Best Christmas Stories For Kids To Celebrate The Wonderful Festival
Christmas Stories That Your Kids Will Never Forget in His Life: We all love Christmas and most of us wait for this wonderful festival year along. To boost the joy of living during the festive time we are presenting All-time best Christmas stories that will make your holiday special. Some stories that are given here are older while some are new.
But they have one thing in common: their ability to impart joy and pleasure when you read them. Wondering what Christmas stories for kids would be apt to narrate this season? Of course! The birth story of Jesus Christ, Papa Panov’s Special Christmas Story, and some heart-touching stories, that will make your day.
Remember all good Christmas stories need a happy ending and a good moral lesson. So gather your little ones around with some warm cocoa and read these stories that capture the wonder and miracle of Christmas! And don’t forget to share the joy of reading with your beloved ones. Happy Christmas!
1. What Is The Story of Christmas: How To Tell It To Your Kids
Long ago, about 2000 years, when King Herod ruled Judea (Modern Israel), there lived a young woman in the northern town of Nazareth. The girl’s name was Mary and she was a hardworking woman who was always good to others. Mary was engaged to be married to a man named Joseph, who was also good at heart. One day, God sent the angel Gabriel to Mary. The angel Gabriel said to Mary: ‘Respected lady, God has blessed you and is pleased with you.’
Mary was very surprised by this and wondered what the angel meant. The angel said to her: ‘Don’t be afraid, God has been very kind to you. He is sending a holy spirit to Earth to help people – that soul would be born as Mary’s son, and she would name him Jesus. He will be God’s own Son and his kingdom will never end.’
Mary was worried about how this was possible since she wasn’t married, but the angel assured her that it would be a miracle from God. The angel also told her that her cousin, Elizabeth, who had no children, would also give birth to a baby called John, who would prepare the way for Jesus’ birth. Mary had a deep faith in God.
On hearing this, she consented to God’s will. Mary said goodbye to her family and friends and went to meet her cousin Elizabeth and her husband Zechariah. Elizabeth was very happy to see Mary. She knew that Mary had been chosen by God to be the mother of his Son.
An angel had already told Zechariah that Elizabeth’s baby would prepare people to welcome Jesus. Mary stayed with Elizabeth for about three months and then returned her home. By then, she was pregnant. Joseph was worried when he found out that Mary was expecting a baby before their marriage had taken place.
Wonderful Birth Story of The Jesus Christ
He wondered if he should call off the wedding. But one night, while he was asleep, an angel appeared to Joseph in a dream and told him about God’s will, and urged him to marry Mary. The angel explained that Mary had been chosen by God to be the mother of his Son. So he should not be afraid to have Mary as his wife. He also told Joseph that the baby would be named Jesus which means ‘Saviour’ because he would save people.
Joseph woke up the next morning and decided that he would make Mary his wife. After the wedding, Joseph and Mary made a trip to Bethlehem, the place where Joseph’s family came from. They had to move because the Roman Emperor Augustus wanted to have a list of all the people in the empire, to make sure they paid their taxes.
Mary and Joseph traveled a long way (about 115 km) from Nazareth to Bethlehem. Some lucky people had a donkey to help carry the goods needed for the journey. But the couple traveled very slowly because Mary’s baby was due to be born soon. However, when they reached there, they could not find a place to stay as the village was crowded.
So many people had come to register their names in the census, that every house was full and every bed was taken in all of the guest rooms. The only place to stay that they could find was with the animals. So, they decided to stay in a barn where animals lived. It was there that Mary gave birth to the Son of God, Jesus Christ.
How The World Knew About The Jesus
In those days it was the custom to wrap newborn babies tightly in a long cloth called ‘swaddling clothes’. Jesus’ bed was the manger that the animals ate their hay. The birth of Jesus was signified by a bright star in the sky. Wise men from different parts of the world understood the significance of this star and followed it to reach Bethlehem. They brought along gifts for the baby and his parents. In other parts of Bethlehem, where shepherds were grazing their sheep, an angel appeared to give them the good news.
The shepherds were very, very scared, but the angel said, ‘Don’t be afraid. I have good news for you and everyone. Today in Bethlehem a Saviour has been born for you. You will find the baby lying in a manger.’. Then many more angels appeared, lighting up the sky. The shepherds heard them praising God singing: ‘Glory to God in highest, and peace to everyone on earth.’
When the angels had gone the shepherds said to one another, ‘Let’s go to Bethlehem to see what has happened.’ So the shepherds went to Bethlehem and found Mary and Joseph. The baby Jesus was lying in a manger as they had been told. When they saw him, they told everyone what the angel had said and everyone who heard the story was astonished.
They sang and made merry to welcome the Holy Spirit to earth. Since then, this day has been celebrated as Christmas. People go to church at midnight to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ. They exchange gifts, sing carols, and enjoy themselves. The season is all about warmth and joy, so let your children enjoy this day to the fullest.
