When Dawson Trotman finally recognised he was tired, he was impatient with the fact. He noticed he could not face some of his daily work or go through his mail.
The aversion seemed temporary yet deep down was a gnawing realisation he would have to relinguish persona control of some things and delegate them.
What taxed him post was counselling and building in the lives of those at the Glen, helping them hurdle major hindrances in becoming fruitful servants of Christ.
Alone with Lila in their room one Friday, he fell across the bed sobbing, clear evidence of emotional fatigue. His doctor told him he had narrowly missed nervous collapse and must give up all responsibility for at least a month.
* Re-printed with permission from Navmedia.
Next… J Oswald Sanders
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