“Saved by a Lemon Pie,” Ensign, Jan. 1989, 68
Our four little children were lined up in the bathtub, full of energy and happy to be stalling their bedtime. And there I was, long past tired, eight and a half months pregnant, and feeling that I had reached the limits of my strength and patience. As the children, full of vigor, attempted to outdo the clown act at the circus, my tired brain almost stopped working. I wasn’t sure I could get all five of us to bed that night.
Over the watery din, I heard a female voice calling my name from the other end of the house. At first I doubted my hearing, but the calling persisted. With the voice came Norene Carroll, my visiting teacher—a happy, jolly, full-of-energy lady—carrying a large, homemade, lemon meringue pie. I was in shock. No one—ever—had made a pie just for me!
Norene set the pie on the kitchen table, rolled up her sleeves, and began to help me unload the tub, dress the children in their nightclothes, and tuck them into bed—all the while talking, laughing, and joking.
When the house was quiet, we chatted for a few minutes, then Norene left. I glanced over at the kitchen table and saw Norene’s lemon pie. I reflected on how this wonderful sister had been an answer to my prayers, how she had lovingly labored over a baked delight, then gathered up her energy, enthusiasm, and love and traveled almost twenty miles to give it all to me.
That evening, I caught the vision of visiting teaching. Our children have since doubled in number to eight, and I still wonder how I’ll get through some days. But I try to be aware of the needs of others and offer the same kind of love that Norene so unselfishly gave to me.