The Gift of Avery

Linda Requard Hatcher

A bright shaft of sunlight welcomed me to the window and warmed my face. Spring blossoms peeked out of their buds. What a lovely April day. A car door slammed, and I charged to the front door and stretched it wide to catch the first glimpse of my daughter, Becky, and her husband, Ferris. And, when my daughter turned the corner of the house, my arms flew open.

“Hurry!” My feet danced in place. “I can't wait another minute.”

The flannel bundle Becky bore wriggled in her arms, and my heart did a flip flop. A sigh escaped my lips as my chest rose and fell with grandmother pride. A fifth grandchild… Avery Lynn. Hadn't I relocated near my daughter for this moment? Between a newborn and an active toddler, she needed me. After being widowed, I longed to be useful.

Avery's tiny features mirrored those of her mother's as a babe. So sweet… But when I lifted her higher and the blanket slid to her shoulders, my breath caught. Her skull was like a coconut—too small and underdeveloped. The top of her head appeared darker than her face and across her forehead ran a deep ridge.

The news hurled me onto my bed in prayer. I grabbed my Bible and thrust it open.

Oh dear Lord, what is wrong with my precious grandchild?

Craniosynostosis, a condition gripping our baby girl and challenging her future, served daunting prospects. What was craniosynostosis? Avery had no soft spot (fontanel) on her head, and the skull sutures over both her ears were fused shut.  Without surgical correction, her growing brain would have too little room to expand, risking brain damage and disfigurement.

Becky and Ferris traveled to a consultation with doctors at Arkansas Children’s Hospital. The news was heart-wrenching as the specialist described a long, extensive surgery which the baby would not be strong enough to undergo until she was ten months old. A blood transfusion from the mother would be necessary, and there would be steep risks involved in opening the cranium.

The news hurled me onto my bed in prayer. I grabbed my Bible and thrust it open.

God hear my cries for help…

My gaze fell to a verse in Proverbs 10:6 (NIV). “Blessings crown the head of the righteous.” The voice of my Father brought comfort. With this specific promise in mind, I referenced Scriptures on the word head. I combed verses, and they seemed to leap off the pages and into my believing heart.

Without surgical correction, her growing brain would have too little room to expand, risking brain damage and disfigurement.

Jesus was crucified on a hill, Golgotha, shaped and named for a skull. He was pierced in his head as His captors forced a crown of thorns to his brow. Oh, how Jesus suffered in his head! But wasn’t that the point? He suffered for my peace and for Avery’s healing. As I prayed, the Lord’s presence seemed to cloak me, and I envisioned baby girl in some sort of white turban God would provide. A turban like the Levitical priests had worn. And when I stood, the burden I carried for Avery rolled from my shoulders. God took my fear and heartache and made them His own while promising me future joy over her healing.

The first miracle came when we heard about a support group for parents of children with these birth defects. The group, National Craniofacial Association, offered testimonials from other families faced with my granddaughter’s same heartbreaking condition. Again and again, the name of a medical group in San Antonio at the university hospital drew my attention. This team was seeing great success with an endoscopic alternative to the full open dome cranial surgery. I read with keen interest about this team headed by Dr. David Jimenez, a distinguished neurosurgeon who was operating on young infants using endoscopy before the fused bones had time to harden. This endoscopy was far less intrusive to my baby’s brain.

My children and I investigated the possibility of Avery seeing this San Antonio group of specialists. With approval from my son-in-law’s insurance company, a few photos of Avery, and medical records, she had her first appointment and was approved and scheduled for this corrective procedure. How faithfully our Father God cared for Avery and our family.

We received a generous care package from Cranio Care Bears, a loving network of families with like challenges. We learned that the Cranio Facial Association would help underwrite our traveling expenses to and from the hospital, for the initial surgery and follow-up care. Friends from St Andrew's Church in Little Rock organized a garage sale to defray our expenses in going so far from home.

One of my former pastors who now leads Grace Fellowship Church in San Antonio learned of our upcoming surgery. His wonderful church folks readied meals for us and prepared to babysit Avery’s three- year- old big brother during her surgery and hospital stay. Ronald McDonald House, located near University hospital, welcomed us with little expense.

 “Blessings crown the head of the righteous.”  

