Singleton (A Christmas Tale)

Christmas came quietly in the small town of Singleton. There was no hoopla or fanfare and certainly no parades or special visits from Santa. Not even an elf or reindeer was ever known to make an appearance. People in Singleton were reserved. Well, maybe that’s not the word. I think the word is: stingy. They were notorious for being tightwads and cheapskates. The shop owners were too miserly to decorate their establishments and never gave their workers a Christmas bonus no matter how they performed during the run of the year. Not so much as a wreath was seen in a window. Neither did a bell jingle merrily at the opening or closing of a shop door.

The mayor made it an official town policy not to adorn any of the street lamps with garland and no Christmas tree had graced the town square for as long as anyone could remember. The mayor prided himself on keeping everything cost- effective, so not having a Christmas tree meant no ornaments were necessary. No added electric bills were entailed from having a tree lighting ceremony or from keeping one lit during the Christmas season. As a result of the mayor’s policies, the town budget was always balanced, but the town itself was about as unbalanced as a town could get. At a time of year that should be festive and cheerful, the town was ensconced in drabness.

The tone set throughout the town carried over into the homes of most of the residents, too. There were a few exceptions, but most folks conformed to a Spartan ideology. Not many homes indulged in gift giving or Christmas trees. In fact, most parents tried to excuse the lack of Christmas spirit by decrying the holiday as being dreamed up by Pagans. Parents patiently explained to their children that the practice of going into the forest to cut down a tree, drag it inside, and decorate it was ancient and of Pagan origin. They further explained that we were now far more enlightened and didn’t need to participate in celebrations steeped in Pagan roots. No Christmas carols were sung around the fire which never burned a Yule log in the first place.

There was only one fly in the ointment, so to speak. The children by and large weren’t buying into the propaganda. They had learned the truth from the few other children in Singleton who were allowed to celebrate Christmas in style with all of the trimmings, packages, ribbons, bows, and eggnog. A rebellion was brewing. It would put the small stingy town of Singleton on the map.

To be continued...

It began when little Marisa Martin asked to make a paper chain at school during art class. The teacher seemed stumped by her insistence about making it in the first place since it was well known that there would be no Christmas tree at the girl’s house, so therefore, no need for a colorful paper chain. The child was so adamant about it that the teacher relented and allowed her to make one. Marisa smiled as she went about her work and smiled even more as the other children began to congregate around her desk to watch her progress.

“I’m going to make a tree topper,” said Jerry Jackson.

“How about making a star?” asked Marisa.

“Nah, I’m going to make an angel. You want to know why?”

“Why?” asked the art teacher.

“I’m making one because we all need an angel to watch over us,” declared Jerry sagely.

The other kids clapped their hands in delight at that idea. The teacher shook her head in a mixture of wonder and dismay and told the children to return to their seats. Every child began working on some sort of Christmas ornament.

The teacher said, “I don’t know why you are making things for Christmas trees you do not have.”

The children ignored her and went about their work being careful to do their very best on their projects. At the end of the day they took their artwork home to show their stunned parents.

Marisa’s mother stated, “We never have a Christmas tree. You know it’s a total waste of money. I suppose you could hang it in your room, if you’d like, since you’ve done such a nice job on it.”

“Does a tree cost a lot of money?” asked Marisa.

“Well, I’m not sure, but the decorations certainly do.”

“Couldn’t we go out in the woods and cut down a tree?”

“You know where your father stands on bringing a tree into the house, young lady.”

“I know, I know. He says it’s Pagan. I don’t get why. I don’t think it is unless you bow down and worship the tree, Mom.”

Her mother looked uncomfortable, but didn’t say a word. She went back to work in the kitchen.

Marisa took her paper chain and hung it across the top of her bedroom window. She stood back to have a better look at it and thought that it brightened the entire room. She smiled and went off to the kitchen to tell her mother.

“Mom, you have to come see how the chain looks. It’s so pretty.”

“Just a minute, dear, I need to put this meatloaf in the oven and I’ll come to look at it,” she said.

Marisa waited and when her mother finished, she took her by the hand and they went to her room. Her mother had to admit the paper chain added color to the shabby little room. She smiled faintly and went back to the kitchen to make the rest of the dinner preparations.

