Inspiration. It can seem like an elusive commodity. Most days we're inundated with reports of evil actions and ignoble intentions. Dazed by the sheer volume of these "newsworthy" events, catching a glimpse of rousing examples of faith and courage can feel like a hunt for a cheery violet in an overgrown briar patch.

To shed light on those overshadowed blossoms, I've drawn up a list of acquaintances who have faced daunting challenges with humility and grace—exemplars of faith in action. My dear friends Brian and Ellen shine as dazzling examples within this category. Below, a narrative of their journey. May it provide a fortifying infusion of encouragement in a highly flawed world.

Brian and Ellen's Story: Part I

In the early 1970s, two children were born into households 915 miles apart. Their births had more dissimilarities than parallels: one was a boy, the other a girl; one was above average birth weight, the other just two pounds, seven ounces; one came later than expected, the other following a 26-week pregnancy.

Baby Ellen grew to be a bright child, but there were quirks about her movement patterns. This led to a diagnosis of cerebral palsy at age two, the result of complications from premature birth.

For most of her first year Ellen wore casts on both legs. By kindergarten she was reading at a second-grade level but couldn't advance to first grade because she had seven surgeries scheduled for the following year.

By this time the family had returned from Colorado to their home state of Minnesota, where Ellen was the only special-needs child enrolled in their small church school. Wearing a leg brace and an orthopedic shoe, she struggled to keep up with her classmates physically. Being regularly carted off campus for speech and physical therapies, she missed out on a lot. Introduce into this equation episodes of spasticity, and Ellen would gradually develop a sense of separateness that followed her into high school.

In ninth grade, Ellen joined other church-school students at Immanuel Lutheran High School in Eau Claire, Wisconsin. But her adolescent challenges remained complex and anti-spasm medications left her feeling as if she were moving about in a stupor.

Philosophically, Ellen viewed herself as having a mild disability and sensed that she was "cutting a path." But as a typically self-conscious teenager, she didn't always appreciate the character-building opportunities inherent in living with a hitch in her gait that made it difficult to fit in.

"I found myself having a few arguments with God," she remembers, "and praying for someone to come into my life who could truly understand."

Coming Soon: Brian and Ellen's Story – Part II