Made for Living: Celebrating the Ordinary

By Linda Faltin

Based on newspaper columns written by the author between 1980 and 1985, this compilation of personal reflections brings to the reader a fresh and open perspective on those days and times. Incredibly timely, this book offers inspiration, encouragement, and the recognition of the beauty and wonder of ordinary, everyday life. From celebrating high school graduations to ruing the deterioration of good manners, from cherishing friendships to looking honestly at both the joys and difficulties of parenting, Lindas eye and voice are uniquely hers as a woman of faith, inviting the reader in with both common sense about and delight in everyday living.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Sep 10, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466955769

Linda Faltin

The author brings a unique perspective on the value of everyday happenings, finding in them both inspiration and encouragement. Seeing through the lens of gratitude, she views her world and the people in it with a wide-open heart, inviting the reader to see and celebrate the ordinary as intrinsically valuable.

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Faith Makes Life Worthwhile (September)

As I reflected on the title my predecessor had chosen for this column, I tried to get in touch with the thoughts, the images the words evoked. Life I thought, is made for living. But what is it that makes life worth living, that gives life meaning and depth and substance, that separates our lives from those of our fellow creatures on this great planet and identifies us as human beings?

Is it our complex brain, that remarkable conglomeration of cells and electrical impulses, unexplained and unexplainable in function? Or is it our ability to experience emotions from joy to pathos, from pleasure to rage, from love to hate? Some say it is our ability to reason, to link thoughts in a cohesive, meaningful chain leading to problem resolution, to common sense answers to questions.

But in every human life, there are those seemingly unanswerable questions where emotionality has no place, where common sense falls short. What do we do with those parts of ourselves, of our lives? What indeed forms the cohesiveness which binds all the human elements into a meaningful whole, making sense of confusion and giving life richness and depth and color?

For many of us, it is our belief, our faith, which forms the bedrock for the superstructure of the rest of our life. It is the firm support which undergirds us through the daily goings-on of living, which provides the succor from which our hungry spirit is nourished, which is the very fiber of each day. Without it, the fabric of life would unravel, become misshapen, losing form and becoming unrecognizable as a life.

In this way, life and faith become as one and Life is made for living becomes also, Faith is made for living. That is the essence of the Christian message, the one with which I am most familiar. Religion is to be not simply a system of beliefs but a life style, a reason for being.

In the coming weeks, I hope that this column can heighten our awareness of those among us who are indeed living their faith, as well as making us aware of those opportunities for us as God’s children to learn together and share in worship within the community of Coral Springs.

A Newcomer’s Prayer

Father God, we have come so many miles

to make our home in this place.

We have left behind those we love,

those with whom we have shared our lives

for so many years.

I find myself mourning, grieving for

familiar places;

the corner grocery store

the farmers’ market

the church

the roads whose names I know

I grieve the loss of

familiar people’

the friendly dentist

the pastor

our neighbors

my friends, Fran and Mae

and Mary Lou and Becky

As I look around me at the unpacked boxes

and rooms in disarray, I know I need

your presence more than ever, for I am

so lonely. I cherish your friendship and

your love, but I need flesh-and-blood people

to fill the empty places.

Please help me to find new friends

who will fill the emptiness in my heart

and life. And please help me to learn

the streets and the stores and the neighbors.

I will try to reach out, to be open

to new people and experiences. But

on those days when I am too sad or

too lonely or too weary or too sorry for myself,

please send into my life people who will

first reach out to me.

Faith Comforts the Dying (October)

Some time ago a remarkable book came across my desk and because, at the time, I was deeply involved in working with people who were dying, the title piqued my interest. Of equal interest was the fact that the author was a physician, and so I began reading Encounter with Terminal Illness by Ruth Lewshenia Kopp, M.D., discovering in the process one of the most sensitive and honest books about dealing with death that I have ever encountered.

Dr. Kopp is a Christian, a fact which unfolds naturally in the course of the book, and her beliefs manifest themselves again and again as she treats her patients with compassion and with love. Her approach to dealing with those diagnosed with a terminal illness is one of openness and honesty, tempered by a deep sense of caring about each one of them as an individual.

As in other contemporary books on the subject of dealing with death and dying, Dr. Kopp writes about denial, but her approach is unique as she differentiates between harmful and healthy not yet denial. More important, as a physician and thus in a position of power and authority with her patients, she does not demand that her expectations be met or that they adhere to her agenda. Rather, she attempts to assist the people she cares for to live out their own agendas for their lives, to deal as openly as they are able with family and friends—and themselves.

