Zooming in on the Positive When The News Isn’t What You Want to Hear Twenty-eight years ago I was diagnosed with Retinitis Pigmentosa (RP), an incurable hereditary eye disease. This morning, when I entered the professional building , bits and pieces of
Derek Rabelo’s Story Beyond Sight Looking for some encouragement, I came across Derek’s story and knew at once that I had to share it. Not only is it the perfect summer story, it goes beyond … summer, beyond seasons … and,
Friday Friends Spotlight on Stephanae V. McCoy A Passion for Fashion I’m so excited to introduce Stephanae to you! She’s from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, my home state, and lives less than three hours from me. It would be wonderful to meet up
One of my favorite characters in Mobility Matters is “Buddy,” the four-legged
Even as a youth, Buddy had a way of drawing people to him.
companion I brought back from the Middle East. A quiet, unobtrusive stray black Lab mix I picked up at the men’s branch of the college where I teach, Buddy slowly but steadily wagged his way into my hea
I was night blind and wanted desperately to climb Mt Sinai. But the only excursion was at night, in the darkness. God make a way for me to climb this mountain. Give me Your boldness.
When I was looking for some inspirational music to share, I came across the video of this autistic blind boy, born the son of a cocaine addict back in 2001 and was amazed at the joy in his face and his superb voice.
Running has been one of the great passions I’ve kept throughout my vision loss.
The local running track in our hometown
There’s something about having one foot after another pound on the pavement that makes me feel alive and healthy. Maybe just sweaty — but it’s a good sweat. Maybe more than anything, I feel I’m still living life my way. I feel kind of normal when I run.
I think about blisters and speed and miles and feeling fit.
Just like anyone else who runs.
I had one more year before I finished my third teaching contract in the United Arab Emirates when I felt God directing me home. My parents were getting older and my marriage hadn’t worked out. During the summer holidays, I talked to my dad about buying a house. I’d saved quite a bit of money working overseas and I was so excited to be able to afford my own house at last in the States.
Dad’s business started out small with an old rickety dump truck, where we kids had to sit on the brush in the back of the truck to keep it from flying off. One of the tree fellers would drive it through town to dump it when it got full. Some of his strong and able-bodied friends, the McDonald brothers, served as tree fellers along with my dad. Even old Uncle Roy McDonald worked for a time.
My brothers, my sister and I all thought
On my way to Frank’s recording studio that afternoon, I wondered if I could really be a songwriter. Only one way to find out. Start. And see where it leads me…
There, I found my scrap paper of Spanish words and began to jot down some of my thoughts.
A few minutes later, Frank found me. “Hey, what are you doing?”
“Just jotting down some ideas.”
“Well, do you mind not writing them on my NFL schedule?”