Chrystillian Christmas E-Book

Renier-Fréduman Mundil

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Seitenzahl: 193

Beschreibung

A goose on its flight to baking-oven land, chasing a golden angel's curl, encountering a mutant Christmas tree, an endless line of waiting stars, Santa's great-great-ancestor and, of course, Father Christmas himself, sitting on a cloud under whose shadow a boy is riding down from the peaks of the Andes, spreading the news of Christ's birth ... It could be like that, but it isn't quite, maybe a little, but just maybe. An Advent calendar of Christmas short stories, profound and loving, varied and multi-faceted, presented in a wonderful narrative style that will enchant even the adult reader. A fragrance-wrapped Christmas soufflé that can be eaten over 26+1 days, on each day of Advent and Christmas plus New Year's Eve, or all at once, depending on the size of your appetite or Christmas taste ...

Leseprobe

For

Esmay

the most enthusiastic fan of Opa’s books

Preface

Renier-Fréduman Mundil (pseudonym) has been a doctor for 40 years, and now, at the end of his professional life, has pulled a dusty manuscript out of his cluttered desk drawer, and his wife subsequently clothed it in the neatly cleaned and freshly ironed costume of an old book cover, so that it can walk a little like Pinocchio himself through this world that has become strange. A world that is becoming more and more different, but each year returns to the familiar point of 'Christmas,' which for a short time flushes deep memories, feelings and longings to the surface of everyone's life, before it all disappears again into the darkness of everyday life.

An invitation throughout the year, also for Advent and Christmas!

Mundil has been married for 43 years and has 24 children (don't be alarmed, four of his own, four children-in-law and 16 grandchildren).

Some of these dusty manuscripts arose from the age-old, simple perpetuum-mobile reason:

Once upon a time there was a man who had 24 children, and the 24 children said, Father, tell us a story! So the father began: “Once upon a time there was a man who had....“

Contents

Faithful Branches

Middle Child

Cash Desk Christmas

Lost Sheep

Snow Stop

The Little Angel

Schilda Christmas

Heavenly Choir

The First Gift

Christmas Uhle

The Cedars of Lebanon

Velvety Christmas

Asylum

At the Appointed Hour

Final Instructions

Barnabas

Christmas Grave

Christmas Andes

Christmas Riding Hood

Parallel Christmas

Flying Christmas

Christmas Curl

Father‘s Labour

Christmas Butterfly

Christmas Bread

Royal Sanctification

Christmas New Year‘s Eve

Faithful Branches

The first time I saw it, it was just up to the waistband of my trousers. I had already been walking for an hour when it was suddenly in front of me. Small, gnarled, not of beautiful stature, but a shiny dark green. Its needles were as wide as my thumb, so that I recognised my reflection in the spreading, shiny needles. I decided to wait the next few years until it had caught up with me and reached my size. Then I wanted to get it, put it in my living room and give it a Christmas like no other tree had experienced. It was hard for me to leave it. I couldn't shake off the feeling that I still had to do something, but I didn't want to think about it. So I stood there for a while until suddenly a thought flashed through my mind that I immediately knew was that certain thing I had been looking for. I put my index finger on an empty spot on the small trunk, closed my eyes and waited for the event of the last year that first came to my mind. Grandfather's funeral, it was less than four weeks ago. He had accompanied my life for many years, only to suddenly disappear overnight. And I didn't know where he had gone. I was still touching the trunk and thinking back to events I had experienced with Grandfather. After a while, I opened my eyes and the little tree was standing in front of me. As if it were a matter of course, I took my pocket knife and carved the spot I had touched when thoughts of Grandfather's funeral had come to me — slowly a thick tear of resin welled up to close the wound. Then I said goodbye and went home.

A long year passed before I stood before the tree again. It had grown a bit. I had cleared the area around it last year so that its growth was now wide and spreading. Again I put my index finger on a free spot. Again I closed my eyes. Again I waited for the first experience of last year to come to my mind. It was our Easter trip to Italy, the small mountain villages with the narrow mountain alleys, adorned with light, as the crowd of pilgrims pushed their way up the mountain on Passion Sunday. After the experience had passed before my eyes, I opened them. Again I reached for my knife. Again I carved the place I had touched.

This went on for several years, and it was not until the fifth year that I noticed that a new shoot had formed on each of the places I had carved and was beginning to form a spreading branch. The resin that had closed the injury at that time had become the growing medium for the new shoots. And when I looked at the five new branches, I noticed that they were a different colour. A delicate green, fragile-looking, like thin Chinese porcelain, with a golden undertone shining beneath it.