Dr. Kopp, as a Christian physician, also deals with the sticky issue of faith healing, witnessing to her belief in the fact of instantaneous healing (what are usually called miracles) while at the same time stating that often divine healing occurs through accepted medical therapies. I personally believe, she states, that all our responses to medical and surgical treatment can be ultimately credited to God, as Maker and Sustainer.

Believing in the power of prayer and its importance in illness, she also acknowledges that faith can sometimes mask outright denial. Any scripturally sound approach to healing, says Dr. Kopp, must include the admission that God’s ways are not our ways, nor are our thoughts His thoughts. It must allow for the fact that illness, death, and suffering are a part of God’s permissive will for this world and that no human being has been exempt from them, including God’s Son.

Section Two of Dr. Kopp’s book deals with the doctor-patient relationship in a most unusual way, expressing a point of view too seldom shared by physicians or espoused by laypersons—that the patient is an integral part of the team treating the illness. In order for this concept to work, the physician must recognize and acknowledge the personhood of the patient, realizing the patient’s need for some control over his or her own life; the patient, in turn, must assume his/her share of the responsibility for the treatment program.

The remaining three sections of the book are concerned with the family’s response to the terminal illness and the responses of the dying individual in coming to terms with his or her own illness. Here Dr. Kopp’s Christian beliefs are beautifully demonstrated in the chapter entitled The Christian’s Response to Terminal Illness. No pious platitudes confront the reader but rather a firm faith in the power and love of God. Dr. Kopp deals head-on with the issue of why some people are healed and others are not, not only from the depths of her own faith, but actively drawing on scripture again and again. And she recognizes that death is an enemy, no matter how strong our faith.

Although the Christian stands to gain much after death, there are still tremendous losses as well, Dr. Kopp acknowledges. If he denies his human needs to fall in line with a concept of ‘spirituality’, he is robbed of his humanness and his Christian faith is deprived of its vigorous, robust human character. Only as he faces death realistically, in all its horror, can he see the true magnitude of Christ’s triumph in the Resurrection, the true glory of God’s promises, and the true grandeur of the God who has so amply supplied ALL his needs.

Throughout the reading of this sensitive and honest book, I found myself wishing I could know this woman, could meet and talk with her face-to-face. In the final chapter, Dr. Kopp shares with us, the readers, her personal witness about her beliefs in terms of her own death, that death in the first person which confronts us all. And it is in these closing pages that the author gives us a great part of herself in the following words:

"Before I die, I would like to grow in understanding. I want to learn what it means to be fully human, to find God’s abundant provision for my physical, emotional and spiritual needs. I want to learn the secret of harmony within myself, between my humanity and my spiritual nature.

Most important of all, I want to live before I die! I want to live fully, taking each day as a precious gift. I want to live wisely, without regrets. I want to live freely, taking each situation of my life as it comes from the hand of my loving Father without anxiety or fear. Then, when I face my own death, I believe that I will be able to see my Father’s house beyond the valley of the shadow, and death will be, not the end, but merely the passageway to a new beginning.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: By this time in my life I no longer regard death as an enemy for sometimes it is indeed the path of true healing. Admittedly, I am now regarding it from a far different vantage point than that of thirty years ago.

A Seeker’s Prayer (October)

How do I find you, God?

How do I walk the paths

your feet have trod when

here upon the earth?

How do I find the rebirth

of my soul so that I can

truly be whole and new

in you?

Living Christ, come into

my heart

And with you bring the

breath of the Holy Spirit

so I will never be apart

from you again.

Fill me with your love that

I might share this blessing

with others.

Use me as you see fit, not

as I would be used,

For my knowledge is so poor,

so small compared

to yours,

which sees all the needs

of your children and

yet also sees mine.

I am yours and I come to

you with arms

outstretched.

I am yours.

Halloween Rediscovered (October)

This Friday evening, witches, hobgoblins, skeletons—all manner of unusual creatures—will haunt the byways of Coral Springs. Treats will be given, tricks played, parties attended—all in all, a night of revelry. It might amaze the hobgoblins, and perhaps their parents, to know that Halloween has a long and fascinating history. The name came from the early Christian church, All Hallows’ Eve, so named because it takes place the day before All Saints’ Day. In the eighth century, Pope Gregory III designated November 1st as All Saints’ Day in honor of all Christian saints, particularly those who had given their lives for the faith. Over time, All Hallows’ Eve was contracted into the familiar term, Halloween.