On and on, provisions presented themselves as we walked out this adventure. Our own Fellowship Church in Arkadelphia encouraged us with prayers and traveling money. God blessed every detail of our Avery’s medical journey. The first time I laid eyes on my little granddaughter waves of emotion had swept me because I didn’t know how my daughter and her husband would provide for the baby’s medical needs. God astounded us.

The musical mobile above the hospital crib played a soothing tune while little Avery recuperated in the hospital. She smiled and cooed at the mobile, and I wept. Thanks to our wonderful Father's grace, Avery had a bright future and hope.

Months have passed. One-year-old Avery toddles forward, her plastic helmet sporting a red gingham bow that matches her seersucker sundress.

“Come on, baby, walk to me. You can do it.”

Thank you God, she has this sturdy headgear during this season when she daily takes falls like other children her age.

Becky strides through the door to retrieve her child.“Only three more weeks with the helmet, Mom. Can you believe it?”

“Well, yes… I can sweetheart. I saw that white turban when I first prayed for God's help, and while it was sometimes difficult hanging on to His promise, the Lord has crowned Avery's head with blessings just like He said He would.”

While I didn’t realize this would mean three different helmets during her months of cranial expansion, my grandbaby’s head is now shaped and lovely.

Sovereign Lord, my strong deliverer, you shield my head in the 
day of battle. Psalm140:7 (NIV)

 Listen for His whispers...

Are You Struggling and Can’t See the End?

“You just don’t understand!  I'm not the schooly type.  I'm the cowboy type, Mom.”

My son was nine. We had worked phonics and spelling rules, grueling work for my son battling with dyslexia. Fingers of sunlight filtered through the French doors of our classroom and beckoned my son to come and play. 

I scrutinized the splash of light across his laboring pencil, and his head shot upward, freckled nose following the light like a pointer-beagle targeting a coon. Exasperation darkened his face. He squared his slim shoulders and shook his silky, blond bangs. 

“Can I go out and play, Mom?” At the clear response written on my stoic face, he tried harder. “You just don’t understand!  I'm not the schooly type.  I'm the cowboy type, Mom.”

I couldn’t help myself. I laughed, shook my head, and drank in his earnest eyes. Didn’t this child sleep in six-guns and boots? What would I ever do with this boy? 

Most days this would not have been funny. My heart cried for my son who had to work hard to grasp academics. He was quite accomplished at anything hands-on, and his verbal skills were high. But written words and spelling dodged him at every turn. Obscure, they were burrs under his saddle, trying to steal the glory of each and every day. I can’t remember, but knowing my son and his ability to out-sell a charlatan, I probably allowed him to escape outdoors.

The fruit of adversity is the accomplishment of a goal which dangles, elusively, just out of our grasp… But its fruit is sweeter than any other when breakthrough snaps it from the branch.

Seven years later on a nippy, December morning, this same son strode into the Department of Public Safety to take his written driver’s exam. More than six feet tall, he towered above me. I smiled when I spied his polished-to-a-shine western boots, and they reminded me of a younger cowboy.

I wrangled with what seemed like abandonment when I pivoted to leave him— alone—for his first all-important written exam. Wasn’t this the son who grew sick and sleepless at the thought of test taking?

The driver's test was the first big hurdle into the adult world, and my anxiety level was as high for myself as it was for him. I winked at him and squeezed his nervous hand.

 "You'll do fine. I'll be praying for you..."

An hour later, I returned. His face was solemn as his eyes met mine from his seat across the room, and my heart lurched. Was this the face of good news? Slowly, his features stretched into a relaxed smile, and he stood and stepped the distance between us. Reaching my side, he was breathless with excitement. 

“I passed.”

All the years of letters dancing on a page for my son flashed before my eyes. His tears and endless ways of trying to get out of schoolwork flooded my memories. I could shut my eyes and still hear the droning of the cassette recorder the past weeks—playing the driver’s handbook over and over into the night. This is a day I will hold in my heart forever. A milestone, born of struggle—attained. We’d found a learning style that worked.

The fruit of adversity is the accomplishment of a goal which dangles, elusively, just out of our grasp… But its fruit is sweeter than any other when breakthrough snaps it from the branch.

What adversity do you face this day?  How are you coping in the middle? Or, are you at the end of your long struggle and have a word of hope for us?

When we don't know where to go, His whispers lead us...

Do You Ever Feel Like the Last Laugh is on You?