2. Papa Panov’s Special Christmas Story 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 now 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 Christmas times when his wife had still been alive and his own children little. Now they had gone. His usually cheerful face, with the little laughter wrinkles behind the round steel spectacles, looked sad now.
But he went back indoors with a firm step, put up the shutters, and set a pot of coffee to heat on the charcoal stove. Then, with a sigh, he settled in his big armchair. Papa Panov did not often read, but tonight he pulled down the big old family Bible and, slowly tracing the lines with one forefinger, he read again the Christmas story.
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 the cowshed.
“Oh, dear, 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 long 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.
Papa Panov and The Jesus: A Christmas Story
He was feeling tired now, 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 at all Papa Panov was fast asleep. And as he slept he dreamed. 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,” he 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 at last 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 himself for he was rather stiff. 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, God’s Son?
He must watch carefully the whole day through so that he recognized him however he came. Papa Panov put on a special pot of coffee for his Christmas breakfast, took down the shutters, and looked out of the window. The street was deserted, no one was stirring yet. No one except the road sweeper.
He 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,” the sweeper said, “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.” And he actually smiled.
How Papa Panov Served The Poor Young Girl
When he had gone, Papa Panov put on cabbage soup for his dinner, then 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, hugging the walls of shops and houses, that it was a while before he noticed her. She 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 and in the pinched little face of the baby, that Papa Panov’s heart went out to them. “Won’t you come in,” he called, stepping outside to meet them. “You both need a warm seat 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 can’t afford shoes, I’ve got 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 when she got up with her baby to go. “May all your Christmas wishes come true!”
Fulfillment of Papa Panov’s Special Christmas Wish
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! Or beggars – and Papa Panov hurried indoors to fetch them hot soup and a generous hunk of bread, hurrying out again in case he missed 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 and indoors by now anyway. He walked slowly back into his room, at last, put up the shutters, and sat down wearily in his armchair. So it had been just a dream after all. Jesus had not come.
Then all at once, he knew that he was no longer alone in the room. This was not a dream for he was wide awake. At first, he seemed to see before his eyes the long stream of people who had come to him that day. He saw again the old road sweeper, the young mother and her baby, and the beggars he had fed.
As they passed, each whispered, “Didn’t you see me, Papa Panov?”
“Who are you?” he called out, bewildered.
Then another voice answered him. It was the voice from his dream – the voice of Jesus.
“I was hungry and you fed me,” he 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 big clock ticking. 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.
“So he did come after all!” was all that he said.
3. The Little Match Girl: A Touching Christmas Story
Most terribly cold it was; it snowed and was nearly quite dark, and evening – the last evening of the year. In this cold and darkness there went along the street a poor little girl, bareheaded, and with naked feet. When she left home she had slippers on, it is true; but what was the good of that? They were very large slippers, which her mother had hitherto worn; so large were they; and the poor little thing lost them as she scuffled away across the street, because of two carriages that rolled by dreadfully fast.
One slipper was nowhere to be found; the other had been laid hold of by an urchin, and off he ran with it; he thought it would do capitally for a cradle when he some day or other should have children himself. So the little maiden walked on with her tiny naked feet, that were quite red and blue from cold.
She carried a number of matches in an old apron, and she held a bundle of them in her hand. Nobody had bought anything of her the whole livelong day; no one had given her a single farthing. She crept along trembling with cold and hunger -a very picture of sorrow, the poor little thing!
The flakes of snow covered her long fair hair, which fell in beautiful curls around her neck; but of that, of course, she never once now thought. From all the windows the candles were gleaming, and it smelt so deliciously of roast goose, for you know it was New Year’s Eve; yes, of that she thought.
In a corner formed by two houses, of which one advanced more than the other, she seated herself down and cowered together. Her little feet she had drawn close up to her, but she grew colder and colder, and to go home she did not venture, for she had not sold any matches and could not bring a farthing of money
From her father, she would certainly get blows, and at home, it was cold too, for above her she had only the roof, through which the wind whistled, even though the largest cracks were stopped up with straw and rags. Her little hands were almost numbed with cold.
Oh! a match might afford her a world of comfort, if she only dared take a single one out of the bundle, draw it against the wall, and warm her fingers by it. She drew one out. “Richt!” how it blazed, how it burnt! It was a warm, bright flame, like a candle, as she held her hands over it: it was a wonderful light.
It seemed really to the little maiden as though she were sitting before a large iron stove, with burnished brass feet and a brass ornament at top. The fire burned with such blessed influence; it warmed so delightfully. The little girl had already stretched out her feet to warm them too.
But the small flame went out, the stove vanished: she had only the remains of the burnt-out match in her hand. She rubbed another against the wall: it burned brightly, and where the light fell on the wall, there the wall became transparent like a veil so that she could see into the room.