Marisa came in and asked, “Mom, could we make Christmas cookies on Saturday?”

“I don’t see why, Marisa.”

“Well, I don’t see why not,” said the child.

“Well, I don’t have any Christmas cookie cutters, for one reason.”

“I’ve heard about cookies made to look like candy canes. They don't even need cutters, because you take two strands of cookie dough, one white and one red and wind them together. We could make those, Mom and it wouldn’t cost much at all.”

“We’ll see,”said her mother evasively.

Over dinner that night, no mention was made about Christmas. Marisa didn’t want to get on her father’s bad side.

Little did Marisa know that in homes all over town similar scenes were being played out. The children didn’t seem to be making much headway, but none of them were discouraged.

During recess the next day at school, the children began devising a strategic plan to bring Christmas to the town of Singleton.

To be continued...

Marisa and Jerry were not close friends, but today was different. They came together with a common goal in mind. They met with the others by the teeter-totters and began discussing the Christmas situation. Almost every child had a story to tell about how they’d tried to no avail to bring some Christmas spirit into their homes.

Wendell Davies threw up his hands and said, “Our parents will never give in unless we come up with something big.”

Marisa asked, “Like what?”

“We need to find a way to get on the news or something. That’d get everybody’s attention,”Wendell stated in a rather loud voice.

“Just how are a bunch of little kids gonna pull that off, Wendell?” said Jerry incredulously.

“I don’t know, but there must be some way. We’ll have to think hard on it,” Wendell admitted.

“Well, in the meantime, we should pool our resources and buy a tree to put in the town square,” Marisa said brightly.

Annabelle Ames exclaimed, “That’s it!”

Marisa asked, “What do you mean?”

“It is how we gonna get on TV. You know Mayor Wells doesn’t allow a Christmas tree in the town square. He says it would cost the town too much money, so if we go ahead and do it ourselves, he’ll have a hissy fit. We might even get arrested,”Annabelle declared.

“Yeah,” said Jerry ginning widely. “How will it look to the world if they throw a pack of little kids in the slammer? I can see it on the six o’clock news now.”

“That’s all well and good to think about, but how can we pull it off? Even if we do put all our money together, we probably don’t have enough to buy a tree,” wailed Rebecca Rawlins.

“Oh, stop whining Becky, that’s all you ever do. We might have more than you think, you know and besides we’ve got enough time to earn some cash,” said Marisa.

“Let’s get some paper and a pencil and do the math,” said Jerry.

“Okay, I’ll go get some and we can start adding up what we know we have,” said Annabelle as she turned to walk back into the school.

The kids told more stories while they waited. Marisa told the others that she’d found her mother resistant to even baking a few Christmas cookies. The rest of the children revealed equally depressing accounts.

Annabelle finally returned with paper and pencil in hand. The kids got down to work. When each child had given an actual or estimated figure of cash on hand, Jerry began tallying. Jerry was given the honor of doing the addition because he’d recently gotten an A in math.

It was a long list of numbers and it took Jerry quite a while to do the calculations. At last, he sighed and looked up from the paper with a grim expression.

“Altogether, we have $18.73. That’s nowhere near enough to buy a decent tree and after that we need decorations and lights,” he said with downcast eyes.

“Don’t be a quitter, Jerry. Why don’t we go in the woods and cut down our own tree. It’d be fun,” said Marisa.

“Yeah, right,” whined Rebecca, “We’d probably chop our legs off. Then we’d all need to hobble around on wooden legs like pirates.”

"Don't be such a doubting sissy," chided Marisa.

“Marisa’s right. Stop throwing so many crazy obstacles in the way, Becky. I bet I can cut a pretty big tree down with my hatchet. It would save a ton of money and we could use the rest of what we have to buy some decorations,” Jerry said in a much more cheerful tone.

“Let’s get together on Saturday and see if we can find the prefect tree,” said Annabelle.

“It’s a plan,” said Marisa.

The bell rang that ended recess and the kids filed back inside for the afternoon lessons. The changing of hearts and minds in Singleton would soon be under way.

