Yevet Tenney

Yesterday I watched my daughter, Angel, ride her horse. She didn’t have a saddle, only a bridle in her hands. The horse galloped and slowed with a slight pressure from her knees and the lift of her hand on the bridle. The horse and rider were one as they flew across the pasture.

I have lived long enough to have traveled down life’s road, to be able to look back and say, “I know how to avoid the dead ends, the dangerous detours and the shortcuts that turn into superhighways to nowhere.”

Last month I shared an article I had written several years ago. The crux of the article was taken from the words of Jeremiah, an Old Testament prophet, who spoke of broken cisterns.In the early days, a cistern was a place capturing and storing rainwater.

Editor’s note: This article was originally published in April 2005. The author has updated it and written a sequel, which will appear in the next issue.

When I was a child, Easter was a big event. We’d wake up early and hunt for the basket. It was a magical time, and the excitement was high. The yard was filled with new green grass, and the crocus and jonquils were in bloom.Everything smelled wonderful.

A few weeks ago, I was sitting on the stairs with my grandson. He is a cute little blond fellow of about 2 years old just learning to talk in full sentences. I was yawning and said, “Seth, I am so tired.”