Yevet Tenney

Here’s a short Christmas story about a fictional character named Jimmy. Hope you enjoy!

It wasn’t like I really meant to argue with Mom and run away. Mom’s not the arguing kind, but when she announced we were going to have one more foster kid come to our home, I couldn’t take it. We had seven adopted kids already who came from foster care.

The other day I heard the world famous Mormon Tabernacle Choir sing the traditional Thanksgiving song “Come Ye Thankful People Come.” Tears of gratitude filled my eyes as I thought of the glorious harvest we have gleaned this year.

As I stare at my bank account on the computer using online banking, wondering where my next dollar is going to come from, I can’t help but ask, “Why wasn’t I born in the lap of luxury?” You know the place – where silver spoons and golden plates are plentiful. That place where money is the last thought on anybody’s mind – the minks, diamonds and Mercedes crowd who glitter when they walk down the street.

When I was a little girl, my mother told me stories by the hour. They were wonderful stories that her grandmother had shared with her.

Yesterday as I was sifting flour into my new batch of bread, I smiled as I remembered how my mother taught me to make bread when I was nine years old. She didn’t give me a recipe card with neat measurements and full-color glossy photographs to show me the end result. She simply said, “This is how Grandma taught me to do it.”