Fate and faith, these two words do not have very much in common other that the first two letters. It is my opinion that these two words could be classed as antonyms and in fact have the opposite meaning. Two small words but they have extremely deep meanings if we take them into the context of how we view our lives. They are descriptors of people’s attitudes and how we approach or travel through life, how we view our experiences, and how we react to situations. While on small issues we may switch our beliefs between the two with little consequence, it is more important on our long-term outlook as to how we adapt and act. Is it according to fate or faith? The choice likely reflects on our mental outlook, how we act or behave, and even how people view us.

We tend not to think of these two words very often and typically they only come to mind as a result of some type of event. As an example, let us consider a minor car accident that does not involve any personal injury. Since nobody was hurt the consequences are not too severe. Our only worries are filing accident reports, going through the insurance process, making arrangements for the car repairs, and making some non-budgeted cash outlays if we are responsible for the deductible. Certainly, this may be viewed by some as a major inconvenience and add an extra degree of stress to a person’s normal routine.

So what is the relationship to fate or faith? Most would agree that this incident would be chalked up as an unfortunate incident, a bit of bad luck, and just the result of some bad fate. Faith would not even enter the picture. The majority of people would not consider this a life altering incident that requires a deep examination or questioning of their outlook, beliefs, or faith. The majority would write it off, learn from it as an example, slowly begin to put it out of our mind, and get on with life.

What about a more serious example where a family member was riding with us in the vehicle and sadly they died as a result of an accident that was determined to be our fault? This type of instance is severe enough that both fate and faith will be brought into question. Depending upon the outlook you have adopted, this event will likely bring about a serious review of the position you have taken on fate or faith. We could examine the possible feelings that might result.

How would the fatalist cope with this type of event? As with any human being, we would expect strong and sad emotions. There may be a self-examination in terms of personal blame and carelessness on why the accident happened. However, would there be anything in regard to a personal consolation for this individual that would promote self-healing due to this tragedy? This would probably not be the case. Instead, with a strong non-belief in God and without faith, this individual is left to console in that this was just destiny, inevitable, and just an adverse outcome. While it may seem very callous, cold and hard logic, what more could this person count on?

What about the situation where a person has a strong faith? There would likely be commonality by both people in respect to the emotions and the personal blame felt. However in going forward and looking to the future, the person with a strong foundation in faith and belief would have more to rely and count on. It would not be a situation of the cold "this was destined to be". Instead, over time there would be a sense of healing and almost an understanding. While the reasons for the tragedy occurring could never be totally explained from our limited vantage point, it would be realized that we are not given to understand all things. Why this has transpired and how it is part of a very elaborate design are not made known to us. Acceptance with time does come. A faith in God’s plan for each of us and a belief in Heaven brings important comfort to us. While on Earth we do not have the true closure some expect, we have the comfort that our family member has eternal joy and the answers and reasons will one day be given to us.

People with weak faiths are greatly tested by such events. They can become the example the fatalists point to and challenge saying, "Why did your God let this happen to you?". Those of weak faith succumb and may be caught in this difficult test. God’s love for us is like a rock. It took a long time to form and may have been growing for a very long time. We need to understand this and let our love of God and our faith in God also grow and become strong like a rock. We need to build our faith life on a foundation like rock. If your faith is weak, built on sand, and there only for the good times, when a storm comes into your life, the foundation of sand simply washes away and your faith with it. Those who use God’s faith to strengthen their life must recognize this. Nurture your faith, recognize that in difficult times it may be tested to the utmost, be patient, know that it strengthens and grows slowly, and pray for the faith of God to be with you and stay within your heart.

What is my personal viewpoint on life and fate? What of my creation and birth into this world? Was it fate that my parents should travel from far away countries to meet in Canada? Should I look at my existence as a chance of fate? Before I write more on this and my outlook, and want to give some personal details and history on my Mother and Father.

My Mother was born Erna Pfitzner in a very small village called Raschewitz. This village was near the major center of Breslau all located in the very eastern part of Germany. After World War II, all of this area was annexed and given to Poland. All of the place names were eventually changed.

Erna was born to Hugo Pfitzner and Pauline Kunoth. She was the youngest child and had two older brothers, Paul and Arthur. Her father was the master blacksmith in the village and from what I understand they enjoyed what we would call today a normal middleclass way of life. My Mother recalled many joyful childhood memories to us. Sadly, she lost one brother, Paul. He succumbed to tuberculosis at an early age and was not diagnosed early enough or able to get to a sanatorium in sufficient time for a cure. Her father died of a stroke when she was a teenager.