When Saturday morning arrived, the ground was covered with six inches of fresh snow, but that didn’t prove to be a deterrent to the kids. They met in Jerry’s backyard at nine sharp filled with enthusiasm. The children were dressed warmly in snowsuits, mittens, hats, and boots and were clearly ready to begin on their quest to find the perfect Christmas tree to place in the town square. The snow came to a stop in the pre-dawn hours and it was a lovely day, but still cold and a little bit windy. The kids cheeks were rosy red and their eyes sparkled with excitement.

Marisa asked, “Where should we look?”

“I know just the place, but I need to get my hatchet out of the shed first,” said Jerry.

“I bet your folks don’t know what you’re up to,” said Wendell nervously.

“Nah. They don’t know you’re here either, so be quiet,” Jerry said in a hushed tone that was a notch above a whisper.

The kids looked toward the windows in Jerry’s house, but didn’t see a face in any of them. They stealthily followed Jerry to the shed and watched as he lifted the latch on the door. The door creaked loudly when he opened it and the kids jumped in fright. Jerry switched on an overhead light and grabbed the hatchet. He tried to close the door quietly, but it creaked just as loud as before. Marisa grimaced as though in pain, but said nothing.

“Come with me,” whispered Jerry in a conspiratorial tone as he put the latch back in place.

The children trailed along behind him as he made his way out of the backyard and into the woods. When they were safely out of sight of the house, they began to chat.

“Where are we going?” asked Annabelle.

“Oh, you’ll see. I found a tree last year, but Dad said we couldn’t have one. Big surprise.”

“If it’s good for your house, it’s probably not big enough,” stated Marisa.

“Dad said it was too big for anyone’s house and it’s gotta be even bigger this year. It’s had a whole year to grow.”

“If it’s so big, how’ll we ever get it outta there?” asked Wendell.

Jerry stopped and turned around. “I never thought about that, but we’ll figure out somethin’.”

The kids trudged on through the deep snow in the woods. They encountered some pretty deep drifts, but kept at it for what seemed like a long time.

“How much further? I’m getting’ tired,” wailed Rebecca.

Jerry grinned and pointed. “Look everyone! There it is! Ain’t it a beauty!” he exclaimed.

“Wow!” Marisa said, “It sure is huge!”

“Yeah, do you really think you can chop it down, Jerry?” asked Annabelle skeptically.

“You just watch me,” he answered and took his hatchet from the sheath on his belt.

He began to hack furiously at the base of the balsam. He was a big boy for his age and seemed to be making each chop count, but it was still taking a considerable amount of time and effort. Beads of sweat popped out on his face which was already crimson from the exertion. He paused to study his progress and found that he wasn’t even half-way through.

Wendell said, “Let me chop a while. You look pooped to me, pal.”

Jerry didn’t answer, but handed the hatchet to Wendell. He began chopping at a much more measured pace which proved to be the right strategy. He didn’t tire as quickly and soon the balsam fir was falling to the ground to the cheers of, “Timber!”

After the initial thrill was over, reality set in. It was one big, honking tree and they wondered how on earth they’d ever get it out of the woods through the deep snow. Then there was the matter of setting it up in the town square.

Rebecca began to snivel. “Now what are we going to do?”

“First off, you’re gonna stop that cryin’. We’ll get it out somehow,” declared Jerry.

“Yeah, we’re into the plan this far and we’re not quitting now. We’ve gotta haul it out and use it or we’ll be nothin' but a bunch of no good tree killers. We can do this,” said Marisa with more confidence than she felt.

About that time, they heard the sound of a snowmobile heading in their direction. They thought about hiding or scattering in case it was an adult, but they didn’t have time. As it turned out, it was operated by Isaac Crabtree. He was sixteen and loved to ride fast. When he saw the kids and the tree on the ground, he throttled his machine back and glided to a stop.

“What are you kids up to?” he asked.

They explained the entire situation to Isaac and he listened in rapt attention. When they finished, he sighed and their little hearts sank.

“You know that what you’re planning could send you to jail, don’t you?” he said.

“We want to go to jail,” declared Marisa fiercely.

“Well, you’ll probably get what you want. You want help?” asked Isaac. His face broke into a wide grin.

“Yeah!” they said in unison as though they’d rehearsed the response.

