In a Different Light

Tallahassee, Florida

There was no mistaking the excitement in my father’s voice. “I saw an abandoned Studebaker in the woods where I grew up,” he told me over the phone. “It’s the same truck I rode in when I was a boy. I was hoping you could photograph it for me.”

I took a deep breath, hoping Dad wouldn’t sense my reluctance.

It had been more than a year since I’d had surgery to repair the detached retina in my left eye, but I still couldn’t see clearly. Things were fuzzy, indistinct, like what a nearsighted person sees without glasses. Not the sharp vision I needed to pursue my retirement dream of being an artistic photographer, the kind whose work gets published in photography magazines. My passion was shooting high-definition, crystal-clear images that reveal the hidden beauty in everyday objects, the beauty I’d believed God wanted me to uncover. I knew both my parents wanted to encourage