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Yevet Tenney

Yevet Tenney has been writing for Progressive Publishing for many years. Her heartfelt, inspirational articles are a favorite with readers.

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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.

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Today the wind is blowing. The yellow and orange leaves swirl over the sidewalks and the green-brown grass. The sky is ice blue with haze of dust that lifts from the horizon like a transparent fog.

The air breathes with the nip of pre-winter weather. The roses are dried brown from the first frosts and the plants left in the garden slump in shriveled clumps.

I feel the need to get in tune with nature and slow the madding pace to a lazy stroll. I am aware that summer passed like a dream and spring was a blur of unremembered events.

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I once heard that “the only thing that is constant is change itself.” The bare tree limbs of winter turn to blossoms of spring and the emerald glory of summer, and then give way to the brilliant dappled orange, red and yellow of autumn.

The sun comes up in a different sky every morning. Nothing stays the same. Our once-golden hair turns silver and our athletic, conditioned bodies start to sag here and there.

The laughter of our children turns from tears back to laughter again. The tiny infants we cuddled in our arms are suddenly toddlers, then kindergartners, then teens. Suddenly they are wearing tuxes and wedding gowns.

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Much has been said over the years about role models and heroes. Children need heroes, people to look up to and emulate, someone to pattern their lives after.

A standard writing assignment in the public school was titled “Who is my hero?” The standard answers included: My mom or dad, the President of the United States or a sports figure.

Now the heroes are rock star bands, cartoon characters, movie stars and sports figures. It seems the more grotesque and immoral a person is, the more he is considered hero material.

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I have been writing my biography for years. Well, not just living it, but trying to put it down in black and white so I would be able to share the wonderful blessings that have come into my life because of the faith I have in Jesus Christ.

With Easter coming, I thought I would share an experience from my memoirs that has given me faith and assurance that there is a loving being who knows us individually and is concerned for our lives.

This incident happened before I came to know Jesus Christ, but it affected my spiritual, mental and physical well-being for a long time. The memory still has far-reaching spiritual significance today.

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Every day the sun rises, filling the sky with pink and blue glory, sending golden light dancing over the dew-kissed or frost-laden world.

The sun climbs higher to reveal towering pines, snow-capped mountains, mirrored lakes, waving wheat fields, sparkling rivers and sun-baked deserts.

Creatures of every kind blink in the new morning light. Deer on spindly legs sip from bubbling mountain streams.

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