Seven more years passed until it had reached my size. Twelve new branches had formed, all a fine gold-backed green that made them stand out clearly from the others. I took a few steps back and realised that the new branches formed the shape of a star.

The Christmas star. My Christmas star!

Now it was time to bring it home for this Christmas. To bring my life home, my life of the last twelve years that was caught in its branches. I reached for the saw, but immediately realised that my muscles refused to set the jagged structure in motion. I could not bring myself to cut it down. To cut down my life. Somewhat perplexed, I walked home. On the way back through the snowy forest, it occurred to me what I had to do. In the parlour stood the Christmas boxes filled with the Christmas decorations and presents. I loaded everything on to a sledge and went back to the tree. In the rising dusk, I began to decorate its branches.

Only the twelve new golden-green ones I left free.

When I had finished, I lit the candles. Their warm light rose up to the sky and I felt as if it broke on the clouds to fall back down on me. The burning candles blended with the bright stars of the night sky. I looked at the twelve branches one after the other and my life of the last few years came up in my mind's eye. Only differently than I had remembered it. My whole life was bathed in the Christmas light.

Instead of Grandfather's funeral, I saw him at our kitchen table as I celebrated my eighth birthday. The Passion Way had turned into the great rolled-back stone that had closed the now empty tomb.

For a long time I still stood in the cold evening twilight and contemplated my past life, reflected in the Christmas glimmer of the twelve golden-green branches.

Middle Child

One year, Christmas time was approaching, Santa Claus decided to get in the mood for the festival by reading a little about the Lord in the thick old book. He took the book in his hands and opened it at random, he landed in the Gospel of Matthew:

Then children were brought to him so that he might lay his hands on them and pray for them. But the disciples brusquely turned the people away.

I could use such helpers, thought Santa Claus. To keep the children away from me, those meddlesome wretches, they no longer take my age into consideration, they frolic and buzz around me like startled bees, instead of standing in front of me with their heads bowed, clean and neatly combed, as they used to do, and reciting their poems. I could use such helpers as the Lord had. Santa Claus forgot that he was in heaven, that his dwelling was not far from the firmament of heaven with the throne of God, and that his murmuring could be heard all the way into the heavenly palace. There Jesus and his Father were sitting at the table and discussing things that were of no small importance for the round globe. When Jesus heard the words from outside, he asked to be allowed to get up, to pay Santa Claus a short visit. And the Most High also found this intention appropriate. Santa Claus was still murmuring when the Lord suddenly stood behind him.

A nice passage, said the Lord.

What do you mean? What passage?

The one you just read. It's one of my favourites.

Santa Claus became a little embarrassed. He could probably guess why the Lord had appeared.

Did you finish reading the passage? the Son of God asked.

Santa Claus shook his head.

Well, the Lord continued, I will tell you exactly how it happened. No one knows better than I do, after all, I was there. I was tired, the Lord began, because we had been travelling a lot the previous days. In Galilee, the day before, we had just crossed the Jordan and preached the new law to the stubborn people of Judea. I see you know what it means to be tired and have a crowd of restless children around you.

Santa Claus nodded.

Besides, there had been a dispute among my disciples as to which of them was the greatest.

I know, said Santa Claus, you put a child in their midst and said they should become like the children.

Yes, replied the Lord, I did that. Now remember the name of the child I placed in their midst. It was a little girl, eight years old, and her name was Rebecca. I will finish telling you the story. I had to tell the disciples to let the children come to me. Then I blessed each one as the parents asked me to do. Every single one, just as you go to every single child in the world at Christmas. And all at once the weariness was gone, Jesus continued to speak, even though I was worn out and tired and hungry and would have liked nothing better than to lie down to rest. With each child I laid my hands on, a piece of weariness in me vanished.

Santa Claus understood what the Lord wanted to tell him. Was it not the same with him? Many a year he was tired and worn out from the preparations and unnerved by everything that didn't quite work out beforehand. But when he made his rounds on Christmas Eve, he became happier after each visit, forgot the effort, his tired limbs and the worries of the past days and returned to his house after Christmas as the happiest inhabitant of heaven.

What has become of Rebecca? asked Santa Claus, the girl you placed as an example in the midst of your disciples. You told me to watch out for her name, surely not without reason.