After thirty-six years of marriage, six children, and twenty six years of homeschooling, I finally understand. Who would have thought after all the play dough I've mixed, bread dough I've baked, and kid character dough I've shaped, I was the ball of clay? I've been the big mix of the Master Potter all along.

I remember mornings I rummaged blindly for the coffee pot, desperate for that single cup to start my engine. My boys would someday provide for families, so I pushed myself into each new day before the sun was up. Could the Lord have been making a morning person out of me? I never was, you know, but now I relish the quiet moments before sunrise.

Many days I was tempted to switch on the television and self-medicate from all my responsibilities. But, I wanted my kids to remember their mom as industrious. Could God have been protecting me from hours of wasted time and the squandering of my gifts? Self-discovery happened, instead. I love to write.

Somehow amid all the giving and teaching going on at my house, God is smiling.

Once I made a chart for the children to instruct them in the disciplines of keeping house. One of the little guys said, “Mommy, your bed isn't always made, and your room isn't always clean.” Ouch! While I did my best to teach the children consistency and good habits, God nudged me. Grace is a lovely, undeserved thing. 

Every time the kids took on a project—there I was—smack in the middle of it. I endured to spark their creativity, but discovered talents I possessed; I would not have endeavored so hard for myself.

Then there were all those precious moments when their elbows were on the table and they rested their faces in their chubby, little hands, and said…“I can't.” Who knew I would learn motivational secrets as effective as Dale Carnegie?

I rehearsed scriptures with the children time and again, hoping to build their characters strong and sound: Griping makes us discouraged, honey. A just man falls down seven times, but he gets up. A fountain can't bring forth bitter and sweet water, baby. Ask and He shall give. Could the Lord have been training me?

Grace is a lovely, undeserved thing. 

What about this new season? I still wear a high school teacher homeschooling hat, but I’m also a grandparent and babysitter on call. I’m my mom’s caregiver. I’m an addicted to the core writer. Watch me juggle like a Barnum and Bailey Circus clown. Watch my keyboard as it clicks, documenting my heart. I may have dinner in my teeth, a diaper pail running over, homework to check, deadlines to meet, and an elderly mother asking me to program the DVR for Dancing with the Stars, but I am still growing up.

Somehow amid all the giving and teaching going on at my house, God is smiling. He’s looking down upon my home and sizing up the job. Then in laughter and delight, He’s custom making me fit it—just a little shaping at a time.

Do you ever feel the last laugh is on you? How is God gently molding your life? Certainly, I am not the only one.

Remedy for Burnout: Yield, Who Brings It?

“Why do you homeschool, Mrs. McCauley?” The school principal’s gaze ignited and blazed a tunnel straight through to my mother’s heart.

A thousand replies flitted through my brain, but only one surfaced. “W-Well, because I enjoy my children.”

Her blue eyes softened to a tender gray. “Now, that’s the answer I wanted to hear. You’ve passed my test.” Her mouth spread into a warm smile, and her heels clicked away.

My children were young, and I was clueless. Days filled with nature walks and finger painting diminished and academics became harder.

 You will reach your bountiful blessing because of His faithfulness. Your land will yield the fruit of His bountiful harvest because of His grace.

How do you keep it together when all your plans for a group activity end in chaos? The older my children became the more difficult it was for me to enjoy them sometimes.

Like the day the table was covered with individual laminated charts representing numbers one through one hundred, homemade and colorful. Pennies, dimes, nickels, quarters, and fifty cent pieces were neatly piled in small groups in the center of the table. The kids and I would count, skip count, talk about money denominations, and enjoy one of those shared times when work could be done as a group.

Then it started.

A squabble. A complaint. A tattle.

Often when I’d try fun learning it would end in disaster. Frustrated, I’d call the whole exercise off and send the children to do not so fun seatwork.

I had a faithful heart to homeschool. I wanted to do it right. But at the end of the day—many days—all that was leftover were honest conversations between God and me. My energies were spent and my emotional coffers empty.

Especially when they became teens and our family faced the challenges of outside influences and poor choices. Don’t kid yourself. They will make poor choices. Some more than others. But it is the same with us all.

Many messages to homeschooling parents are aimed at teaching us to be yielded servants to our families, rather than the understanding that Jesus is the Ultimate One, who is faithful to bring the yield.