A Heart Touching Story of A Little Girl
On the table was spread a snow-white tablecloth; upon it was a splendid porcelain service, and the roast goose was steaming famously with its stuffing of apple and dried plums. And what was still more capital to behold was, the goose hopped down from the dish, reeled about on the floor with knife and fork in its breast, till it came up to the poor little girl.
When the match went out and nothing but the thick, cold, damp wall was left behind. She lighted another match. Now there she was sitting under the most magnificent Christmas tree: it was still larger, and more decorated than the one which she had seen through the glass door in the rich merchant’s house.
Thousands of lights were burning on the green branches, and gaily-colored pictures, such as she had seen in the shop-windows, looked down upon her. The little maiden stretched out her hands towards them when–the match went out. The lights of the Christmas tree rose higher and higher, she saw them now as stars in heaven; one fell down and formed a long trail of fire.
“Someone is just dead!” said the little girl; for her old grandmother, the only person who had loved her, and who was now no more, had told her, that when a star falls, a soul ascends to God. She drew another match against the wall: it was again light, and in the luster there stood the old grandmother, so bright and radiant, so mild, and with such an expression of love.
“Grandmother!” cried the little one. “Oh, take me with you! You go away when the match burns out; you vanish like the warm stove, like the delicious roast goose, and like the magnificent Christmas tree!” And she rubbed the whole bundle of matches quickly against the wall, for she wanted to be quite sure of keeping her grandmother near her.
And the matches gave such a brilliant light that it was brighter than at noon-day: never formerly had the grandmother been so beautiful and so tall. She took the little maiden, on her arm, and both flew in brightness and in joy so high, so very high, and then above was neither cold, nor hunger, nor anxiety – they were with God.
But in the corner, at the cold hour of dawn, sat the poor girl, with rosy cheeks and with a smiling mouth, leaning against the wall-frozen to death on the last evening of the old year. Stiff and stark sat the child there with her matches, of which one bundle had been burnt.
“She wanted to warm herself,” people said. No one had the slightest suspicion of what beautiful things she had seen; no one even dreamed of the splendor in which, with her grandmother, she had entered on the joys of a new year.
By Hans Christian Andersen
4. A True Christmas Story: Happiness and The Money
The Christmas of 1949 we didn’t have a tree. My dad had as much pride as anybody, I suppose, so he wouldn’t just say that we couldn’t afford one. When I mentioned it, my mother said that we weren’t going to have one this year, that we couldn’t afford one, and even if we could – it was stupid to clutter up your house with a dead tree.
I wanted a tree badly though, and I thought in my naive way – that if we had one, everybody would feel better. About three days before Christmas, I was out collecting for my paper route. It was fairly late – long after dark – it was snowing and very cold.
I went to the apartment building to try to catch a customer who hadn’t paid me for nearly two months – she owed me seven dollars. Much to my surprise, she was home. She invited me in and not only did she pay me, but she also gave me a dollar tip! It was a windfall for me – I now had eight whole dollars.
What happened next was totally unplanned. On the way home, I walked past a Christmas tree lot and the idea hit me. The selection wasn’t very good because it was so close to the holiday, but there was this one real nice tree. It had been a very expensive tree and no one had bought it; now it was so close to Christmas that the man was afraid no one would.
He wanted ten dollars for it, but when I – in my gullible innocence – told him I only had eight, he said he might sell it for that. I really didn’t want to spend the whole eight dollars on the tree, but it was so pretty that I finally agreed.
A Christmas Story Which Everyone Should Read
I dragged it all the way home – about a mile, I think – and I tried hard not to damage it or break off any limbs. The snow helped to cushion it, and it was still in pretty good shape when I got home. You can’t imagine how proud and excited I was. I propped it up against the railing on our front porch and went in.
My heart was bursting as I announced that I had a surprise. I got Mom and Dad to come to the front door and then I switched on the porch light.
“Where did you get that tree?” my mother exclaimed. But it wasn’t the kind of exclamation that indicates pleasure.
“I bought it up on Main Street. Isn’t it just the most perfect tree you ever saw?” I said, trying to maintain my enthusiasm.
“Where did you get the money?” Her tone was accusing and it began to dawn on me that this wasn’t going to turn out as I had planned.
“From my paper route,” I explained about the customer who had paid me.
“And you spent the whole eight dollars on this tree?” she exclaimed. She went into a tirade about how stupid it was to spend my money on a dumb tree that would be thrown out and burned in a few days.
Don’t Compare Happiness Just With Money Alone
She told me how irresponsible I was and how I was just like my dad with all those foolish, romantic, noble notions about fairy tales and happy endings and that it was about time I grew up and learned some sense about the realities of life and how to take care of money and spend it on things that were needed and not on silly things.
