Merry (Early) Christmas! Read the winners of the SCWC December Writing Challenge

Christmas has come a bit early this year!

Celebrate with our December gift to you--the wonderful winners of the Southern Christian Writers Conference December Writing Challenge.

The challenge this month was to write a diary or journal entry in a childhood voice telling either a true memory of Christmas morning from your youth OR a fictional story about a Christmas morning.

We received numerous and varied submissions, and are excited to share the winning stories with you.

Congratulations to...

1st place: Pamela Peters
2nd place: Perry Allen
3rd place: Aimee Graham
Honorable Mentions: Victoria Cole and Shirley Crowder

Enjoy the stories below, and look for them in the upcoming e-book The Write Collection; the book celebrates all the winners from each month's SCWC challenge throughout 2025. It will be released on Dec.22. (Stay tuned to this blog and the SCWC Facebook group to hear news of its release.)

"Dear Diary"

by Pamela Peters

December 25

Dear Diary,

I’m writing this from the living room. I’m sitting right next to the Christmas tree. It sparkles with silver tinsel, and those big, old-fashioned C9 bulbs that glow like candy drops. I know Mom is probably going to ask me to come set the table soon, but I want to remember everything about this morning while it still feels warm and wonderful like the whole house is smiling because it is Christmas.

I woke up before Dad even had the chance to turn the heat up. The floor was freezing, but I wrapped myself in the thick blanket he always tells me to keep on my bed until the house warms up. I didn’t listen today. I slipped on my slippers, tiptoed down the creaky steps, and headed straight for the living room.

The presents were already piled under the tree, like a bright mountain of colors and bows. I got on my knees and read the labels, one for Tara, one for Beth, my sisters. And then I saw the biggest one. It was for my brother Ben. I tried to imagine what was inside. A race car set? A new skateboard? Maybe a robot that actually works this time.

Before I could guess any further, I heard footsteps behind me. The room smelled like pine, the good kind that makes your nose tingle a little. Even, Lucy our miniature poodle, had gifts waiting, her favorite treats, and the ridiculous pink designer dress with the matching leash Mom “just had to get.” Lucy hates dresses, but she always lets Mom put them on her anyway.

My siblings plopped down beside me, still sleepy but grinning. We whispered guesses about what we’d gotten as we waited for Mom and Dad. Finally, they shuffled in wearing their matching plaid robes, Mom’s dragging on the floor and Dad’s tied crooked. Dad carried the coffee mugs, and the smell of vanilla swirled all around us, cozy and sweet.

Mom’s hair was pulled back into a ponytail that kept slipping loose. Tara and Beth dove straight for the presents with their names on them, making their own little piles. But I kept watching the train tracks circling the tree. Dad always turned the train on first—always—and when the whistle blew, that meant we could start.

We all sat on the floor around the glowing Christmas tree, our legs crisscrossed, waiting for the signal that opening could begin. Mom took her first sip of coffee, and then Dad hit the little switch, the train let out its whistle toot-toot.

I remember the very first present I opened: a soft, powder-pink sweater with tiny white buttons. After that, everything blurred together in a whirl of wrapping paper and tape flying everywhere. Beth shrieked when she opened the one thing she had been begging Mom for all year. A portable stereo cassette. Ben laughed so hard at one of his gifts, he almost spit cocoa out his nose.

After presents, Mom made pancakes and bacon. The bacon sizzled so loudly I heard it from the couch, and the whole house smelled buttery and warm. 

Outside, the snow was piled up thick on the porch railings. Dad said that later we could take our new sled to the hill behind the town library. It’s the best one in the whole neighborhood. It’s the kind of hill that makes your stomach jump when you reach the bottom.

I don’t know why, but this Christmas felt extra special. Maybe because we’re all together, or because the house feels softer when the snow is falling, or because Lucy kept barking at her new dress and made all of us laugh. I just want to keep today safe in my mind, like a bright ornament I can take out and look at whenever I want.

For years to come, I want to remember how we celebrated our childhood Christmases... warm house, cold snow, vanilla coffee scent, and all of us sitting close together under the sparkling tree.

Merry Christmas, Diary.

Me.