The opposite of my frustrated effort was grace. Grace. When we’re frustrated, we’re trying to make something happen on our own. Grace does not make us a debtor. Grace says the payment is paid in full. How to parent with grace? Only by total abandonment.

Many messages to homeschooling parents are aimed at teaching us to be yielded servants to our families, rather than the understanding that Jesus is the Ultimate One, who is faithful to bring the yield.

Oh, from my earliest days of homeschooling, I wanted to be faithful, but I couldn’t be faithful enough. He is. I cannot be gracious enough. He is. I cannot always hold onto my happiness, but He holds on to me.

The biggest remedy of all for burnout is to grasp the understanding that you will never be enough for your children. Oh, you want to be. Everything they say and do feels like a reflection of your own personal worth. But in reality, that isn’t true. You are imperfect and so are your children.

Ps. 85:12-13 (New Living Translating) says: “Yes, the Lord pours down his blessings. Our land will yield its bountiful harvest. Righteousness goes as a herald before Him, preparing the way for his steps.”

Allow me to encourage you. You will reach your bountiful blessing because of His faithfulness. Your land will yield the fruit of His bountiful harvest because of His grace.

Verse thirteen speaks of Jesus, the Righteous One, who will step in and save the day. He did.

And it doesn’t matter how many mistakes you make or how many your children will make. If we’ve chosen Him, He is enough.

When God Whispers

Remedy for Burnout: Diligence Now & Blessing Later

Joanna, a five-year-old orphan and blind, was no doubt my daughter. She thrived like a watermelon seed planted in my heart and growing.

The paternal and maternal love for her was enormous, though we’d never met. God grafted her in our hearts, not unlike a pregnancy, and we anticipated her arrival.

But Joanna’s adoption story is for another time. This story is about her education. I’d never been around anyone blind. I’d never considered how they learned, let alone how to teach someone with visual impairment. How does one say—terrified?

The journey to parenting began months before our daughter came home from the Philippines. If I was going to homeschool Joanna along with her siblings, I had much to learn.

I called the state and spoke with advocates for the blind. One suggested teaching the Braille alphabet with a six cup muffin pan and ping pong balls. Another recommended a screen board. A rectangle of cardboard with door screening stretched over it and stapled down. This way, when anything was written or drawn over the screen the paper was perforated. When the paper was turned over, raised lines revealed what you wanted to show. Joanna would enjoy coloring because a simple page of any design could be converted to raised lines. Still other suggestions were about mobility. We bought a hard shell baby buggy for Joanna to push, and it became a buffer for her little body between walls and furniture.

Every time I surveyed the whole apple of Joanna’s education,

it overwhelmed me by immeasurable proportions.

Fear gripped and battled to conquer. Even as we traveled to the Dallas airport to meet our small daughter, the war raged. She cannot see. She doesn't speak English. Oh my. What are we doing?

We rehearsed our Tagalog, her native language. And, we had a cassette recording to explain simple things to our child in her own tongue. Ready or not, there we were. And, what happened at the airport?

Love conquered fear. Young Joanna captured our hearts and held us captive.

One year and four surgeries later, our English speaking, Philipino daughter was ready for kindergarten. I received word about a ministry in Plano, Texas. This ministry transcribed ABeka Christian School curriculum into Braille for sighted parents of blind children and for blind parents teaching their sighted children. The Braille, loaned by grade levels, was mailed to private schools and homeschooling parents around the country, and it just so happened the curriculum was an older version of ABeka. The print copies were no longer available. But, we owned the older versions of these books, having used them with our other children. Joanna and I had books that matched.

Joanna delighted in learning. We acquired a Brailler along with a Braille watch, slate and stylus, and other essentials for the blind from a precious Christian family whose older, blind sister had passed away. So, where to start?

When first beginning our homeschooling journey, we were told the years 

tell what the days never know. This speaks of diligence. 

Being faithful with what is small.

We dove into school that year, and I quickly discovered Joanna learned like any other child. She was a visual learner. (One whose eyes were her fingers, mind you, but visual all the same.) She delighted in learning and was quick. Often her peals of laughter were like bells tinkling through the house. Why had I been so afraid? God certainly knew me better than I knew myself, didn’t He?

There came a point in time when Joanna sailed with her Braille, and I no longer had to visually keep up. I presented, and Joanna learned. Just like any other child.

