Yevet Tenney

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.”