By guest author Tammy Kennington,
“Mama, I can’t read like the other boys and girls.” My daughter’s face, round and pale like the moon, tilted in expectation as she settled her small frame on my lap.
The silence in the room continued. How should I respond? In Heather’s first five years, I had kissed scraped elbows, mended torn teddy bears, and soothed her fears. But I lacked the ability to solve this problem. My teaching degree and years of experience in the classroom proved useless. This was new territory.
“Honey, I’ll figure out a way to help you,” I said, filled with determination and a prayer. Lord, help me.
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