Originally, my family and I are from Albania, a country in Europe. During the time my parents were growing up, there was religious anarchy, and the nation was predominantly split into two denominations, Catholic and Muslim. Catholics didn’t associate with Muslims, and Muslims didn’t associate with Catholics. If you were anything other than Catholic or Muslim, neither would associate with you! My parents were more than lost when it came to what and who God was, so they decided to just believe there was a God, but not follow a particular religion.
There have been, on occasion in my life, and I am sure in yours, certain moments in time when a word or group of words cannot be uttered. Oh, we may attempt to muster the effort – maybe even use facial expressions as a type of “visual aid,” but try as we might, words fail us from time to time! In my life it happened twice. My name is Lino Zarrillo, and this is my story.
My name is Brian Fetterman, and this is my story. I had been feeling dissatisfied for a while. By anyone’s account, I should have been happy. I had a good job, a nice house, and a loving wife, and was by most measures successful. But I was becoming more and more discontented, not with my situation or status, but with myself.
Growing up in the mid-western state of Iowa, I had all a boy could want – a solid home life with parents who loved me; a 120-acre farm on which to hunt, fish, hike, and ride my motorcycle; a small school where four major sports were offered; multiple job opportunities; wholesome friends; and, eventually, a car I could call my own – a blue Volkswagen Bug.
I was raised as an only child with my father in the military, so we moved around a lot. I pretty much kept to myself and was quiet growing up. My family did not get out to church very often, so I did not know a whole lot about spiritual things. What little I knew came from my mother, and she basically said I just needed to believe in God.
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