God can use our pain and times of suffering to grow us. To soften our hearts so He can mold them more like his. Its definitely not fun. Sometimes the pain clouds your ability to see God working. But if you are willing, you can catch a glimpse of the beauty at work in you.
♥
This past year I have followed Kara Tippets and her journey home to heaven. You can read her story here. I would share updates with Jesse each night as I read through tears. I’d put our family into hers and ask him what we would do, say, feel, if we were told I was dying. He smiled at me one night and said, “That’s the thing about you. It’s how we are different. You aren’t just reading her story. You are sitting in her bed with her.”
Empathy.
I used to think it was a curse. Feeling like my heart would burst when I loved too much or hurt too much. Jesse grew up in a family that didn’t show or share feelings and when we were first married he would tell me, “You just feel too much!” And I would yell back “I have to because you don’t feel at all!”
I feel too much. I always have. Growing up, my cat would drag bunnies to the doorstep and I would cry for those rabbits thinking of their last moments and how scared they must have been. I have this ability to get inside and feel what others feel. What I have learned since Josiah died is that this ability is not a curse, but a wonderful blessing. Jesus calls us to come along side those who are suffering. He commands us to step in their shoes and care for them. This is one of the beautiful things that can come from suffering if you let it. The ability to empathize. I think it can be learned. It might not come easy but you can do it. I’ve watched my husband’s heart grow in empathy. I’ve watched God stir up the deepest emotions in him and bring them to the surface. It doesn’t come easy but now he wants to feel, to share, to understand what others do. He is willing to talk about it. And that makes all the difference. Some people have the natural ability to sympathize but they don’t empathize.
I’ve never struggled with feeling empathy. What I’ve struggled with was knowing what to do with it. I tried to avoid hard things because it made me feel sad and I didn’t like that. I’ve also learned not everyone knows how to respond to you getting emotional with/for them. I learned to just ignore painful things and keep them at a safe distance so I wouldn’t be affected. So I wouldn’t feel horrible and sad inside. Without realizing it, I was struggling for control over my life to keep the good good and the bad at bay. Because of this, I missed many opportunities to be empathetic. I put my own feelings before others pain because I didn’t like how it made me feel. How selfish is that? To make someone else’s grief about yourself? To shake your head and say “Wow, that’s just so sad.” And then put it down, close it up, or walk away because you don’t want to be around something hard.
It’s been a painful lesson learning the difference between sympathy and empathy. Many, many people are sympathetic to our loss. They feel sorry for us, listen as we talk, and pray for us. They truly feel bad for us. What has been life changing is realizing how little people are able to empathize with us. We desperately desire a friend to walk in our shoes and feel the bad with us. Being empathetic is difficult if you haven’t had a similar experience or if your personality is really different. Empathy takes work and imagination to get into someone else’s world. Some of us can do this without trying, but I would guess most people have to want to try.
We’ve been blessed with many sympathetic family and friends. It isn’t the words anyone has said to us that has hurt us. What hurts the most is realizing how little others understand the loss. Sometimes its the lack of words from those closest to us that hurt the most. Other times it is the realization they aren’t able to come inside and know what we feel.
The past month has been really hard for us as so many new babies have been born to friends and family. We watch as parents with glossed over eyes stare at their new life completely oblivious to the pain we feel inside. I try to empathize with them. Remembering what I would’ve felt like before I knew death. I try, but it doesn’t take the sting away.
I feel a lot of anxiety when I know those close to me have due dates approaching. I know that until something horrific happens to you, you would never in a million years believe it could. Josiah died from mistakes and things completely out of my control. Once you experience that, you know that you can do everything right for 9 months. Have every doctor and ultrasound tell you everything looks good. Feel the perfect and healthy little person moving inside you. Have the best medical care at your finger tips and yet it doesn’t mean you get to keep your child. Something or Someone could take them from you. Things can go wrong. Mistakes can happen. Your child can die and you never saw it coming.
One of my very sweetest and dearest friends recently had her fourth baby girl. I love this friend so much. She has been there for me in ways no one else has. It’s because of her I have learned the beauty of empathy. However, this friend nearly killed me when she went two weeks past her due date. Lots of sleepless nights and anxiety was had by me over the wait for this baby. I couldn’t help it. I’m not an anxious person but I have one tripping point. It’s the thought of labor and delivery. Jesse and I are dealing with and working through a lot when it comes to what happened to us on Josiah’s birthday.
This dear friend knows all the details of our story and when her new daughter arrived she sent me a message just hours later. It started like this, “Oh Jen, I just love you and you have been on my heart so much. I’m happy, but feel this aching void….I grieve with you.” She had Jesse and I both crying. As she held her brand new daughter in her arms for the first time she thought of me. Her empathy was so very healing. And it didn’t stop. She messaged me days later to say that she wished I was able to tuck Josiah into bed that night. Again to say she was shaking her fists at heaven with me. Again to offer prayers of comfort. You see, it wasn’t just her ability to feel sympathy for me personally, it was her ability to look down at her newborn and ask herself “What if I was Jen?” She comforted my heart by going there herself and then sharing it with me.
Unknowingly to her, she created the safest place for me to come and enjoy her daughter. When I walked in the door she acted more concerned about me than her. The baby was out of sight and when I asked where she was and then rushed to pick her up, she looked at me and said, “Oh. I didn’t know if you’d want to hold her.” Her empathy was beautiful and I was able to let my guard down. I could cry and snuggle and just enjoy the weight of a breathing bundle against my chest. When I heard her baby make little newborn sounds I didn’t fall apart. Her empathy had bandaged my heart in that moment. It wasn’t painful to be there and I was able to feel JOY for her. All of this because she was simply willing to empathize. To feel the hard and to share the hard. Oh friend how I thank God for you! You have taught me so much.
I really encourage you to think about who you can empathize with in your life. It can be someone deeply meaningful to you or it can be the neighbor down the street. If you know someone is hurting, allow yourself to hurt too. Then with the intention of sticking it out for the long haul, reach out to them. Say those precious words, “I grieve with you.” Say it and then do it. It doesn’t have to be time consuming but it might be a little bit of an inconvenience. I saw a quote by Ann Voskamp recently and it gave me chills;
“You love as well as you are willing to be inconvenienced.”
Christ calls us to share in his suffering. He calls us to love our neighbors as ourselves. He came to us, walked among us, wept tears with us and for us. How mind blowing that the God of the whole. entire. universe. inconvenienced himself enough to come into our ugly world and walk with us. He loved on us and bandaged our wounds with his grace. He is no longer flesh on earth but from his throne in heaven he keeps record of our tears. (Psalm 56:8) He loves us and commands us to do the very same.
“My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you.” John 15:12
With empathy, love selflessly.
He doesn’t say “If you have time, or if it isn’t too much of an inconvenience, or if it doesn’t make you too sad, then try to love one another.”
He commands us to do it.
I recently heard a comment from Tom Doyle saying the idols of America are comfort and security. The problem with comfort and security is they can be pretty self-serving. When we are concerned with comfort and security we can really only sympathize from a distance. Maybe we should ask ourselves… Are we willing to step out of our comfort zone and offer empathy? Are we willing to speak encouragement when we don’t usually like to share emotions? Are we willing to bring a meal when we don’t even like to cook for our own families? These are little examples of inconveniences that have big impacts. We can go bigger too. What if we gave of our wealth to those in need until it hurt us? Of our precious time and energy to listen to or serve others in places we’d rather not be? Big or small actions done with empathy can change hearts. Yours might be the one changed most of all.
“And now, dear lady, I am not writing you a new command but one we have had from the beginning. I ask that we love one another.” 2 John 1:15
Josiah!