The Lord nodded. After I had blessed all the children, I noticed Rebecca standing apart. The other children had not let her through to me, you know all sides of the children yourself, don't you?

Yes, Santa Claus confirmed, I know them all.

I waited until everyone had left and only my disciples and I were left with Rebecca. She already knew my disciples and I thought she would feel more comfortable now.

The Lord's voice faltered a little. A tear rolled from his eye as he thought of the story and the Lord wiped it away with his right hand.

I must go back to my Father, Jesus said.

At these words he laid his tear-stained hand on Santa Claus' eyes.

Let your eyes see for themselves what happened next.

The Lord returned to his Father's house and Santa Claus noticed how suddenly the girl stood before his eyes. She was talking to the Lord, he clearly heard both their voices.

Have they all gone? the Lord asked. Rebecca nodded.

Yesterday I had a dream, she said.

I know, replied the Lord. I know you had a dream. But I don't know exactly what it was about.

I saw a beautiful green tree, Rebecca said.

Well, replied the Lord. Tell me more.

On the tree hung colourful baubles and lots of fragrant sweets that I have never seen before. Red apples baked in sugar hung from the sturdiest branches and next to each apple was a lighted candle that illuminated the tree and kept the baked apple warm.

Did you tell the dream to your friends? the Lord asked.

Rebecca nodded. And that's why they laughed at me and pushed me out of their circle. They said I was a dreamer who talked great nonsense.

You don't talk nonsense, whispered the Lord. I will make your eyes see for two thousand years. And Rebecca saw for a moment a snow-covered house high in the north, behind the window stood a magnificent, colourful Christmas tree and in front of it sat children with shining eyes.

So it's true? Rebecca asked.

Yes, the dream will come true.

They will celebrate your birthday with this tree, isn't it true?

The Lord nodded silently.

But I didn't see a picture of you with the tree. Although it is your birthday.

Again the Lord nodded silently.

Are you sad about that?

The Lord was silent.

But it is still better than not celebrating your birthday at all.

Again the Lord nodded. You are a sensible girl. From your line shall one day come the man who at the end of each year, on my birthday, will visit all the children in this world and give them joy. He will also leave them a beautiful gift, something they have dreamed of for a year. And when they play with this gift they have been looking forward to for so long, he will lay his hands on them without them noticing and bless them, as I did with the children, so that they have a new happy year ahead of them.

The last word had hardly faded away before Rebecca and the image of the Lord had disappeared and Santa Claus was alone again.

I have seen my ancestor, he murmured, I have seen her when she was a little girl. What a clever family I come from, he remarked to himself, not without a little pride. And Santa Claus forgot his age, his tired feet, the worries of preparation, the almost impossible task of giving presents to millions of children all over the world at the same time for a new year. Santa Claus forgot all that, got up from his comfortable armchair, harnessed his reindeer and was simply happy that Christmas was just around the corner again.

Cash Desk Christmas

She was a saleswoman at Marks & Spencer, in one of the smaller branches near the port of Liverpool. The air was stuffy, although the building was fully air-conditioned. Crowds of people were incessantly jostling between the sales tables; it was the last day of shopping before the festivities. All the shops and department stores were open until 10 pm. She was standing at the checkout in the department for Christmas articles. Since 8.00 in the morning. Her legs were swollen, shoes and stockings cut into her swollen skin. Lunch had consisted of nothing but a hastily wolfed down roll. At home, work awaited. Wrapping presents. Decorating the tree. Sending off the last of the Christmas mail. Her husband would certainly be sitting comfortably in front of the television now. After work, she had to go to the grocery store and pick up the Christmas goose she had ordered. With the lump of meat, she would rush through town, running last-minute errands herself.

Can you give me a receipt? In front of her was a lady who had placed a mountain of Christmas items on the checkout counter. For our Christmas party at work. I need a receipt for tax, please.

Tax, she repeated softly, tax. In those days, Emperor Augustus issued an order for all the inhabitants of the empire to be entered in tax lists.

Here you are, the receipt for the tax lists. You're paying by card?

The lady nodded.

Stop your whining. Leave me in peace, all this bothering all the time.

A mother was standing in front of her, a boy of maybe six years old hanging on to her hand. The woman was stressed, she noticed it immediately.

Leave me alone at last. Glory to God in the highest and peace on earth, she repeated before looking at the woman.

Shall I wrap it as a gift?