“I got some rope in a compartment under the seat. I’ll tow it out and down to the town square. You’re on your own after that,” said Isaac.

In a matter of minutes, Isaac had the tree tied to his Polaris and they were under way. He towed slowly in an effort not to break off too many branches. The kids were beaming. Singleton was on the way to celebrating Christmas whether they wanted to or not.

None of this was as easy as the children had envisioned, but Isaac’s machine did make the walk out of the woods a little less of a slog. They walked single file and stayed in the snowmobile track. Isaac took a different route to the town square in order to avoid going through Jerry’s backyard. When they finally arrived, the kids thanked him for his help and told him they thought he was not only a genius, but a real hero for helping them bring some Christmas spirit to the town. Then, since he knew it would be too much for them, the older boy decided to help them put the tree in place before leaving. Jerry had to trek back home to procure a few necessary items, like scrap lumber, a handsaw, nails, and a hammer. Isaac offered to give him a ride, but the younger boy declined saying it would raise too many questions.

Another subject came up, though, while Jerry was gone. It involved the matter of lights and ornaments. Marisa said she’d take the money and walk the five miles to nearby Mayfield to buy them. Because people didn’t use them, none of the shops in Singleton carried Christmas decorations of any kind. There was no market for them.

Isaac stated, “It’s going to take you too long to walk there, buy what you need, and then walk all the way back here. Get on, I’ll take you there and we’ll be back here in no time.”

“Okay, that’d be good of you, but why do you care about any of this, Isaac?” Marisa asked.

“Believe it or not, I was a little kid once, too, and I never understood what this weird town had against Christmas. Let’s go.”

Marisa hopped on, held on tight, and they were off for Mayfield using a snowmobile trail through the woods. They pulled in behind a store they'd never heard of called; The Mayfield Branch of Santa’s Workshop and went in. Marisa soon learned that buying ornaments and lights for a fifteen foot tree is expensive. Tears welled up in her eyes as she realized that she didn’t have nearly enough money.

Isaac admonished, “Now don’t you start crying. I’m going to explain this situation to the shop owner. Who knows, maybe you’ll get a donation or something.”

Isaac walked up to the clerk at the check-out and asked to see the owner. Marisa could barely believe how bold he was. She wiped the tears from her eyes and went to stand next to him while they waited. The shop owner came out of the back room which had a sign over the door that read; Santa’s Workshop. He was a kindly looking older man who bore a remarkable resemblance to the real Santa Claus.

“How may I help you?” he asked in a loud, jolly sounding voice.

Isaac explained everything as quickly and precisely as possible.

The old man frowned and rubbed his beard as though he was deep in thought. Then he smiled and said,“Yes, I’ve been hearing bad reports about Singleton for years. They’ve forgotten all about the wonder and beauty of Christmas, but I think we can set things to rights.”

Marisa exclaimed, “You do!?”

“Oh yes, I certainly do, young lady. Let me help you pick out the perfect lights and decorations for the tree. I have some other important plans, too, but first things first.”

Marisa clapped her small hands in delight and Isaac smiled as though he was the Cheshire Cat. The shop owner made the rounds through the store and selected the most beautiful ornaments Marisa had ever seen. Next he selected the lights and stacked them on a nearby counter.

“I don’t have enough money to pay for all these,” stated Marisa sadly.

“It’s on the house. No town should be a Singleton and I’m going to see to it that it changes. I have something else I want to donate. Follow me into my workshop,”ordered the shop owner.

The kids exchanged glances and followed him to the large workshop at the back of the store. When they entered, they gasped at the sights they beheld. In the center of the room, stood the most interesting nativity set the kids had ever seen. The figures were full sized and looked very real, but what really caught their eye was the life sized Santa (who, oddly enough, looked like the man standing before them) kneeling by the manger in worship of the baby Jesus. It was perfect, but Marisa didn’t dare to hope that it was what the man intended to donate.

“There it is. I made this especially for you,” said the man as he leveled his gaze on Marisa.

“Really, but how could you possibly know about me or any of this, Sir?” asked Marisa in utter shock.

“Christmas is the time of miracles, young lady. It always has been. I keep in close touch with someone who knows everything there is to know about the subject. He’s the one who told me to help you. Do you believe me?”

