lad into the front seat of his car. The shining-eyed older brother
climbed in beside him and the three of them began a memorable holiday ride.
That Christmas Eve, Paul learned what Jesus meant when He said, “It is more blessed to give tan
to receive.”
Who started Christmas?

Author Unknown
This morning I heard a story on the radio of a woman who was out Christmas shopping with her two
children. After many hours of looking at row after row of toys and everything else imaginable, and after
hours of hearing both her children asking for everything they saw on those many shelves, she finally
made it to the elevator with her two kids.
She was feeling what so many of us feel during the holiday season time of year. Overwhelming pressure
to go to every party, every housewarming, taste all the holiday food and treats, getting that perfect gift
for every single person on our shopping list, making sure we don’t forget anyone on our card list, and
the pressure of making sure we respond to everyone who sent us a card.
Finally the elevator doors opened and there already was a crowd in the car. She pushed her way into the
car and dragged her two kids in with her and all the bags of stuff. When the doors closed, she couldn’t
take it anymore and stated, “Whoever started this whole Christmas thing should be found, strung up,
and shot.”
From the back of the car everyone heard a quiet calm voice respond, “Don’t worry we already crucified
him.” For the rest of the trip down the elevator it was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop.
Don’t forget this year to keep One who started this whole Christmas thing in your every thought, deed,
purchase, and word. If we all did it, just think of how different this whole world would be.
Having Lunch with God!

Author Unknown
A little boy wanted to meet God. He knew it was a long trip to where God lived, so he packed his
suitcase with Twinkies and six-pack of root beer and started his journey
When he had gone about three blocks, he met an old man. He was sitting in the park just staring at
some pigeons.
The boy sat down next to him and opened his suitcase. He was about to take a drink from his root beer
when he noticed that the old man looked hungry, so he offered him a Twinkie. He gratefully accepted it
and smiled at him. His smile was so pleasant that the boy wanted to see it again, so he offered him a
root beer. Again, he smiled at him. The boy was delighted! They sat there all afternoon eating and
smiling, but never said a word.
As it grew dark, the boy realized how tired he was and got up to leave, but before he had gone more
than a few steps, he turned around, ran back to the old man and gave him a hug. He gave him his
biggest smile ever.
When the boy opened the door to his own house a short time later, his mother was surprised by the
look of joy on his face. She asked him, “What did you do today that made you so happy?”
He replied, “I had lunch with God.” And before his mother could respond, he added, “You know what?
He’s got the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen.”
Meanwhile, the old man, also radiant with joy, returned to his home. His son was stunned by the look of
peace on his face and asked, “Dad, what did you do today that made you so happy?”
He replied, “I ate Twinkies in the park with God.” And before his son responded, he added, “You know,
he’s much younger than I expected.”
Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest
compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around. People
come into our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. Embrace all equally.
The Little Girl with the Toothless Grin

By Sharon Palmer
I was doing some last-minute Christmas shopping in a toy store and decided to look at Barbie dolls for
my nieces. A nicely-dressed little girl was excitedly looking through the Barbie dolls as well, with a roll of
money clamped tightly in her little hand. When she came upon a Barbie she liked, she would turn and
ask her father if she had enough money to buy it. He usually said “yes,” but she would keep looking and
keep going through their ritual of “do I have enough?”
As she was looking, a little boy wandered in across the aisle and started sorting through the Pokémon
toys. He was dressed neatly, but in clothes that were obviously rather worn, and wearing a jacket that
was probably a couple of sizes too small. He, too, had money in his hand, but it looked to be no more
than five dollars, or so, at the most. He was with his father s well, and kept picking up the Pokémon
video toys. Each time he picked one up and looked at his father, his father shook his head, “no.”
The little girl had apparently chosen her Barbie, a beautifully-dressed, glamorous doll that would have
been the envy of every little girl on the block. However, she had stopped and was watching the
interchange between the little boy and his father. Rather dejectedly, the boy had given up on the video
games and had chosen was looked like a book of stickers instead. He and his father then started walking
through another aisle of the store. The little girl put her Barbie back on the shelf, and ran over to the
Pokémon games. She excitedly picked up one that was lying on top of the other toys, and raced toward
the check-out, after speaking with her father.
I picked up my purchases and got in line behind them. Then, much to the little girl’s obvious delight, the
little boy and his father got in line behind me. After the toy was paid for and bagged, the little girl
handed it back to the cashier and whispered something in her ear. The cashier smiled and put the
package on the counter.
I paid for my purchases and was rearranging things in my purse when the little boy came up the cashier.
The cashier rang up his purchases and then said, “Congratulations, you are my hundredth customer
today, and you win a prize!” With that, she handed the little boy the Pokémon game, and he could only
stare in disbelief. It was, he said, exactly what he had wanted!
The little girl and her father had been standing at the doorway during all of this, and I saw the biggest,
prettiest, toothless grin on that little girl that I have ever seen in my life. Then they walked out the door,
and I followed, close behind them. As I walked back to my car, in amazement over what I had just
witnesses, I heard the father ask his daughter why she had done that. I’ll never forget what she said to
him. “Daddy, didn’t Nana and PawPaw want me to buy something that would make me happy?”
He said, “Of course they did, honey.”
To which the little girl replied, “Well, I just did!” With that, she giggled and started skipping toward their
car. Apparently, she had decided on the answer to her own question of, “do I have enough?”
I feel very privileged to have witnessed the true spirit of Christmas in that toy store, in the form of a
little girl who understands more about the reason for the season than most adults I know! May God
bless her and her parents, just as she blessed that little boy, and me, that day!
Thank you to all those who contributed into making this compilation of Christmas Stories a great
success. If there are any mistakes, or if credit was given to the wrong person, we apologize for that and
we will try to correct any problems that are found.

