What I Learned About Empathy

One of the most poignant songs I’ve ever heard is called “Walk a Mile in My Shoes.” The ability to mentally put oneself in another’s shoes is a very desirable character trait. But it often seems to be in short supply when it comes to trying to understand how someone else really feels, given what they are going through.

Can we rejoice when someone has good fortune? Or do we turn green with envy? Unfortunate circumstances are definitely harder to deal with.

Many people are genuinely uncomfortable when a friend or acquaintance suffers a tragic loss. They can be heard saying, “I have no idea what to do or say. I don’t know how to comfort them.” I had an important learning experience when our second child, Julie, was a few months old. Bindi, a friend of mine, was expecting her first child. When the due date came, the child was stillborn. The navel cord had wrapped itself around her little neck. Bindi and her husband, Perry, were devastated! I went and viewed the baby privately. A small card attached to the inside of the casket top gave her personal information. Little Sandra Jean was beautiful! She looked exactly as our little Julie had at birth: similar hair, skin tones, and facial features. She was six pounds, thirteen-and-a-half ounces, and twenty-and-a-half inches long —the same size as Julie.

It was almost as if that were my baby lying there.

I teared up as I left. My husband, Carl, and I attended the regular viewing and the burial the next day. Bindi and I cried together. “Too bad what happened to Bindi,” whispered an older member of Perry’s family. “She’ll probably never have a child that lives!” she added. “I hope that’s not true. It’s not Bindi’s fault,” I said.

How I hoped this person had not said that to Bindi and Perry.

I learned that it’s OK to cry. And that a hug, handclasp, or simple “I’m so sorry for your loss” speaks volumes to a grieving heart.

May we always treat the sad as we’d like to be treated if a misfortune happens to us.

Bonnie Moyers