“Yes, I do. I’m not sure why, but I definitely believe you,” she answered and when she looked at Isaac he nodded in agreement.

“Good. Now we must transport everything to Singleton. You can’t take it back on that red snowmobile, now, can you?” said the old man as he gave them a mischievous wink.

“How did you know about that?” asked Isaac.

“Oh, I know about lots of things,” said the old gent. Then he handed Isaac a set of keys, he said, “These go to my truck outside. It’s the antique red and green Ford. Back it up to the door and we’ll load it up.”

“Yes, Sir!”said Isaac.

When everything was loaded in the pick-up, the old man got in behind the wheel and insisted that he knew exactly where he was going. He turned the key and the antique Ford roared to life, so he pulled slowly out of the parking lot and into the street. The kids rode back to Singleton on the snowmobile trail.

Jerry and the others were speechless as they saw what they believed was Santa himself pulling up in the red and green Ford loaded with decorations. Soon Isaac and Marisa arrived on the snowmobile acting like they knew the old man. The kids began unloading the truck, as Santa watched and gave instructions. All the lights and ornaments were piled next to the fir tree that was still on the snow-covered ground.

“How will we ever manage to get this tree off the ground?” asked Jerry worriedly.

The old man said, “Just watch me, kids.”

He placed a chubby finger beside his nose and nodded at the huge tree. A swirl of sparkling snow appeared from out of nowhere and when it cleared away, the tree was standing upright and was decorated from top to bottom. It was very odd, indeed, since the wind had died out completely over an hour ago. The kids gasped audibly and exclaimed, “Wow!”

The old man smiled and said, “Now let’s put the nativity in place, children.”

Wendell asked, “Who are you?”

“My name is Nicolas Saint, but you may call me Nick,” he answered.

Rebecca said, “You must be Santa Claus to have that kind of magic.”

“Oh, child, the world is filled with magic, if you know where to look for it,” he replied brightly.

The children looked at the old man in wide-eyed wonder. He simply smiled and said, “Let’s get to work.”

Go to work they did. It was not an easy task lifting and toting the life-sized figures of both people and animals, but the children worked together. They huffed and puffed until everything was set up to the old man’s specifications. Then they all stood back to take in the entire scene. It was lovely, but there was still one big problem. There was apparently no way to plug in any electric cords.

Marisa said flatly, “There’s no way to light the tree or the star over the nativity.”

Again, the old man laid a finger beside his nose, nodded, and another massive swirl of snow appeared which seem to consume the huge Christmas tree as well as the entire nativity. When it disappeared, to the amazement of the children, both the tree and the nativity were lit. They’d all worked so hard that they hardly noticed it was getting dusky. Now with the brightly shining lights it hit them that they probably should be getting home.

Nicolas Saint asked, “Are you all sure you’d be willing to go to jail to prove your point?”

“Yes, we are surer than ever,” stated Jerry as the acting spokesperson for the group.

“It will be as you have said. You are brave children. This world needs more like you. The Christmas Spirit will win this battle and Singleton will change for the better because of you. Now, I must go. I have a lot of work left to be done,” said Nick.

He walked to his antique truck and got in. When he turned the key in the ignition, he vanished along with the truck.

“He really is Santa Claus,” whispered Rebecca.

“I think he’s more than that, if you ask me,” said Marisa firmly.

“Who do you think he is then, Marisa?” asked Jerry.

“I think he is Saint Nicolas. You know, the real one from long, long ago, the one who worships Jesus. He looks just like the figure in the nativity,” she answered.

“That must be because he carved him,” stated Isaac Crabtree uncertainly.

“Yeah, there’s no way it could be Saint Nicolas. He died ages ago,” declared Wendell.

“I say it’s him. It’s a Christmas miracle and I don’t think it’s over yet,” Marisa said.

“Well, it could be true. Ordinary people don’t do the things he did and then vanish,”said Isaac.

“We’d better be going home before our folks get worried,” said Annabelle.

About that time, a police car pulled up and the constable got out. He asked, “What is this and who is responsible for it?”

Jerry began to stammer, “I,I, I guess, I am, Sir. I cut the tree down.”