The ministry in Plano went belly-up two years later and closed its doors. I received a call asking if I’d like to house the Braille and be the lending library for other homeschool parents around the country. Living in a one hundred-year-old -house with walk-in attics had its advantages. One Abeka reader when stacked in volumes often equaled my height. There was plenty of room for the hordes of boxes. The day those books began trickling into our care was like Christmas. And for years, we served others while having every grade level we needed for Joanna. Oh, the goodness of God!

When first beginning our homeschooling journey, we were told the years tell what the days never know. This speaks of diligence. Being faithful with what is small. Every time I surveyed the whole apple of Joanna’s education, it overwhelmed me by immeasurable proportions. But being diligent to take a day at a time and to enjoy the learning process and my child paid off.

After turning eighteen, Joanna tackled the local high school where she received an honors diploma. From there, she navigated college. Joanna, a bright and lovely child, is now a married woman and mother.

But today we target diligence. God provided everything Joanna needed to succeed. One bite at a time…

How do you eat an elephant?

We are told in Colossians 2:6-7, that as we have received Christ, we should walk in Him, rooted and built up, established in faith and abounding in thanksgiving. Do we realize what this means when our efforts are discouraged, when burnout consumes us, or when quitting seems a better alternative?

Where there is a root, there's hope for a new beginning and hope for renewal. If you were once rooted, built up, and walking in faith with Christ to homeschool your children, you can be again. Having homeschooled now for more than twenty-five years, I can assure you. The big pay-offs come from day to day diligence coupled with the fact that Jesus paves the way. He’s always a step ahead, ready to love you and support your endeavors. So, dust off and begin afresh. He is new every morning.

Joanna McCauley West

When I told Joanna about this article, she was eager for you to hear her story of God's goodness. Once, she was a whisper from God in our ear;

forever, she is a blessing.

 

Listen for His Whispers...

Remedy for Burnout: Enduring for the Eternal

God is joking, right? Move away from our state and to an uncertain destiny just because of homeschooling?

We had to question what God had told us about homeschooling our children back when our oldest was five. The decision hadn’t been easy then, but God placed a knowing inside us that it was the right thing to do.

There will always be conflicting points of view and interpretations on how to best handle situations, but your commitment to that one thing you know God spoke to your heart will see you through. When burnout hits, if our motivations are built 

and based on God’s unchanging nature, we cannot fail.

Backed into a corner, we had to reconsider. Two things transpired to make us question whether we should stay in our home of twelve years. We had adopted a son who was hearing impaired. The size of a three year old, he labored through a church preschool program and private speech therapy services, but these situations held at bay decisions about public school until his adoption was finalized. The other consideration was our oldest biological son. The state we lived in required second graders to pass an exam, and this child lagged behind in reading—not that unusual for boys his age. But, there was one shot at passing the test, and he didn’t.

The law was the law. If your child had a special need in any area, then the parent was required to be certified in that field to home educate. I had to be certified in both reading specialty and hearing impairment to homeschool two of my children, and I wasn’t.

The local school district complicated matters by telling us they would not hire someone certified in hearing impairment. We went to battle. We knew our rights. Going to the highest levels to insist the schools provide for our adopted son, we worked to change minds and hearts, but it did no good. We spent so much time in war there was no time to spend with the children, especially our hearing impaired son, who had desperate needs.

Father, tell us what to do. We put the house on the market, and it didn’t sell. Is this your answer, Lord?  We could leave our home and move fifteen miles across the state line and homeschool each of our children in freedom. What a temptation! We prayed harder.

“For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”

2 Corinthians 4: 17-18 (NKJ)

One day, my husband came home with an answer. A good steward of God’s wealth and blessing maintains his material belongings in a responsible manner. The conflict? The Bible also says, that the planet is our temporary residence, and that we should make decisions based on what is eternal rather than on what is temporary. What did we know for certain? Our two biological children and two adopted children were God given. To live an authentic example of relationship with God was our highest responsibility to them. And the biggest lesson life had taught us? God is most concerned with what will last.

Money? It comes and it goes. Places to live and things to wear? He promises to provide. Our decision was made based on enduring for what was eternal. We moved across state lines and continued to homeschool our children. I am not saying this is the right decision for everyone in our situation. I have never seen God do anything the same way twice. But, I am saying, it was the right decision for us at that moment.

