Who Inspired My Faith?
My grandfather, Milan Lalich, was a great influence in inspiring my faith. My grandfather
was a relatively small man at 5’2” with a huge heart. He was loved and admired by many
people. He was Serbian and practiced the Serbian Orthodox faith while my grandmother,
his wife, raised her children in the Methodist church as her mother had raised her. My
mother who was once a Methodist Sunday school teacher, passed away when I was
eleven years old and at that time my three siblings and I moved into my grandmother and
grandfather’s home. My grandfather attended services at St. Sava Serbian Orthodox
Church in my home town of McKeesport, Pennsylvania, every Sunday while my
grandmother stayed home to prepare an early family dinner. Each week, my grandfather
would drive to the First United Methodist Church in McKeesport to drop his grandchildren
off to attend Sunday school and church and then he would go to his own church. He took
on the responsibility to see that we continue to practice our faith since our mother was no
longer here to do so.
My grandfather’s routine each morning was to rise and begin the day with what must have
been nearly an hour in prayer. He finished each day the same way spending much of that
time on his knees. The prayers were all said in Serbian so I never knew what they meant
but I was always so impressed by his dedication to his daily prayers. Each meal in our
home began with our blessing in English followed by my grandfather’s blessing in Serbian.
I had heard this Serbian prayer so many times that I could repeat it word for word even
though I didn’t know what I was saying.
All my grandfather’s actions were testimony to his commitment to live a faith-driven life.
When he retired from U.S. Steel he took on a part time job as a parking lot attendant.
Back in those days we had parking lots in town with meters that required feeding them
with change. There were many opportunities to find loose change on the ground while he
was making his rounds. Each quarter, dime, nickel and penny he found was placed in a
cup and when that cup was full it would be delivered to St. Sava and placed in the
collection basket. This is just one small example of the exemplary life he lived.
Milan Lalich passed away at the relatively young age of 69 very suddenly from a massive
heart attack. I was heartbroken over the loss and still miss him thirty years later. I was
very lucky to have someone that I was so close to being such a loving, positive role model
and an inspiration. I wish that every child could have a grandfather like mine.
Vicky Weaver
Who Inspired My Faith?
Who Inspired my faith . . . I have been pondering this question for a couple of weeks
now. The interesting part is the best answer I can come up with is my infant son. Having
grown up in a Catholic family, I was exposed at an early age to Christianity and consistent
worship. My mother, Ellen, most specifically lead by and continues to lead by example in
her steadfast participation and attendance of church. Even during my high school and
college years where I failed to attend mass (or worship of any form), my mother continued
to set the example. I was a true Christmas Catholic for many years.
Fast forward many years. After April and I married and moved to Leesburg in the summer
of 2003 with our designs set on starting a family, we sought out a church family, in part
because we felt it was the right way to bring up a family. After struggling to start a family
we focused on adoption. When April became pregnant around New Year of 2004 I
arrogantly contacted the adoption agency to advise them that we wouldn’t be needing their
assistance. Upon losing the baby in February of that same year, with great humility I
reengaged the adoption agency and they accepted us back with open arms. It was at this
point that I realized God had a very specific plan for our family. The process from start to
finish in bringing Jack home from Russia took 9 months. These 9 months were filled with
ups and downs, heart ache and anxiety, and finally a joy that we questioned whether we’d
ever experience. In career/business we often talk about the concept that you can endure
any “How” as long as you have a big enough “Why.” That little baby boy, malnourished
and covered in mosquito bites on the other side of the world was as big a “Why” as April or
I could ever need. Subsequently, his sister Sarah gave us the continued “Why” to create a
ministry/mission to serve children and form Run Me Home.
As a rigid thinker that is obsessed with planning and having everything in a neat and tidy
package, I have learned that God has a sense of humor, a purpose for each of us, and his
own timing. He gives us strength when we most need it, and much like a parent does for
their child, he allows us to find our own way, but course corrects us when necessary. As a
young adult I always assumed I’d be married in my early 20’s, have 2.5 children, enjoy a
prosperous life in corporate America, while sitting quietly in the back row of church each
Sunday, and possibly even throw in a white picket fence for good measure. What I have
been given are two beautiful children from Russia, 29 years of searching before finding my
true life partner in April, an entrepreneurial spirit and the formation of my own company, a
microphone each week in service, and an inner drive to serve and champion children in
need. My inspiration in faith were two babies that fought and struggled to survive in
dilapidated, under-staffed orphanages in a near third-world country.
Brian Whritenour
Who Inspired My Faith?
My mother passed away when I was ten.... but not really.
I wasn't aware at the time but even though she was no longer around in person she
continued to be quite present. You see, it was 'her' deep faith that helped guide me in
remaining close to God. And it wasn't what she said, it was what she did.
