The moral in this particular tale is about materialism and envy; apparently as relevant to Christmas in the 1800s as it is today. In this case, a poor mother finally succumbs to the pressure and steals, which she soon comes to regret... Another Christmas Classic by Ali Ribelli Edizioni.
Mary Eleanor Wilkins Freeman was born in Randolph, Massachusetts, and attended Mount Holyoke College (then, Mount Holyoke Female Seminary) in South Hadley, Massachusetts, for one year, from 1870–71. Freeman's parents were orthodox Congregationalists, causing her to have a very strict childhood.
Religious constraints play a key role in some of her works. She later finished her education at West Brattleboro Seminary. She passed the greater part of her life in Massachusetts and Vermont.
Freeman began writing stories and verse for children while still a teenager to help support her family and was quickly successful. Her best known work was written in the 1880s and 1890s while she lived in Randolph. She produced more than two dozen volumes of published short stories and novels. She is best known for two collections of stories, A Humble Romance and Other Stories (1887) and A New England Nun and Other Stories (1891). Her stories deal mostly with New England life and are among the best of their kind. Freeman is also remembered for her novel Pembroke (1894), and she contributed a notable chapter to the collaborative novel The Whole Family (1908). In 1902 she married Doctor Charles M. Freeman of Metuchen, New Jersey.
In April 1926, Freeman became the first recipient of the William Dean Howells Medal for Distinction in Fiction from the American Academy of Arts and Letters. She died in Metuchen and was interred in Hillside Cemetery in Scotch Plains, New Jersey.
Absolutely amazes me that a story written in 1887 about the insecurities and envies women can feel at Christmas looking in at everyone else's seemingly happy homes and holidays can still be so relevant in 2022.
A Stolen Christmas is a short story by Mary E. Wilkins Freeman. I'd place this firmly in the traditional Christmas story camp. If A Christmas Carol is too long for you, switch it out for this. You still get the class differences, the moral lesson, and the Christmas spirit.
A Stolen Christmas unfolds with quiet intensity. Freeman’s restraint is her strength. The theft at the story’s centre is not sensational; it is desperate, almost tender.
Reading it, I felt the emotional weight of deprivation far more than the act itself.
What struck me was Freeman’s compassion. She does not excuse wrongdoing, but she contextualises it so thoroughly that judgement feels inadequate. Poverty here is not moral failure—it is circumstance pressing inward.
The Christmas setting heightens the tension. Charity becomes both promise and rebuke. The holiday’s rhetoric of abundance contrasts sharply with the characters’ scarcity. Freeman understands how cruelty can be embedded in celebration itself.
Reading this, I felt how carefully Freeman balances sympathy and realism. The story never sentimentalises suffering, yet it refuses to harden into moral certainty.
The stolen Christmas is not restored to innocence, but something quieter—understanding—takes its place.
What lingered was the story’s insistence that moral clarity is often a luxury. Freeman asks us not to decide, but to see.