Running a Fine Line

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.

From a Wood Loft to the Lord’s Loft

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 Passions

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