Article June 27, 1988 Issue

Thinking about raspberries

It was 9 a.m. I'd been up for three hours with an infant and a toddler. During that time we'd read six books, made "Playdoh" pancakes, walked around the block twice, and snacked half a dozen times. I was exhausted. They weren't. Three hours and counting until nap time. And this day was very much the same as others.

I had thought being a mother at home with children would provide loads of opportunities for private time. Instead I found I was always longing for opportunities just to be quiet. There never seemed to be time to feel close to God.

After lunch they went down for naps. I got the dishes done, and some laundry, and then they were awake. Again the busy activities began, and Jessica and her sister from next door joined us. We were coloring and waiting for the cookies to finish baking when Jeremy walked quietly over to the foot of the stairs and sat down. He looked very thoughtful. I went on helping Jessica make a tent, wiped some gunk off Polly's face, and checked the cookies. After a bit I went to Jeremy and asked what he was doing. There was a rich pause. "I'm just thinking about raspberries," he said.

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