She said that I was going to end up in the poorhouse because I believe in stupid things like Christmas trees, things that didn’t amount to anything. I just stood there. My mother had never talked to me like that before and I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I felt awful and I began to cry. Finally, she reached out and snapped off the porch light.
“Leave it there,” she said. “Leave that tree there till it rots, so every time we see it, we’ll all be reminded of how stupid the men in this family are.”
Then she stormed up the stairs to her bedroom and we didn’t see her until the next day. Dad and I brought the tree in and we made a stand for it. He got out the box of ornaments and we decorated it as best as we could; but men aren’t too good at things like that, and besides, it wasn’t the same without mom.
There were a few presents under it by Christmas day – although I can’t remember a single one of them – But Mom wouldn’t have anything to do with it. It was the worst Christmas I ever had.
By John William Smith, from “Hugs for the Holidays.”
Copyright ©1977 by Howard Publishing Co. Inc.
5. The Gift of Forgiveness: A Christmas Story By J. Smith
Fast forward to today, Judi and I married in August of 1963, and dad died on October 10 of that year. Over the next eight years, we lived in many places. Mom sort of divided up the year – either living with my sister Jary or with us. In 1971 we were living in Wichita, Kansas – Lincoln was about seven, Brendan was three and Kristen was a baby.
Mom was staying with us during the holidays. On Christmas Eve I stayed up very late. I was totally alone with my thoughts, alternating between joy and melancholy, and I got to thinking about my paper route, that tree, what my mother had said to me, and how Dad had tried to make things better.
I heard a noise in the kitchen and discovered that it was the mom. She couldn’t sleep either and have gotten up to make herself a cup of hot tea – which was her remedy for just about everything. As she waited for the water to boil, she walked into the living room and discovered me there. She saw my open Bible and asked me what I was reading.
When I told her, she asked if I would read it to her and I did. When the kettle began to whistle, she went and made her tea. She came back, and we started to visit. I told her how happy I was that she was with us for Christmas and how I wished that Dad could have lived to see his grandchildren and to enjoy this time because he always loved Christmas so.
It got very quiet for a moment and then she said, “Do you remember that time on Twelve Mile Road when you bought that tree with your paper route money?”
“Yes,” I said, “I’ve just been thinking about it you know.”
Know How Forgiveness Can Sweep Away The Sorrow
She hesitated for a long moment, as though she were on the verge of something that was bottled up so deeply inside her soul that it might take surgery to get it out. Finally, great tears started down her face and she cried, “Oh, son, please forgive me. That time and that Christmas have been a burden on my heart for twenty-five years. I wish your dad were here so I could tell him how sorry I am for what I said.
Your dad was a good man and it hurts me to know that he went to his grave without ever hearing me say that I was sorry for that night. Nothing will ever make what I said right, but you need to know that your dad never did have any money sense (which was all too true). We were fighting all the time – though not in front of you.
We were two months behind in our house payments, we had no money for groceries, your dad was talking about going back to Arkansas and that tree was the last straw. I took it all out on you. It doesn’t make what I did right, but I hoped that someday when you were older, you would understand. I’ve wanted to say something for ever so long and I’m so glad it’s finally out.”
Well, we both cried a little and held each other and I forgave her – it wasn’t hard, you know. Then we talked for a long time, and I did understand; I saw what I had never seen and the bitterness and sadness that had gathered up in me for all those years gradually washed away. It was marvelously simple.
Moral of The Story: The great gifts of this season – or any season – can’t be put under the tree; you can’t wear them or eat them or drive them or play with them. We spend so much time on the lesser gifts – toys, sweaters, jewelry, the mint, anise, and dill of Christmas – and so little on the great gifts – understanding, grace, peace, and forgiveness. It’s no wonder that the holiday leaves us empty because when it’s over, the only reminders we have are the dirty dishes and the January bills.
By John William Smith, from “Hugs for the Holidays.”
Copyright ©1977 by Howard Publishing Co. Inc.
6. Christmas Story: Love Matters More Than Material Items
“Some time ago, a man punished his young daughter for wasting a roll of gold wrapping paper. Money was tight and he became angry when the child tried to decorate a box to put under the Christmas tree.
Nevertheless, the girl brought the gift to her father on Christmas day and said, ‘This is for you, daddy.’
The man became embarrassed by his overreaction a few days before, but his rage continued when he saw that the box was empty. He yelled at her, ‘Don’t you know, when you give someone a gift, there’s supposed to be something inside?’
The little girl looked up at her dad with tears in her eyes and cried; ‘Oh, daddy, it’s not empty at all. I blew kisses into the box. They’re all for you, daddy.’
The father was devastated. He put his arms around his daughter and begged for her forgiveness. A little while later, the girl died in an accident.
Her father kept the gold box by his bed for many years and, whenever he was feeling down, he would take out an imaginary kiss and remember the love of the child who had put it there.