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Christmas Stories Compiled by Michael James Johnston

Annie and Willie’s Prayer

T’was the night before Christmas, goodnight had been said,

There were tears on their pillows and tears in their eyes,

For tonight their stern father’s command had been given,

For they’d troubled him more,

He had told them he thought this a delusion of sin,

And he hoped after this he would never more hear,

And this was the reason the two little heads,

Eight, nine, and the clock struck ten,

When Willie’s sad face from the blanket did peek,

“Why no brother Willie,” a sweet voice replies,

“Somehow it makes me so sorry because,

“Now we know there is and it can’t be denied,

“But then I’ve been thinking that she used to pray,

“I’ve been thinking so too,” and without word more,

“Now Willie, you know we must firmly believe,

“You wait very still till I say Amen,

“Dear Jesus look down on my brother and me,

“I want a wax dolly, a tea set and a ring,

“Bless Papa, dear Jesus, and cause him to see,

“Don’t let him get angry and fretful again,

“Please Jesus let Santa Claus come down tonight,

“I want he should give me a nice little sled,

“A box full of candy, a book and a toy,

Their prayers being ended they raised up their heads,

They were soon lost in slumber both peaceful and deep,

Eight, nine, and the clock in the steeple struck ten,

He seemed now to hear Annie’s half suppressed sigh,

“I was harsh with my darlings,” he mentally said.

“But then I was troubled, my feelings found vent,

“But of course they’d forgotten their troubles air this,

“But just to make sure, I’ll steal up to their door,

So saying he gently ascended the stairs,

His Annie’s bless Papa drew forth the big tears,

“Strange, strange, I’d forgotten,” said he with a sigh,

“I’ll atone for my harshness,” he mentally said,

So he turned to the stairs and softly went down,

Nor stopped he until he had bought everything,

Indeed he kept adding so much to the store,

Then homeward he turned with his holiday load,

Miss dolly was seated beneath a pine tree,

A work box, well filled, in the center was laid,

A soldier in uniform stood by a sled,

There were balls, dogs and horses, books pleasing to see,

While Santa Claus laughing stood up in the top,

And as the father that picture surveyed,

And he said to himself as he brushed off a tear,

“I’ve enjoyed more real pleasure than ever before,

“Here after I’ll make it a rule I believe,

So saying he gently extinguished the light,

As soon as the beams of the bright morning sun,

Four little blue eyes, out asleep opened wide,

Out of their beds they sprang with a bound,

They laughed and they cried in their innocent glee,

What presents old Santa Clause brought in the night,

“And now,” added Annie in a voice soft and low,

And dear little Willie climbed up on his knee,

And told in soft whispers how Annie had said,

Used to kneel down and pray by the side of her chair,

“And then we got up and prayed, just as well as we could,

“I should say that he was, if he brought you all these,

“We’ll let him think so the dear little elf,

Blind father, who caused you stern heart to relent,

T’was the being that bade you go so softly upstairs,

The Man Who Missed Christmas