The customer shook her head.

Leave it. I'm in a hurry.

Hastily she put a banknote on the counter and waited with trembling fingers for the change. Her son was still hanging on to her other hand.

Suddenly her boss tapped her on the shoulder from behind.

Please go to the nativity department, a gentleman wants to buy the hand-carved nativity scene.

She turned round. To the nativity department, yes, if she was to be pushed back and forth, then to the nativity department.

She wrapped him in a manger because there was no room in the inn.

The aisles were crammed with people and goods, she had to struggle to make room to get to the nativity scene. The impatient customer was already waiting there. At last, he muttered.

The figures, are they all handmade?

Yes, she replied wearily, hand-carved and hand-painted.

Even the shepherds? Just have a look at the shepherds.

The shepherds, oh yes, the shepherds, were the shepherds real too?

When the angels had left them and returned to heaven, the shepherds said to each other: Come, let us go to Bethlehem.

Her soft voice was interrupted by the department store's loudspeaker. It was John, he was on duty at the switchboard that day.

The driver of car B-NA 93374 D is asked to remove his vehicle from the entrance.

B-NA, a foreign number plate, were there that many strangers in town at that time?

I repeat, the driver of the vehicle with the number plate B for Bethlehem, N for Nazareth and A for Augustus is asked.... This John was crazy, at least, she had always known it.

Are there no angels for this nativity scene? the gentleman asked further.

Angels? Her thoughts repeated the word. Angels? Peace, goodwill toward men. When the angels had left them ...

There could be no angels, the angels had left the shepherds after all.

No, she answered curtly, perhaps in another shop. We only have nativity scenes without angels.

Very well, replied the gentleman. Tell me, the star above the manger, is it battery operated?

The star above the manger? What star? she asked, bewildered.

Grumpily, the man pointed to the wooden stable.

That star, the star of Bethlehem.

Oh, excuse me, I was thinking of something else.

The star, yes the star, we saw his star rise and have come to pay homage to him, it can be turned on by a battery. But you have to buy the battery separately.

Suddenly her boss was standing behind her again.

What are you doing here? All hell is breaking loose at the checkout. Didn't you see my sign?

The sign, oh the sign, she repeated softly, of course the sign. And this shall serve as a sign to you. You will find a child wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.

She hurried back to the cash desk. A long line of people had formed. From the other side of the queue a young man was approaching.

Excuse me. Can I pay you for this quickly? I have to go on duty, night watch at the hospital. Please, I won't make it otherwise.

Wordlessly she reached for the small leather case.

Night watch, she said softly, night watch, yes, you do something important for the lives of others. Night watch is important after all.

And she looked at the waiting queue, at the changed faces because of the night watch. In that place, shepherds were camped in the open countryside, keeping watch over their flocks by night.

Thank you, said the young man, I won't forget you, at least not during my watch.

It's all right, she replied, tucking what the unknown young man had said into a quiet corner of her heart.

Half an hour later, the queue had still not subsided. The strange faces suddenly turned into an impenetrable, heavy wall against which she was bumping violently. She staggered backwards and sank like a stone to the ground. Horror broke out in the queue of waiting people; a woman about to give birth also collapsed unconscious. She only woke up again in the hospital. When she opened her eyes, she saw a young man in front of her. Slowly she recognised him. He had been one of the last customers at her cash desk, in a particular hurry because of his duty, the night watch. He looked at her with a smile.

I told you I wouldn't forget you.

Yes, she nodded silently. The others. Did everyone get their shopping done?

Don't worry about it. Everyone got their due.

The pregnant woman from the queue? What about her?

She's in the maternity ward. The child should be there by now, maybe it's being wrapped in a nappy.

Yes, that's right, she said, they found a child wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger ...

Lost Sheep

It was quite a misfortune. And that it happened late in the evening, of all times, when the bright day was already darkening and turning into the shade of night. David was standing in front of his flock. His family owned a hundred sheep, everything they owned was in those hundred animals. I have lost one percent today, the shepherd boy thought. My father will scold me and my mother will look at me with big sad eyes. David was skilled in the slingshot, so skilled that neither wolves nor bears, no wild dogs or lions dared to attack the flock. The sheep had got away from him. It had simply run away. Maybe it had stopped. Or it could have fallen into a crevice. It could also have overeaten, for they had stopped on a rich pasture during the day and were now lying on their sides, unable to get to their feet under their own power.