“Sitting Around?” Ensign, Feb. 1983, 57
I sat on the floor in my nineteen-month-old daughter’s room, watching her systematically shuffle and sort a pile of index cards she had discovered. She babbled earnestly in a language of her own, absorbed in her activity and oblivious to my presence.
After a few minutes I reminded myself of the projects waiting for me in the other room. “Why are you just sitting around in here?” I asked myself. “You’ve got drawings to finish for the art exhibit, a stack of exams to grade, bills and correspondence to attend to, phone calls to make for Relief Society, not to mention a sink full of dishes. It’s not as if you have nothing better to do!”
I stopped at that last phrase, putting my “sitting around” into clearer perspective. Certainly all my other responsibilities were important, but among all the demands that claimed my time and attention there was none better than enjoying the blossoming of this little one who was eternally bound to me through everlasting covenants.
I leaned back against the toy chest and continued to watch her happy play. Nothing better to do? Nothing better at all! Linda Hoffman Kimball, Chicago, Illinois