I often wondered, and still do, what her favorite flower was or what made her laugh or
even what she thought of me then and how she'd feel about me now. But the one thing
that was never left a mystery was her faith. Of course we attended Sunday School and
church service each Sunday (here at LUMC), but it didn't stop there. She was involved in
Bible studies, one of the women's circles of the UMW, the quilting group and so on. Not
only did she attend but I was often along with her, at least often enough that it left an
impression on me. I remember sitting in the parlor with some of the ladies of the church or
swinging around the decorative support poles in Wesley or exploring the church library, as
she spent many an hour there helping develop the concept and to get it going (I pass by
her name each time I walk through it's door).
She also enjoyed singing in the choir. Each Sunday when Mr. Titus walked the halls
ringing a desktop bell to signal the end of our Sunday School hour, I left the classroom
hoping to get the chance to stop in and see her on my way to service (sometimes having
to wait until the service was over and then dash down and over and up all of what seemed
like a million stairs to reach the choir room). Back then it felt so big and I found it exciting
to be a part of everyone bustling about. I guess what I liked most of all was the interaction
with the members. There were lots of friendly "hellos" and quick inquiries or comments
about what was going on in my life. So while the church was what some might simply call
"church" it also felt like an extension of my home. Many of the friendly faces that I saw
back then (both in and outside the choir room) are still there greeting me today, still
making me feel truly at home.
It's that church family that we talk about during baptism. When we vow to help care for a
child's spiritual upbringing, I always feel so blessed when I listen to those words. So many
from this church held true to their part in that vow for me (and still do), whether in big ways
or small.
In addition to seeing my church family there inside the church itself, I also lived in a
neighborhood with several of its members and the minister right next door. Growing up
and sharing a property line with your own church parsonage isn't to be taken lightly. A kid
can't get away with much!
Also, outside of church, my mother would make trips to the local Christian book store. It
was always a treat when I would be permitted a purchase. Our bookshelves at home were
lined with a mixture of adult and children's literature, a lot of it being Christian based. It
was from that children's Christian literature that she pulled material for my brother and I to
sit and read with her on the Sundays that she was not well enough to attend church. She
still yearned for us to experience a Sunday School lesson despite the situation at
hand. While she may have been focusing on a particular story, the real lesson that carried
on was that 'God matters'.
Her relationship with God mattered and she "showed" us that it mattered, even when
things weren't going well. I don't recall her ever saying that but instead she showed
us. That old saying, "actions speak louder than words" rings true. By being actively
involved in her relationship with God, in and outside of the church doors, we couldn't help
but see God's importance in our lives. Even in her death, I undoubtedly knew whose
hands she was in. At age 10, God wasn't someone unapproachable. He was my
friend. Knowing that she was with Him, I found it easier than ever to talk to Him. It wasn't
just prayer it was more like an ongoing conversation. So, even though she wasn't able to
give me a birthday present each year she gave me the most important and never ending
gift of "faith." That gift has helped me get through every part of my life, both the great and
not so great, even if it took me awhile to see.
While I would not want anyone to have to give this gift the way it was mostly given to me, I
hope that as we walk amidst our youth we recognize the impact of our actions. Simple
"hellos" or a caring smile can provide more than one imagines. And if you are lucky
enough to be raising one of our youth, take comfort in knowing that it's not just the
conversations you are having or not having with them but what you are doing yourself that
might be making the biggest impression. I certainly don't think one has to live in a
neighborhood filled with church members or be as physically involved as my mother was, I
definitely pale in comparison. But possibly what's more important is the way a person
leads their life and to whom they credit their blessings.
It took me a long time to really begin to recognize my mother's "gift" to me but I can't
imagine a better one, can you?
On an aside:
Just writing this has prompted me to realize how much more I should be doing to show my
own kids how much God matters in our lives from the simplest to the most complex, both
in ways that demonstrate as well as involve them. What a great exercise.
Thank you!
Cathy (Koller) Tilghman
Who Inspired My Faith?
In my case, I was not baptized until I was in my 20s. I searched for a denomination that I
could relate to in faith and discovered that the Methodist Church was my home. I believe
the greatest influence on my religious life was reading the sermons of John Wesley as part
of a continuing religious studies program put on by our church.
Dave Kirsten
Who Inspired My Faith?
My parents, Bernie and Lois Akin. For taking me to church as a child, when I didn't really
want to go, and remaining a great model of Christian discipleship.
John Davis. As I continue to 'grow up' in my faith, his uncompromising trust in the will of
God is inspiring.
Katie Akin. At a young age, my daughter serves as a great example of dedication to:
studying God's Word, prayer, meditation, and evangelism. The maturity of her faith
inspires me.
Brent Akin
Who Inspired My Faith?