There was a price. Our house never sold, and we endured hardships. Was the hardship fair? Adversity made us want to doubt our decisions. Even now, I sometimes wonder if we could have done something differently. But each time we were challenged, we counted it joy and pursued knowing Him and the fellowship of His sufferings. God never once failed us financially. He supplied materially and entrusted us with two more internationally adopted children.

“For we know that if our earthly house, this tent, (I realize this can mean our bodies) is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.” 2 Corinthians 5:1(NKJ)

Throughout the years we have been faced with this one question. Would we choose what is important now or what would be important later?

Heartfelt commitments require endurance through hardship, trial, testing, and attack. Outward circumstances are never easy to decipher. There will always be conflicting points of view and interpretations on how to best handle situations, but your commitment to that one thing you know God spoke to your heart will see you through. When burnout hits, if our motivations are built and based on God’s unchanging nature, we cannot fail.

*The preceding story was created as I journeyed through burnout and explored a remedy for it. Rest is the letter R in Remedy. Exercise your faith is letter E. Meditate More is letter M. Today's post is letter E, Endure for the Eternal. Stay tuned for future blogs concerning letters D-Y.*

 Listen for His Whispers...

Remedy for Burnout: Meditate/ Pour/ Meditate Some More

A sparkling glass pitcher. Perfect. I filled it with ice and water. The heavy cut glass would reflect the candlelight on my table, and make a lovely accent to dinner. After all, how often did special occasions pull us away from plastic divided plates and sippy cups? 

Leaving the kitchen to dress for dinner, I returned to find a puddle. On the counter near the pitcher was a pool of water. Must have missed it when cleaning. I grabbed a towel and soaked up the spill.

Mary meditated on Jesus, and as long as she did, she was filled. Martha stewed, her energies pouring from her faster than she could stop their leak. Both women beautiful, but one filled. One at peace.

The smell of pot roast reminded me it was time to take it out of the oven. I carefully arranged it on a platter and added onions, bite-sized potatoes, and carrots. I spun around to grab the pitcher. There it was, another drippy mess on the counter. Certainly, my prized pitcher wasn’t leaking? I lifted it high for examination. Nothing.

I toweled up the water, and this time stood guard. Ever so slowly, water drained from the pitcher. I dumped the contents and brought it to the light. The smallest of hair-line fractures zigzagged the glass. How could something so heavy crack and leak?

Whether we pour or leak, we need to be filled and refilled with His power. Be carried by the sweeping current of His Holy Spirit. Be refreshed. 
Meditate, pour, then meditate some more.

I couldn't bring myself to throw it away. On the outside it was still lovely. But what purpose would it serve? A receptacle for silk flowers? I scratched the idea and threw it in the can. I hate throwing things away. It called me back. I hovered over the trash can, and a lesson bloomed in my heart. A pitcher is meant to be poured and refilled. If it cannot hold substance, it has no purpose.

The story of Mary and Martha came to mind. Mary meditated on Jesus, and as long as she did, she was filled. Martha stewed, her energies pouring from her faster than she could stop their leak. Both women beautiful, but one filled. One at peace.

Meditation. The Hebrew word meaning to breathe. To breathe is to have life. Without life, we run dry. An answer to burnout? Meditate on your Redeemer. Fill yourself with His rich and satisfying Word; He is the Word who has come to dwell with us. 

And, flow where The River goes. Whether we pour or leak, we need to be filled and refilled with His power. Be carried by the sweeping current of His Holy Spirit. Be refreshed. 

Meditate. Pour out to others. Then meditate some more.

“O God, You are my God, and earnestly will I seek You; my inner self thirsts for You, my flesh longs and is faint for You, in a dry and weary land where no water is… My whole being shall be satisfied as with marrow and fatness; and my mouth shall praise You with joyful lips when I remember You upon my bed and meditate on You in the night watches. For You have been my help, and in the shadow of Your wings will I rejoice. My whole being follows hard after You and clings closely to You; Your right hand upholds me.” (Psalm 63:1, 5-7 Amplified)

*The preceding story, Remedy for Burnout, was written as I journeyed through burnout as a homeschooling mom. The letter R-Remember to Rest, E-Exercise What?, M-Meditate/Pour/Meditate Some More. Stay tuned for E-D-Y.* 

Mornings in our lives are those fresh, new beginnings we cherish each time we experience God.