"The Christmas of Bells"

by Perry Allen

December 25, 2005

It could have been a perfect Christmas morning if it hadn’t been for Great Aunt Sue. She always shows up unexpectedly, and if we are all honest, unwanted.

It all started with a banging on the front door. Six dining tables lined up end to end reached from one side of Mee-maws’ house to the other, where we all crammed in to spend Christmas Morning. Every seat was filled, which is why we all found it strange when the knock on the door came, that and the fact that no one knocked at Mee-maws’ house. Everyone at the table exchanged glances. Who else did we know?

Great Aunt Sue.

Was she loud? Did her voice carry above everyone in the room? Did she squeeze all our faces and smudge her coral lipstick on our cheeks? Yes! But that wasn’t the problem. The problem was what was in her left hand: the big black suitcase.

Her drive from Florida was short, and she never stayed anywhere overnight, so why did she have a suitcase? The nerves sank in. Like always, she had a plan, and that plan would always in some way embarrass me.

“Merry Christmas, everyone,” She scanned the empty plates, “Seems I'm a bit late for breakfast, but I’ve had the greatest idea, and I had to finish getting everything ready.”

Mee-maw jumped up and hurriedly tried to scrape together a plate of what casserole and cinnamon rolls were left behind. 

“No time for that. We need to start rehearsals right away.”

A groan spread quickly throughout the room. One by one, cousins sank deep into their seats.

Elbows went flying from parents with whispers of “sit up, now!” and “stop groaning.”

She had us line up shoulder to shoulder, youngest to oldest, with me wedged in the middle. She opened her suitcase and revealed inside twelve giant handbells tucked in velvet cushions, each hand-painted with tiny characters and bright colors. Swans, birds, geese, drums, and the largest one of all, with golden circles looping all around. Details started fitting together. Painted on the bells were the exact pictures that lined up with the lyrics of Twelve Days of Christmas.

“It’s finally time for my little personal choir to perform my favorite song!”

Clearly, her mind was slipping. Jennifer, who was first in line, piped up to say what we were all thinking, “Umm, Great Aunt Sue, there’s thirteen of us…”

“I’ll sit this one out!” Michael heroically volunteered.

Her grin widened. “Oh no! My little musician, you have the most important job of all. You will play the piano while they sing!”

One by one, everyone grabbed a bell until the only one left was the golden rings, which would be mine. Great.

Aunt Sue got very serious, “You have a very important bell. You’d better sing out!” It only seems fitting that the loudest line comes from the shiest cousin.

The bells grew heavier as morning faded into night. Each time we got to my line, I couldn’t bring myself to sing. Call it embarrassment, call it stubbornness, but I was NOT about to sing out in front of everyone.

My cousins grew impatient with me, but Great Aunt Sue showed no signs of backing down.

“Start from the beginning,” she shouted with the same enthusiasm as when we began.

Everyone groaned. One by one, we turned on each other. Fingers were pointed in my direction, name-calling and choice words were thrown all around. We were on the cusp of an all-out family brawl when a painfully off-pitch noise pierced the room.

Michael had slammed his hands down on the piano, and the noise was deafening! “Dang it! Let’s just get this over with! I want to hear every one of you scream out five golden rings, and then we’re finally going to get some of Aunt Vi’s famous pecan pie.

He started in one last time on the piano, and when we got to my part, everyone collectively screamed "FIVE GOLDEN RINGSSSSS!!!"

You should have seen the grin on Great Aunt Sue’s face! Michael swears he even saw a tear in her eye. She packed up her bells and was gone as fast as she had arrived.

Will the memory of this Christmas haunt me forever? Probably, but as we all sat around the kids’ table feasting on pecan pie, which is famous for a reason, Michael wrapped his arm around my shoulder, and we all smiled. We knew then that this would be a memory we would laugh about every Christmas. 

And for that, we were all a little bit grateful for Great Aunt Sue.

"Christmas 1970 -- Something"

by Aimee Graham

Dear Diary,

Today was the best Christmas ever. You won't believe what happened!!!!! IT SNOWED!!! Mama said she could not believe her eyes and Daddy said a bad word. He said it must be a cold day in H-E-Double-Hockeysticks. I thought Mama would get onto him because we aren't allowed to say bad words and daddy never does but Mama didn't say anything at all. So I told Mama daddy said a bad word and then Daddy said it was not a bad word because of the contest he used it in. I didn't know there was a contest for bad words. I bet if I said it in a contest I would get in big trouble anyway.