“I don’t think you did all this alone. The rest of these kids were in on it, too. I’ve been receiving reports about this illegal activity all afternoon. One came from the mayor. He is mad as a wet hen about this. I’m afraid I’m going to have to take you kids in and call your folks,” the constable said.

“Put me in jail and let the other kids go home,” said Jerry gamely.

Isaac Crabtree said in exasperation, “Do you plan to put these little kids in the slammer? You should be ashamed. The mayor should, too. What kind of public servants are you?”

“I plan on putting you in there with them, Wiseacre. The mayor just wants to teach them a lesson, that’s all. Kids need to learn to obey the town ordinances. Another car will arrive in a minute and we’ll be off,” he said with a sneer.

“What will happen to the Christmas tree and the nativity?” asked Isaac.

“It’ll be gone before daylight,” said the constable with a note of triumph.

“We worked hard on this,” said Marisa.

“Well, it was a wasted effort on your part. Where did you get the money to squander on this, anyway?” asked the constable with a wave of his arm.

“It didn’t cost us a cent,” Marisa replied.

“This stuff doesn’t come cheap, girlie. Where’d it come from?”

“It came from Saint Nicolas,” she said flatly.

The constable laughed and said, “I bet your story will change once you find yourself sitting on a jail cot.”

The other police cruiser arrived and the kids were loaded in and taken to the jail house. Little did the constable and mayor realize that the magic was only just beginning.

After the short ride to the jail, the kids were ushered into the two stark looking cells, one for the girls and one for the boys. There wasn’t a shred of Christmas on display in the entire place. The kids sat down dejectedly to wait in complete silence.

The constable said sternly, “Your dinner will arrive shortly, but for now sit here and think about what you’ve done while I go call your parents.” He turned to walk away, but paused for a moment for an added touch of drama. He wheeled around and declared, “You’ve accomplished nothing, nothing at all. The mayor is furious and your parents will pay for the cost of this. I do hope you’re satisfied.” Then he marched out like a man on a mission.

The children remained quiet for a few moments; then Isaac Crabtree broke the miserable silence. He said, “Well, I did tell you that you’d get your wish. I didn’t plan to be here with you though, but here I am.” Then he began to laugh.

Jerry said, “This isn’t funny, Isaac. Our folks are gonna be so mad.”

“Maybe they’ll be mad at the cops, not us,” said Marisa.

“I don’t know,” Rebecca said, “My parents are big on obeying the law. I bet they’ll side with the cops. We did break a town whatcha’m’ callit.”

“Yeah, but some laws aren’t right, are they?” asked Wendell.

“No, but the law’s the law,” said Isaac.

“What are we gonna do?” said Annabelle with a quaver in her voice.

“I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do,” said Marisa defiantly. “If I’m in jail for trying to bring the Christmas spirit to Singleton, I’m going out swinging.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” asked Jerry.

“I’m gonna sing every Christmas carol I can think of as loud as I can and see how they like it,” she stated.

“Count me in. If we have to be here, we might as well have some fun,” Jerry said.

The others quickly agreed. They decided to sing God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen first. The jail was soon filled with the sound of young voices singing carols at the top of their lungs. They sang song after song and sang so loud it was heard by St. Nicolas or Nicolas Saint (whichever name you choose) who was miles away. Distance is no barrier to the one who sees you when you’re when you’re sleeping and knows when you’re awake. He made an anonymous phone call to the Mayfield Gazette and the local TV news called WMRZ and tipped them off about the story going on in Singleton. It wasn’t long before they sprang into action.

The kids were served dinner, but refused to eat it. They continued singing. Soon their parents arrived to take them home and the media showed up a couple of minutes later. The constable was flummoxed by the turn in the developments and would’ve liked to be on a far-away tropical island instead of fielding questions from irate parents and an extremely inquisitive news media. He was certain that they were out to paint him in the worst possible light. He tried in vain to get them to leave and finally called Mayor Wells to demand he come answer their questions about the town ordinance banning a Christmas tree in the town square. It was a whale of a fiasco and he didn’t intend to bear the brunt of it alone.

When Mayor Wells walked in, he was hit with a barrage of angry questions. He held up a hand to silence what was becoming a mob and said, “I want these children released at once. Perhaps, I have been too harsh on them for breaking the town ordinance, after all.”