Much of the folklore which surrounds the celebration of Halloween came, not from the early Christian church, but from the Druids of the ancient Celtic tribes who inhabited Wales, Ireland, the highlands of Scotland, and the shores of Brittany. For the people led by this priest-like cult, November 1st was New Year’s Day, as well as a festival honoring their Sun God and Samhain, the Lord of the Dead. This was a time when the dead flocked back to mingle with the living. The Celts believed that the sinful souls of those who had died had been relegated to the bodies of animals, but through gifts and sacrifices, the sins could be expiated and the souls released. With the designation of November 1 as All Saints’ Day, a melding of Christian and pagan customs took place.

The modern customs of costumes and trick or treat goes back to the pagan Celtic New Year, when ghosts who were believed to come to the homes of the living were greeted with a banquet-laden table. After the feast, the villagers, masked and costumed to represent the souls of the dead, paraded to the outskirts of town, leading the ghosts away. The Christian rationale for these practices was found in the costumed parades of children who went out on the eve of All Saints’ Day, offering to fast for the departed souls in return for money. The tricks part of the custom was based on the old belief in ghosts and fairies who roamed the countryside Halloween night curdling milk, riding peoples’ horses to exhaustion, and all such manner of mischief. Any practical joke could then be blamed on these mischievous creatures.

Halloween was not widely observed in America until the arrival of large numbers of Irish in the 1840s. In addition to many of the other old Celtic customs, the Irish brought with them the legend of the jack-o-lantern. It was said that a man named Jack was unable to enter heaven because of his miserliness and unable to enter hell because he had played practical jokes on the Devil. He was therefore forced to walk the earth with his lantern until Judgment Day, thus becoming known as Jack O’Lantern.

Halloween is now completely separated from any relationship to the early Celtic and Christian customs and practices. Instead, it is a celebration for children—a night of fun and frolic and food—and sometimes mischief.

Death—A Beginning? (November)

On Thursday the letter arrived . . . I’m sorry to bring such bad news but Nancy died this week. The rest of the letter blurred behind a veil of tears which clouded my vision.

For Nancy had been an amazing friend, though we had never met face-to-face. Our friendship had begun with a lengthy telephone conversation in which Nancy shared with me, the director of our community-based Hospice of York, the myriad of feelings she was experiencing in dealing with ovarian cancer and the reactions of the people in her life—husband, children, friends, physician. She was marvelously verbal and open; beautifully erudite in giving expression to almost inexpressible feelings. I was a safe listener, a friend of a friend, the death-and-dying nurse in our medium-sized community, a professional trained to listen non-judgmentally. And it was to this ear that Nancy poured out her story, a mixture of anger and frustration, joy and hope, question upon question, wish upon wish.

Though the story and the emotions were all too familiar, the personhood of this forty-four-year-old woman was uniquely apparent and her special gift of expression opened a window into her soul, to the very depth of her being. She had made some decisions about her treatment, decisions which were being questioned and criticized by others, most especially by her physician, but Nancy asserted her right to make decisions about her own body, about the quality of her life. We discussed her feelings about the proposed treatment, possible side effects, etc., and she repeated again and again, This is happening to me. The choice must be mine. And my affirmation of her right to decide produced a joyful, Thank you for understanding. At the close of our conversation, I told her that she would be in my prayers and I encouraged her to call if she ever again needed a listening ear.

Over the following weeks, our mutual friends kept me informed of her progress, for progress it was, and we marveled at her attitude of strength and determination and optimism. And Nancy, herself, called once more to tell me all was going well and we rejoiced together.

Life changes abruptly ended my professional life in that town, bringing our family to Florida, but prayer for Nancy—for strength, for fortitude—were part of each day. But in the early fall, the disease began an abrupt downhill course; it was spreading; Nancy’s condition was worsening; the outlook was grave. Her last weeks were extremely difficult ones physically, but her family and faithful friends were with her, loving, caring, sharing. And then she died—and the letter arrived bearing the news, heavy with the grief of the dear friend who had written the hard words.

Alone with my feelings, my thoughts flew unbidden to a story I had read long ago about a lesson given to the famous motion picture producer, Cecil B. DeMille. While alone in a canoe on a lake in Maine to think out the solutions to some problems, he floated near shore and, gazing into the water, he saw the bottom crowded with water beetles. As he watched, one came to the surface, crawled up the side of the canoe and, reaching the top, grasped it fast and died.

