Dear Friends,

My Epiphany Star Word is Learn. As I've reflected on this word, I realize that you all are some of the finest teachers I could ever have along with my own family--spiritual lessons present themselves daily as we share our life together. Occasionally you do this in a way that moves all of us to a new level and a deeper one.

With this ezine the Communications Team is reminding us of one of those teaching times from last fall. Our annual Thanks-Giving Sunday was once again a powerful statement. Kevin Fillingame and Steve Connor shared their journeys of faith. I think they spoke of a transformational process that we all relate to in our own lives. The movement which involves turning toward God and turning away from that which is less than God wants for us. With that turning we choose to serve the God who loves us--and in that service we trust in Christ until that time when we are fully at home in Christ.

Turning, serving and trusting are lessons in life worth learning and keeping.

A special thank you to Kevin and Steve for being living lessons of faith!

Yours in Christ,

Brad Martin, Pastor

Brad had asked if I was interested in sharing my journey of faith last year. But I had to say no because I knew it would involve talking about my oldest son, Christopher, and he would be here on that particular day. Thinking about my spiritual growth and how that involves the many challenging and important moments--highs and lows in life-there is no way of separating that directly or indirectly from Chris' life. And in thinking about my journey of faith it's been a journey on a road where Chris has led the way for me much of the time.

Many of you know Chris or have seen him. He's 31 now. When Chris was born, his mother and I had no indication that anything was wrong. During labor, there was approximately 45 seconds to a minute of fetal distress that the doctor seemed mildly concerned about, but decided it was not cause for any drastic action. That minute didn't manifest itself until 2 years later when Chris still was not walking or talking.

We took him to have tests and at first we were told he had cerebral palsy. Then at 5 years old the diagnosis mental retardation was added. We lived in New York City and from the time Chris was 2, his mother and I had done a lot of research on programs and services for him and felt when Chris was old enough to go to school every day he would need a private placement where his needs would be best met. As Chris got older his needs kept changing and became more challenging.

At 5 years old, we were told to enroll Chris in the NYC school system, they would find they could not meet his needs, and we would get funding for private school. What we did not know was at that time, in 1985, the NYC school system was determined to mainstream as many disabled children as they could. It felt like they adopted us and Chris as their pet project and were intent on placing him in their system no matter what.

Things just got worse. Chris was in the NYC school system and as the years went on we went to hearings and compiled papers showing evidence of how they were not meeting his evolving emotional and social needs. The city's answer to our objections was not only more aides but also a more restrictive environment. When Chris was 8, he was the only ambulatory, only verbal child in his class. We knew he had to get out. His aides outnumbered the children in the class. He had no other child to relate to; he was alone except for his parents and many aides.

In our research we had discovered a school in Glenmore, Pennsylvania - Camphill Special Schools. They called it Beaver Run, a Children's Village. There were about 8 individual houses in a private community; each had a house mother and father. These were people who had their own children who lived with the special needs students. Each house may have 3 to 5 special needs kids living with the family. During the day the children would go to school on the grounds. It was a thriving village dedicated to the children. There was no TV, no electronic devices for entertainment, they ate healthy, organically. It was a holistic environment. But beyond all that, the one thing that made it so clear to me that this was the right place for Chris was that all the workers- -every house mother and father and all the co-workers--were volunteers-they had no salary. They depended on tuition, donations, and grants. They did this because they wanted to. This was their life. Their vocation. It was apart from the mainstream, but they did not shun outsiders, they welcomed them. And they welcomed them with something I had not felt in a long time, from other adults, a love that was unconditional.

It was also there at Camphill that I felt something else I had not felt in a long time--at least since Chris's birth--a real spiritual peace. My reaction to all the challenges Chris was having since he was born was anger. I resented what was happening to Chris but also what was happening to me. This was not the plan I had imagined for myself. I kept asking God and demanding an answer. No answer came of course and that just made me angrier. I had been raised Catholic--had gone through 16 years of Catholic education. I thought you do the right things, you are good to others, and good things happen to you. I heard the cliché--well intentioned--that God only gives children with special needs to those parents who can best deal with it. And I felt -well, He missed one this time. I knew because so many things were tearing me up about this. I felt it was unfair to Chris, unfair to his mother, and unfair to me. And we kept following directions and advice from experts but, no matter what we did, things had a way of getting worse. Chris was not getting "fixed." Anger and intensity would just take me over. I became sullen and withdrawn--cutoff from others.