The constable made a move to go to the cells in back, but the media followed close on his heels like a pack of bloodhounds with their nose on the scent of news. WMRZ’s camera crew had their cameras rolling. The constable threw his hands up in defeat and said, “Okay, you’ll get your show!”

He turned the key in the lock of the first cell and ordered, “Okay, everyone out.”

The children didn’t budge. He opened the other cell, but the kids didn’t move. He said, “Come on, everyone out. You’re free to go home now.”

Marisa said,“We’re not leaving. We’re here to stay until both the tree and nativity is back in the town square where they belong.”

The constable said, “I can’t do that, kids. There’s a law against it.”

“Then tell Mayor Wells to change the law,” Marisa stated.

As the cameras rolled, reporters asked the kids a long list of questions and clearly enjoyed the answers. They obtained enough fodder to last throughout the rest of the Christmas season. This story had the potential to go nationwide and they knew it. It could make their tiny TV station famous and Singleton infamous which was not lost on Mayor Wells.

He pushed his way through the crowd to address the children. “There’ll be no charges pressed kids. Go on home with your parents and I’ll forget this matter.”

The kids laughed and began singing Silent Night. Then they sang O Come All Ye Faithful. The mayor’s face was a deep shade of scarlet. He was embarrassed and angry, but kept his anger in check. When they finished singing, Jolly Old Saint Nicolas, a peculiar thing happened. In the midst of the girl’s cell, a cold wind blew in from out of nowhere and a swirl of snow. Out of the swirl of snow, St. Nicolas appeared and stood next to Marisa. The crowd became deathly quiet. St. Nicolas opened the pack on his back and the scent of balsam mixed with Christmas cookie spices filled the jail. Then he took a handful of glittering snow from it and threw it into the air. It settled down over everyone assembled there and filled them with an odd, yet indescribable joy.

Then he spoke. “I am proud of these children. They have taken a stand to defend Christmas against those who’ve lost the Christmas Spirit and it has cost them much. They know that Christmas is what you make it. You can make it a commercial, Christ-less, pagan event or you can make the Christ-child the focal point of everything. I am St. Nicolas and I’m here to tell you that I am a worshiper of the Christ. I am here to declare him Lord. It was not and is not my intention to draw hearts away from him, but to be his servant. I deliver gifts to children all over the world in honor of him. It is my prayer that the people of Singleton would be honest with themselves for once and admit that the root cause of their negative attitude toward celebrating Christmas is stinginess. It has little to do with me and it’s certainly not because they are trying to honor the Christ-child. We all know that he gave the world the greatest gift of all. I want you all to think about this.”

After that speech, he turned to the children and produced a gift for each of them from the bag he carried. A hush was over the jail that night as the cameras continued to roll. Parents began weeping softly. The constable had tears rolling down his cheeks and the mayor wailed.

St. Nicolas continued passing out gifts until everyone had one. Then he placed a finger beside his nose and vanished. Sleigh bells were heard and people ran to the door to view him as flew low over the town. Everyone hurried to follow him and saw him spreading his glittering snow everywhere he went and especially over the town square. When the snow cleared, the entire town looked like a scene from a Currier and Ives Christmas card. The Christmas tree was standing in the town square with its lights brightly shining and the nativity was back with its star shining on top.

The children cheered and clapped their hands. The mayor was momentarily at a loss for words, but quickly recovered. He stated, “I, hereby, rescind the town ordinance banning the Christmas decoration of the town square. I was wrong. I am sorry. Christmas has come to Singleton. Let the celebrations begin.” He led off another round of carols with O Holy Night, as the cameras continued to roll.

That night the children won their battle for Christmas with a little help from St. Nicolas and the magic of the season. They learned that Christmas miracles still happen and the adults recovered something precious they’d lost along the way. The news media got what they wanted more than anything else that Christmas. They had a big story, but when they viewed the footage, St. Nicolas was nowhere to be seen. Singleton was now on the map. Because of the change, it was voted: The Town with the Most Christmas Spirit in the small town category.

Merry Christmas! I hope you've enjoyed my gift to you this year. It is my prayer that God will bless you richly as you celebrate the birth of the Christ.