December 13, 2025 
by M. Regina Cram
It was Christmas week 1968, and I was a scrawny pre-teen with too much time, not enough imagination, and a desperate desire to fit in. Ah, the good old days.
One afternoon, I went snooping in my mother’s closet, hoping to locate her secret stash of Christmas gifts for us kids. Sure enough, there it was on the attic stairs, hidden behind a stockpile of ugly, flowered hats. Before I could investigate further, however, I heard footsteps on the stairs below. I quickly escaped to my room without detection.
A few days later, when the house was empty, I crept back into Mom’s closet (I hope my mother isn’t reading this), grabbed the boxes marked for me, and smuggled them into the bedroom I shared with my dopey kid sister. There, I spent a delightful afternoon of juvenile delinquency. I unwrapped the Flower Power diary and lava lamp. I tried on the hip-hugger bell-bottoms and fishnet stockings, even preening in front of the hall mirror for full effect. Then I carefully re-wrapped my loot and returned it to the closet. (Come to think of it, I hope my grandkids don’t read this, either.)
The next day at school, I was a hero. I bragged about my audacity and how I was the only kid in the small town of Swampscott to swipe all my presents. My friends envied my fishnet stockings, and I, a shy kid not accustomed to the limelight, reveled in the fleeting popularity. I knew this would be the best Christmas ever.
It was the worst Christmas ever. When the big morning arrived, I had to feign surprise while my parents and sisters reveled in the exchange of love. I hadn’t chosen love at all; I had chosen myself, and that’s precisely what I got. It was a pretty small package.
I never did it again. Over the years, I came to understand that Christmas cannot be stolen, nor can it be stashed away behind flowered hats and attic stairs.
Think about that first Christmas. It must have seemed an unlikely gift – a squawking baby born to unmarried villagers in a dingy animal barn. But things are not always as they appear. How could the world know that this helpless child would pierce the darkness and defeat the forces of evil for all time?
No, Christmas cannot be stolen. It can only be given away, and God in His tender mercy has done just that. He has given away Christmas, once and for all eternity.
M. Regina Cram is a published author and a parishioner of SS. Isidore and Maria Parish.