But at Beaver Run, there was nothing to be angry at or withdrawn from. I began to awaken as a result of Chris's journey there. And he began to awaken as well. He was comfortable for the first time. He had friends, he had work. And he liked that. He was appreciated for being himself. But with that came a great sacrifice.

We sent him to live at Beaver Run when he was 9. It was like sending a 9-year old to college. For the first month we could not contact him. After that we could call once a week and speak to him. Chris came home on major holidays and in the summer. I will never forget the first day I came home from work after we left Chris at Beaver Run. I opened the door and out of habit looked toward his room -knew he wasn't there. I felt the silence and I cried. I never felt so alone.

The relationship with my wife was nothing without Chris. I realized his mother and I only had Chris in common. Once he was gone--that was the beginning of the end of the marriage. We had a void between us. It took a few more years to come to a complete end. The same year as the divorce I moved to Easton, Pennsylvania. That put me just an hour from Chris.

It was through Camphill that I started to get the answer to my question, "Why did this happen to Chris?" There was a parents meeting at Beaver Run and one of the teachers brought up the question. The answer was an analogy. All of us, no matter our challenge, are a musical instrument. These challenged people are musical instruments as well. They may have a string missing or a key broken, something is not quite right on the outside, but there is still music inside of each of them. Life is about finding the music in us and in one another and sharing it. That music, God's music or unconditional love. The life of Camphill is about finding the music in each person in the community and that enriches everyone in the community.

I began to realize that God wanted me to stop tearing myself up in anger because of the ways things were and start looking for the music inside me and inside of others. Start living my own life again. I think I began to see and am still seeing that God does not give answers. He does not stop to say "OK, this is why this is happening." But He does show the way.

The next time I felt that unconditional love or that music was when I met Leslie. I got this post card in the mail from a dating service for single professionals. I took a chance and joined. You looked at a video tape of someone talking about themselves and if you liked them you could request a meeting. That person would then look at your tape and if they agreed, well you had a date. And that's how Leslie and I met. Since my video was mostly me talking about Chris, she knew about him before we met.

As we were dating I shared Camphill with her too. I remember the first time I brought her there, it felt like I was introducing her to my parents for the first time. Leslie had a lot in common with Camphill. She was and is very much involved in life. She loves finding the "music" in herself and others and is energized by other people. She enjoys challenges and challenging herself. And. like many at Camphill she was also a volunteer.

It takes a lot of courage to volunteer for a life of uncertainty. She saw Chris at his best and his worst while we were dating and she never gave up on him or on our relationship. She came into our lives knowing one thing for certain: we did not know the challenges that lie ahead. Chris was going through his teen years at this time and that was when he began having seizures for the first time. It felt like I was on a raging river full of blind curves, but Leslie volunteered to come on that river with me and Chris. She has reached out to him as she would her own son, Ben. That hits me even more the past 12 years because I know how she reaches out to her own son. He is blessed to have her in his life. I am just very lucky.

So why did God let those 45 seconds happen? At least for me it was to put me on a road of discovery with Chris about life. Without those 45 seconds, Leslie would not be in my life, we would not have Ben, and I would not be here. And even though we are still on this different kind of journey, it is not a journey with fear. That unconditional love, that "music" takes the fear away.

Ben is now 12 and like me - he didn't volunteer. I know how scary this journey can be for someone who's not a volunteer. But if there is one thing I want Ben to know it is that God's love is real and while we may feel things are unjust in our life, or not fair, He has not abandoned us. Those times of greatest frustration are the times that we have to summon up the courage of a volunteer and trust whatever is happening is because there is a plan and as long as we stay positive and involved in life, with one another there is nothing to be afraid of.

The most recent part of my journey of faith was finding Trinity. Here I have felt unconditional love and see it in the acceptance and welcoming of Chris and in how Ben, Leslie and I have been welcomed. I have seen this congregation rally to one another's support in times of crisis. I have, first hand, seen the power of prayer. And I have felt that this is another special place that God has led my family to-- a place we can be involved in life, with finding the music, and sharing it with one another.