I vividly remember one occasion when I was probably around four years-old. We were
living in Vienna, Virginia at the time. I was sitting on the floor of the kitchen, playing with
some pots and pans while my mother was preparing dinner. As she was busy getting
dinner ready, she also taught me to recite Psalm 23, verse by verse, line by line, until I
could say it back to her. I remember that event like it was yesterday, and I still remember
the 23rd Psalm. In this way, and in many other ways, she taught me to have faith in Christ.
I thank God every day for my mother, Helen Coffey.
Buddy Coffey
Who Inspired My Faith?
I grew up in the Waterford, Virginia, area, and my father was a farmer and my mother was
a housewife with many other duties that a farmer’s wife handled, such as raising fowl,
growing a vegetable garden and preserving it, and curing slaughtered pork. My father
passed away when I was 11, and then my mother was really busy.
Two things were very important in our community, school and church, and there were no
excuses for missing either of them. My church was Catoctin Presbyterian in
Waterford. My Sunday school teacher was Mrs. Wynkoff. She offered for us to call her
Aunt Nel, but I didn’t because I didn’t call people “Aunt” or “Uncle” unless they were. She
and her husband, Capt. Wynkoff, came to our community after the Capt. Retired from the
military. He became my sixth grade teacher and was the principal of the school at the
same time. In high school, he was my eighth grade math teacher. He would call me at
home after a math test to give me the results, rather than making me wait to the next
day. Mrs. Wynkoff wore very thick glasses, and the skin on her throat and chest, which
was ruddy and uneven, showed that she had been burned at one time. I remember her
teaching us to memorize the books of the Bible in order. Another memory was her
working with another lady in our church who taught us how to knit during Bible school.
Capt. And Mrs. Wynkoff had no children. At Christmas, my Sunday school class was
invited to their house, across the street from the church, to decorate their Christmas
tree. They had a dog named Chica; it interested me because I wasn’t used to dogs being
allowed in the house. The big highlight of the evening for me was a spaghetti dinner with
salad and garlic bread. If you have read Growing Up by Russell Baker, he had a similar
reverence for spaghetti.
Capt. Wynkoff had a rose garden in his back yard that he groomed diligently. He
showered and put of fresh clothes in the evening and walked In his rose garden. I also
wasn’t used to this because of growing up on a farm.
When I returned from college with friends, I would always take them to see the Wynkoffs.
As tradition with my two sisters, we all dressed at the Wynkoffs and walked over to the
church across the street for our weddings.
Mike and I and our children visited the Wynkoffs several times as they aged. The Capt.
Talked to Mike about refinishing some of his furniture because he knew that was a skill
and interest of Mike’s.
They were a couple who provided a good example of how to live.
Mary Ellen Herndon MeGeath
Who Inspired My Faith?
My brother and I shared a bedroom on the second floor of our home and each night Mom
would climb the steps – the “wooden hill” she called it – to talk about our day and say
prayers with us. This was a time too that she helped us memorize the various tenets of the
Christian faith – the Apostles’ Creed, the Lord’s Prayer, the Ten Commandments, Psalm
23 and other bible passages and stories. But there was more.
My Mom always had a strong, abiding faith, teaching us – by her actions mostly – of how
important it was in our own lives to have a boundless personal faith. She taught us that
God works in and through every aspect of our lives, and that while sometimes you clearly
see and understand His presence, there are other times when it’s not so clear. Growing
up, I needed to understand the “why?” and “how” of things, and this included questions
like: How did Jesus feed 5,000 people with just a few fish and loaves of bread? How did
he turn water into wine? Why did Jesus have to die on the Cross? How does God hear
my prayers when so many other people are praying too? – and on and on. While I have to
admit Mom’s answers didn’t always satisfy a very inquisitive little boy, I do remember her
saying so many times: “Remember Gene, God’s wonders and mysteries that we see each
day teach us to trust the Lord for those things we have not seen or cannot see.” She knew
that we didn’t have to look far to see many of God’s mysteries or wonder, every day – “we
just have to prepared to see them” she told me.
Many nights, as we ended prayers, she would close with: “and thank you Lord for this
wonder-full day.” Then after prayers she would tell us what it was she had found on that
day that was so full of God’s wonder. As the years went by, she encouraged us to look for
God’s wonders and mysteries and share them with her – and I did. They were common
things, everyday things, things that most people might overlook. That habit of finding
God’s miracles and mysteries, which began when I was very young, has helped me over
the years to build my own growing bundle of “things seen” that help me even today with
some of the hard questions I struggle with about the “things unseen”, the mysteries with
which I am still confronted; but I am always comforted and strengthened by faith in God’s
constant presence, and assured of His loving grace and mercy. I am forever grateful for
the time my Mom took to impart her faith and love to me.
Gene Robey