Deep in his own problems, DeMille soon forgot the beetle, but several hours later, he happened to notice it again. In the hot sun, the shell had become very dry and brittle and as he watched, it slowly split open. From it emerged a dragonfly, which took to the air, its colors flashing in the sunlight. The dragonfly circled the pond, casting its shadow on the water over its previous beetle companions who remained in their limited world, while their former companion soared in a world beyond their comprehension.

In relating this experience to friends, DeMille concluded with this penetrating question: Would the great Creator of the universe do that for a water beetle and not for a human being? So, soar, Nancy, soar, with your beautiful colors flashing in the sunlight and on those of us who remain here. We will miss you.

The Pits Aren’t All Bad (November )

Recently I listened as some friends were talking about experiencing bad times, down days; those days and times which try our patience and during which it seems that the corners of our mouths are destined to turn permanently downward. I smiled as one of the speakers put her feelings graphically into words—This past week, I’ve really been in the pits!

Recalling this incident later, I thought about that expression—in the pits—which originated with teenagers some years ago, and then was popularized for Middle America by Erma Bombeck in her book, If Life is Just a Bowl of Cherries, What am I Doing in the Pits? And I thought about how frequently we hear these words spoken today, referring with dissatisfaction or depression or discontentment to our particular lot in life, to where we find ourselves on any given day.

A nagging curiosity drove me to the dictionary where I searched for meanings and explanations. The first definition of pit I encountered was, A cavity or hole in the ground; a further definition yielded these words, A great abyss, specifically hell or a part of hell. Turning to scripture, I read the beginning of Psalm 40: I waited patiently for the Lord; then he listened and heard my cry. God lifted me out of the pit of despair, out from the bog and the mire, and set my feet on a hard, firm path and steadied me as I walked along.

As words and phrases often do, this one acted as a memory trigger for me as I recalled a tape I had heard nearly a year ago, recorded by one of my favorite authors, Philip Keller. On the tape, Keller was speaking about the biblical image of God as the Potter and we humans as clay which can be fashioned into vessels to serve a specific purpose. And he talked about the Pit—the dark wet, malodorous bog in which the potter kept the clay he had prepared in order that it would season, for without seasoning in this dank, dark place, the clay would be unfit for use.

Keller went on to describe the gloriously beautiful parallel between the potter’s pit and our lives with the Great Potter. We—the clay—must season, must become ready to be fashioned into a vessel fit for some useful purpose in life. And this seasoning, this readying time, takes place in the very places we consider most undesirable, in the pits of life, the down-times and places which we bemoan and long to escape. But the wonder of it all, the hope, the promise, is that the Great Potter will lift us out of the pit, out from the bog and mire and will fashion of us a vessel fit for God’s own purposes, fashioned for a particular reason, a particular task, unique to the vessel each of us is fashioned to be.

As I thought and wondered and searched, I discovered that in another definition, the word pit came originally from the word pith which can be defined as that which contains the strength or life of a thing. Once again, the pit, the thing which we fear, dislike, seek to avoid, becomes the very source of our strength, our growth as human beings, as children of God. So the next time you are in the pits, rejoice! You are being prepared for all the glory and wonder and growth of life that is to come. And when you are ready, God will lift you up and set your feet on a hard, firm path, fashioning you for God’s own purposes, giving fulfillment and joy to life.

Lord Love a Duck! (November)

Thank you, Lord, for the rain today. But maybe we could use a little bit less. As I listened to these words prayed by my daughter as part of our family’s table grace, I smiled wryly, realizing how gently she had expressed my own rather vehement feelings about the recent long-lasting spell of damp, rainy weather.

The state of the weather effects my emotions and I have found myself among the cranky in recent days, as the low-hanging gray sky continues to pour forth torrents of rain on the already-sodden ground of southern Florida. Indeed, the only inhabitants of our town who really seem to be enjoying the wet weather are our fine feathered friends who periodically waddle across the roads, halting traffic as they obliviously meander to their destinations, caring little about the inconvenience to their impatient human brethren, and reveling in the rains which fail to penetrate their naturally-oiled feathers, giving credence to the old saying, Lovely weather for ducks!

On a recent rainy day, I was driving home, for some reason in a hurry, though what vital cause was drawing me I cannot recall. As I rounded a curve in the road near our house, thoroughly irritated by the rain and the general discomfort of the day, I came upon a car stopped in the middle of the road for no apparent reason. Oh, for crying out loud! I exploded to no one in particular. What is that idiot doing by stopping there? my hand reaching for the horn. But just as I was about to blast the driver of the stopped car, I saw the reason for his delay. From the far side of his car emerged