My wife works weekends so with two young children it is difficult to attend as many services and keep as involved as I would like, so I look forward to occasional emails from Pastor Brad, usually just to check in and see how we are doing and update us on anything exciting happening in the Trinity family. As I sat down one evening to check my email I smiled when I saw the sender "Brad Martin." My smile immediately disappeared when I saw the message "Speaking in Church." Public speaking in general is not my forte much less when it involves speaking about personal or private matters.

First and foremost, it is an honor for me today to speak about how God has influenced my life as well as the Trinity congregation. My relationship with Brad and Trinity spans almost 22 years, beginning as an 8th grader tagging along with Mike "Zubie" Zoladkiewicz and Kevin Lyons to a basketball game at the church. This is where I met Brad for the first time. I enjoyed playing basketball, so I continued on attending Trinity functions which included playing football and basketball, shoveling snow, raking leaves, Dorney Park, skiing, and eventually becoming a part of Brad's first youth group at Trinity.

As a part of this group we were a bit rowdy, and I am sure Brad and Penny got frustrated with our immature behaviors but they never showed it to us. Youth group was more of a social outlet at that time where we were being taught the importance of Jesus and our faith. It was not until an overnight youth retreat when as a 15 year old I went to Hawk Mountain. Brad knew how to tie the teachings of the Bible into pop culture, and we discussed how our faith tied in popular books, music, and shows. It was during this retreat I really started to take my faith seriously.

Time marches on and as I became older, I regrettably did not keep up with my commitment to my faith as I wish I had, and I went onto college and work where God was still present but not a priority in my life as he should be.

Two crises in my life have brought me back to the importance of faith, hope, and spirituality. In 2000, my 16 year old cousin was killed in a car accident two days before Christmas. Andy was an only child, and this had and continues to have a devastating effect on my family. I was 23 at the time, a new teacher and my cousin would often stop by Dickinson to say "hi" and tell me how he was doing in school. His death was very difficult but it brought me back to God because without Him and the prayers and support of the Trinity congregation, my family would not have come through this trying time.

The other crisis that I am sure the majority of the congregation is familiar with came on January 6, 2006 when my brother, Sean, was involved in a near fatal car accident. I will never forget my sister knocking at our window, the ride to the hospital where I was thinking "he must just be a little banged up," or the first time I saw Sean, unrecognizable on a stretcher, tubes and wires everywhere, on a ventilator and the doctors telling us his chances of survival were 30%. At that point I faced the hardest crisis of my life and had to face the fact that I might lose my brother.

Our family was immediately drowned in love and support by the Trinity congregation during the most difficult thing we have ever experienced. I prayed like I have never prayed before, and Sean's room at the hospital was papered with cards and posters from the youth group, and there was a daily steady stream of loving, caring visitors.

Days after the accident we were told "Sean will probably survive, but he will be in a vegetative state." God heard our prayers and slowly but surely, Sean improved. Purposeful blinks became purposeful hand movements. Nods became words, words became sentences, and within a year, I had my brother back, we had Sean back. We heard from doctor after doctor, specialist after specialist that Sean's recovery was "miraculous." I believe this is largely in part due to the prayers and support of the congregation. Nothing is impossible in the eyes of God, and as you all know Sean today is far from a "vegetative state."

These crises put a lot of things in perspective for me. I became thankful for each and every day, and I realized I need to make a stronger effort to incorporate God into my life during times of plenty, not just times of crisis.

Since Sean's accident and recovery, I have tried to be more demonstrative in my faith, and one way I do this is through the Appalachia Service Project (ASP). Although each year at ASP we are doing work for the less fortunate, it is I who feel like the lucky one, not only because I am able to participate but also because I return home with a refreshed sense of what is really important in this world.

As an adult, I am able to look back and although some times were difficult I can truly say it has brought me to where I am today. I am thankful every day to God for my family, my wife, my 2 healthy and active children and my own health.

In preparing this speech, Brad asked me to consider the question: "What has God done in your life?" Well, I pretty much summarized it all but I think one major thing is, God brought me and my family to Brad and Trinity Presbyterian Church. Without Brad and the congregation, I can honestly say I would not be where I am physically as well as spiritually today. Thank you all for your past support and my family looks forward to many future happy memories with the Trinity Congregation.

Share your thoughts and experiences with your 2012 Epiphany Star Word in the next issue of the Trinity e-zine. You can write an article or a member of the Communications Team can interview you and write the article. Contact Brad or Katrina if you are interested in sharing your story of faith.