Anyway, the important part is it snowed and Mama always said it would never snow at Christmas here since it hardly ever snows at all anyway. And when the weatherman said it was gonna snow, Mama rolled her eyes and told me and Bud not to get our hopes up but we did anyway. We waited all day yesterday. Grandma said the sky sure looked like snow and that made me hope so even more because Grandma is so old.

She should know by now when the sky looks like snow.

Finally just about suppertime, I spotted a snowflake. I had been staring out the window all day because I didn't want to miss it if it finally came and I prayed really hard. I screamed out loud – which made Mama say, "Gracious, don't scream like that!" but I couldn't help it, and Bud got excited too, even though Daddy said it would probably just flurry and quit, and Grandma said it wouldn’t stick.

But it didn't quit and then we didn't have to go to church because Mama told Daddy nobody is getting on those dangerous roads in this snow. So we stayed home and watched it just keep right on snowing. I got worried Santa might not want to get on the roads either, but Bud laughed at me because he said no one is more used to snow than Santa. I watched for his sleigh out the front window till I couldn't stay awake anymore and Daddy carried me to bed.

I tried so hard to stay awake but I guess I didn't because I never heard Santa at all but HE CAME!!! And GUESS WHATTT! He brought me a kitten. Mama said she'd never have an animal in this house but Santa Claus must have changed her mind because she said the kitten can come inside but he has to go outside to do his business because she is not having a litter box to clean out. I don't even care because I didn't think I was even getting the kitten. He's white and he's sooooooo cute and he purrs a lot and he climbed up my socks and so I named him Snowflake because it snowed!

And when I looked out the window the whole yard was white! Mama said we better play in it fast because it would melt and I didn't know what to do because I wanted to play in the snow so bad but I wanted to hold my kitten so bad. But got the old sled out of the basement that he had when they lived in North Carolina before I was born and I really wanted to ride that sled. Mama said that kitten will be here long after the snow is gone.

So we bundled up and Mama put plastic bags over our shoes and we went out and Bud pushed me on the sled down the whole big hill so fast I flew across the street. I was so scared but it was so fun. We tried to build a snowman but he didn't look too great because he got a lot of dirt in him when we picked up the snow.

When we came in, Daddy had a fire in the fireplace and Mama had warmed up fresh socks and blankets in the dryer and she made us hot chocolate. And Snowflake sat on my lap and went to sleep.

And that is why it was the best Christmas ever of all time.

P.S. I hope Jesus isn't mad that I I was happy we didn't go to church. I didn't tell anybody, but Mama says Jesus always knows what's in our hearts anyway.

"It's Christmas!"

by Victoria Cole

December 25, 2004

Well I embarrassed myself so much this morning. The whole family spent the night at Nana and Papa’s on Christmas Eve. The kids all slept in the living room, while all the adults were in the bedrooms. On Christmas morning, I was the first one awake. I’m so excited that I got up and ran down the short hallway where all the bedrooms are and yelled, “It’s Christmas!”

I can’t help it if I was excited for Christmas. I mean I guess I could have waited until later than 5:00 am. 

But why wait when it is the most exciting day of the year? Everyone said I was too old to be screaming down the hall, since I’m twelve years old, but I didn’t know Christmas had an age limit. It’s not my fault they are all old and boring. They should all be full of Christmas cheer like I am.

But now here we are this afternoon and nobody will stop talking about it. Every person that stops by gets told the story of how I ran down the hall and the way they yell “It’s Christmas” every time gets worse and worse makes me sound stupid. And of course everyone laughs each time and has to make some dumb comment about it and I have to fake laugh instead of rolling my eyes like I really want to.

I’m currently hiding in the backroom so that I don’t have to hear about it anymore. Every time I hear someone laugh I swear they are laughing at me. What’s wrong with loving Christmas so much? I just wanted everyone else to be excited also. 

It's the best time of the year, haven't they heard the song? Oh well, I guess I’ll just be excited enough for all of us. No matter how old I am.

