T’was the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring. And no wonder. They were still out shopping....

Right up to the last minute, hundreds of homebodies could be seen traversing the mall. Many, who had miraculously discovered at the end of the fourth quarter that Christmas was the next day. But, with a little aggressive driving and a parking spot within 50 yards of the front door, there was still time to search for the perfect gift.

My shopping ended just as the store lights dimmed. But, it was worth the pushing and shoving. This holiday season I knew I had found the present that was just right. Absolutely, without a doubt perfect.

That is until Christmas morning. Then something happened. My husband opened it.

It’s not that I didn’t try. Why, at the department store, I fought my way through cosmetics, fragrances, handbags, hosiery, ladies jewelry, women’s shoes and misses dresses to find the 6-inch-square area devoted to men’s clothing.

Nothing stood in my way. Not even goodwill towards men that I had managed to leave in the mall parking lot. As another gal and I eyed each other at the sale table, all thoughts of peace on earth had been set aside. After all, this was a 50 percent off sale.

Looking back, I wonder if her husband was happy with the stretched-out sweater he got Christmas morning. Certainly mine wasn’t thrilled with the musical earmuffs he received.

Honestly, I don’t know what goes wrong when it comes to finding the perfect gift. Like the year our toddler wanted the must-have doll of the year -- a vinyl cherub named "Baby Alive." And it almost was.

It arrived fresh from Santa on Christmas morning, equipped with dolly bottle, real dolly food and dolly diapers. Within five nano-seconds of opening this present, the two — and only two -- dolly diapers were gone, used-up, totally soppy and soiled. To our dismay, Kleenex tissues folded twice and anchored with scotch tape could not hold up to real dolly diapers -- dolly diapers priced at more than a Third World country’s total income.

But this gift was invaluable. By the end of Christmas day, our 3-year-old had discovered how to care for an infant. First, get a baby-sitter, and, second, go find something fun to do. So, we held, we fed and we changed this demanding Baby Alive. Until the dolly food was gone. Then our enterprising daughter stuffed a raisin down dolly’s throat. And we never resuscitated her.

Looking back at what we paid for Baby Alive, we should have called in the loan officers to practice their first aid.

But, at least there’s one thing we’ve learned from years of Christmas shopping. The "perfect gift" often turns out to be a not-so-perfect gift, and it comes with a nice price tag.

As far as I know, there’s been only one true exception. It happened on the first Christmas, when the perfect present was wrapped in a manger -- God’s ultimate gift of unconditional love and eternal life for the world.

Even now, this perfect gift is still here for us to accept. At no cost. Thankfully, Jesus already paid the price.