My Mother became a registered nurse and decided to practice in the country serving small villages. She told us with excitement how she learned to ride a small motorbike and this was how she traveled between the villages. World War II broke out with drastic consequences. Since they were in the East, they fled west to escape the Russians who were described to be most ruthless of the conquering forces. They lost all of their land, home, and possessions. My Mother was able to pack a suitcase of her most important mementos and keepsakes, but this was lost on a train during a time of mass confusion.

After the war, she served as a registered nurse in a refugee hospital in Munich. Being young and interested in seeing better opportunities, Erna decided to travel and immigrate to Canada. On July 1, 1952, she arrived in the small town of Ninette, Manitoba, where there was a tuberculosis sanatorium. She only intended to live and work in Canada for a few years; this was not going to be the eventual outcome.

My Father, Michael Soszek, was also born in a very small village, it was called Krecilow, and was in the very eastern part of Poland and the nearest major city was Tarnopol. His life was also greatly affected by World War II. As Stalin and Hitler had a pact at the beginning of the war, Germany invaded Poland from the west and Russia invaded from the east. "Fatefully" similar, after the end of the war, Russia annexed for itself the eastern part of Poland. For both my parents, their original birthplaces had the names changed and neither is the original country.

Michael was not born into the middleclass and would be considered today in the poorer class. He was needed to work on the farm and therefore could not attain a high level of schooling. Ironically, or is it faithfully, this was to be a fortunate circumstance. After invading their portion of Poland, the Russians did not want any organized uprisings or strength to exist. Those who were educated, officers, or leaders where taken away into the forests not to reappear. In what is usually known as the Katyn Forest Massacre, this is reported to have taken place during April/May 1940 on Stalin’s orders. The mass murder of 3920 Polish officers was conducted under the supervision of the NKVD in Kharkov (further east from Tarnopol).

Non-officers were to have a different destiny. As an able-bodied young man, my Father found himself in exile and treated like cattle was shipped to Siberia. When I was younger I often questioned my Father as to what happened and what this was like. He never explained to me what life was like in Siberia and from the somber expression on his face I understood that there was mostly unpleasantness, pain and great hardship. After reviewing the history literature, I learned that as result of the Nazi-Soviet pact and the 1939 invasion of Poland, the Soviets deported about 1,700,000 Poles deep into the USSR.

After Hitler broke his pact with Stalin and attacked the Soviet Union in June 1941, Stalin thought it would be a good move to now join the other side and became a partner of the Western Alliance. This included the Polish Government, which was in exile in London and was led by General Sikorski. He entered into negotiations with the Soviet Government to free the Poles detained in the USSR and to recruit them to form a new army. Maj. General Anders, himself a former prisoner, was appointed to command the new army. In December 1941, as a result of new negotiations, it was decided to transfer a contingent of 25,000 men to the West.

My Father was part of this army and found himself in a move from Siberia to Iran, which started in March 1942. There was a Soviet reluctance to provide supplies to the new army, which was reduced to starvation. My Mother confirmed his type of hardship and related a description by my Father where he stated how he thought he would nearly die on the long train journey to Iran (Persia).

After Iran, my Father traveled to the Middle East and became part of the 3rd Carpathian Rifle Division as part of the 2^nd Polish Corps. While he kept very few mementos, Michael did keep this divisional badge as well as one showing that he was part of the 2^nd Brigade, 6^th Battalion. While it took some time searching on the Internet, I was able to obtain a lot of information just from these badges.

During July and August, the 2nd Polish Corps moved to Palestine where it participated in maneuvers partly held in mountainous areas in order to acquaint the troops with the terrain they would encounter at their new destination, Italy. Units of the 3rd Carpathian Rifle Division started to disembark at Taranto, Italy, in December 1943. My Father was also part of a great battle in Italy and fought at Monte Cassino that opened up a road to Rome. The battle began on May 11, 1944, but it was not until the morning of May 18 that the Poles were able to occupy the abbey of Monte Cassino. Polish losses on the 17th of May: over 2,500 men in 6 Hours.

My Father has an old picture of himself taken with a very good friend during the war and I believe that he lost this friend at Monte Cassino. At the foot of the Polish cemetery at Monte Cassino is an inscription in Polish. It translates to: Passerby, tell Poland that we fell faithfully in her service, for our freedom and yours, we Polish soldiers gave our souls to God, our bodies to the soil of Italy, and our hearts to Poland. My Father received a medal for this battle and has the Monte Cassino Cross (no. 12855).

After the war, my Father went to England and lived in Cambridge as part of a resettlement corps. He was given a choice of countries to immigrate to and chose Canada. He arrived in Halifax, Nova Scotia, on January 8, 1951 and traveled by train across Canada to settle in Manitoba. He was a construction worker and a carpenter when he worked at a job site near Ninette. The paths of my parents crossed here.