"The Year of Underwear Magic"

by Shirley Crowder

Journal Entry: December (a couple of decades ago)

Money is very tight again this year. It makes me think of a pre-teen Christmas I fondly remember as The Year of Underwear Magic.

My brother Tim and I woke up super early and got dressed. (My sister Anne was married and oldest brother Tim was in the Navy). In those days we had to dress before coming out to see our presents so we would look good for pictures! Mom was in the kitchen, turkey in oven, and bacon frying. When Dad finally called us to come in, we ran like crazy to the living room, hearts pounding, eyes wide.

Our things were laid out on the sofa and chairs with our stockings were laid on top of our piles. They were filled but not overflowing. I grabbed mine and found an adorable little stuffed  teddy bear wearing a Santa hat. When I pulled out an orange, its smell was sharp and sweet. I was very excited to find a pomegranate. 

Opening one was like finding a gazillion little presents inside. Then I found the nuts, rough hard shells that I knew we would crack later with the old nutcracker that always pinched my fingers. Then I found the candy! A chocolate Santa, Toblerone chocolate, various flavors of hard candy wrapped in brightly covered foil, peppermint sticks, and shiny chocolates wrapped in multi-colored foil that I thought looked like treasures.

And then came the presents. Socks. Shoes. And … underwear. Really? For a second, I felt disappointed, the kind only a child feels when they are hoping for toys or something flashy. But then I looked at my mom and dad watching us. I began laughing as I put on my new warm soft socks. The shoes were “sensible” school shoes. “I said that they would take me on a lot of adventures in the next year.”

Mom and Dad watched us laugh over our oranges, candy, and nuts, slip on our new socks and shoes. The underwear? Well, that was the magic. They were new. No holes. No stretched-out elastic. Just mine. Brand new! Mom and Dad’s faces lit up with joy at our happiness. But behind that joy was a wish they could have given us more, something brighter and more exciting. It was the kind of look parents have when they

know they have done their very best but still feel the tug of wanting to give their children the world. A mixture of relief that we were delighted, thankfulness that the morning was filled with laughter, and a loving desire, “I wish I could have given you more.”

Suddenly those socks, shoes, and underwear took on a different meaning. They were not just things. They were proof that our parents had managed to give us what we needed, even when money was tight.

We sat down and enjoyed a wonderful breakfast. Then we cracked some nuts together, mom let us have a little chocolate, and we made up silly games. The oranges were the golden prizes for the winners. The nut held secret codes to winning. The socks were our magic armor. And the underwear? That was the funniest gift of all. We kept joking about showing them off by wearing them outside our pants.

Oranges, pomegranates, and nuts in their shell remind me of that Christmas morning. When I put on new socks, shoes, and underwear, I smile.

Looking back, I realize that morning taught me something important. Gifts are not always about extravagance. Sometimes they are about love, care, and practicality. Although that Christmas was lean, we had a mom and dad who made sure Christmas morning was still filled with magic!

Come to think of it, that is the real magic of Christmas, isn’t it? Finding joy in simplicity, learning gratitude, and realizing that love often looks like socks, shoes, and underwear. It reminds me of Philippians 4:11-12 (LSB): Not that I speak from want, for I learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am. I know how to get along with humble means, and I also know how to live in abundance; in any and every circumstance I have learned the secret of being filled and going hungry, of having abundance and suffering need.

That morning was my own lesson in contentment. Even with humble means, we were cared for and loved. And that, I think, is the true gift God gave us that Christmas.

We are so grateful to all of our SCWC writers who create such wonderful pieces each month for us; thank you to all of you who contributed to the December challenge!

Coming on December 22 is the release of The Write Collection, an anthology of all of the monthly writing challenge winners from 2025. (You can also read the winners from throughout the entire year by scrolling through this blog for the challenge winner posts each month.) The Write Collection will be available as an e-book (and free on Kindle Unlimited). Stay tuned for the release right here on the SCWC blog.

And want to participate next year in our monthly writing challenges? We post the challenges in the SCWC Facebook group and on our SCWC Substack "The Ready Writer." The January challenge will be announced this year after Christmas.

We pray that you have a wonderful Christmas season. The entire SCWC staff is blessed by our members and we've enjoyed reading your writing creations all year long.

May God continue to bless you on your writing journey!