Part 2

If sympathy is like wildflowers along the side of the road, then empathy is like the sunset.

Empathy is communication that involves an exchange of emotion.

Everyone desires, and deserves, to be validated at their most vulnerable level.

Tears don’t mean I have connected.

Too much soap streaks the floor.

Never censor those who are experiencing loss. 

Blended snapshot.

*****

So how is that for a start?

And, the question that will be the most telling, will it all come together?

Probably not.  I realized when I started writing on this subject that I needed a lot more letters behind my name than what are currently there. 

I also realized, that to do it justice, it needs the space of several months to cogitate on, gather copious notes and references, and then, and only then, could one sit down and write with confidence. 

But, then I remembered the little thing I wrote when I started this blog a year and a half ago—‘Homemade, Homegrown, and a little Homespun,’ and I relaxed.

Because, basically, that’s all I am, so that’s all I can write.

Now, with all that out of the way, let’s look at each of the first seven lines individually.

*****

If sympathy is like wildflowers along the side of the road, then empathy is like the sunset.

You and I both know what it’s like to be traveling along and suddenly come upon a vibrant patch of wildflowers, either in the ditch, or up on the hills along the road.  We marvel at them as we whiz by, or, maybe we’ll slow down, pull to the side of the road, and get out to walk among them. 

Several things are certain about those wildflowers.  They fling their beauty upon us unconsciously, but, while we marvel at their intricacy, we also know that tomorrow, they will be past their prime and faded somewhat.  The jolt of happiness they give us is full currency, and, even though momentary, we bask in the memory of their beauty as we drive on.  (Me!  I can’t believe they thought of me!)  So it is with sympathy.  Don’t discredit it just because it comes in smaller or one-time doses, because, almost always, those small doses somehow happen upon us at just the right time. 

The sunset, on the other hand, yields much more than the wildflowers.  As I work around in the yard, I often glance towards it.  Each time I look, there is something different to see and absorb.  The many different facets stay there for a number of hours; it has deep quiet strength to it.  It is there every time I look up and towards it.  It lasts much longer than the wildflowers, and becomes a part of me and my evening.  It provides a sense of time and place.  It settles the disturbing things in my mind that I can’t come to grips with.  It somehow validates my existence and reason for living. 

I think it does all this because my emotions and that of the One who created the sunset come together in those hours. 

(I use sunset, because that is what touches me; you may use something else that is equal in your mind.)

Empathy is communication that involves an exchange of emotion.

It seems there is no other way to communicate on an empathic level.  We connect with what someone else is going through by experiencing a part of it ourselves.  The way we experience it is to allow our emotions to reach out to them.  If they are speaking in anger of what they feel, we let ourselves become angry with them.  We don’t urge them on to more anger, sadness, criticalness, grief, whatever they are expressing, with our own. 

We recognize that neutrality is a huge enemy of empathy and a real pushdown to the one we are with.  If we are so careful to be neutral, it may say several things about us.  It may point to fear within ourselves that we aren’t willing to address.  It may point to a certain form of pride where I wish to be seen as a healer/caregiver for the social advantage it gives me. 

Empathy often connects unseen and does its work quietly.  It bears the reproach of the one we are with.  It takes upon ourselves some of their emotion, because we allow our emotion to become involved. 

Some may worry that if they show too much of their own emotion together with the emotion shown by the grieving one, it will become a runaway train to destruction in the form of bad attitudes gendered, or habits encouraged or formed. 

Not so.  True empathy has a healing quality about it called confidence.  It gives enough confidence to the hurting one, by feeling with them, that they don’t wish to stay where they are.  It’s one of God’s miracles. 

Almost always, the emotions that seem the most truculent, find a place for themselves once the original grief or loss begins to heal.   

Everyone desires, and deserves, to be validated at their most vulnerable level.

I wonder, if statistics were to be found, how many violent acts, how much self-medicating, how much simmering anger and desperate despair all stem from a lack of validation.

Because it seems, that most heartaches, most failure, and any loss is not bearable by one person only. 

We are not made strong enough to be able to.   We never have been. 

Validation, more than just an ‘I’m sorry,’ comes in the form of listening the story out to the end.  It comes in the words, “I believe you, I can completely get it, even if I don’t understand it.”   It also means that I purposely reach back into my own life, to the troubles I have experienced, and, as distasteful as it is, I go through them again to see if there is something in them to hold out as help to the one I am listening to.  I become vulnerable with them in this way.

Validation gives the merest glimmer, or a giant ray of hope to someone who thought they were the only ones enduring what they were enduring. 

Minimizing, or mentally checking off the person telling their story is disastrous.  In many instances, it has taken every scrap of courage they had to start telling their story in the first place. 

Validation doesn’t seek revenge for the one wronged; but it stands in between that person and something that could ultimately be their end.

Tears don’t mean I have connected.

Please don’t make the same mistake I made.  It seemed I went through a time when I made efforts to listen to the stories of those who were hurting.  Somehow, I thought that once I saw tears flowing, we had reached a common ground. 

I am terribly dismayed to think back and realize that I was responsible, more often than not, for those tears.  I chose questions that led deeper into that person’s hurt. 

Of course, if the person we are visiting with wants to go deeper on their own, we should never try to steer them away. 

And, it is often tears will flow; just be careful and intuitive in listening, rather than prodding.

Too much soap streaks the floor.

At least it does at our house.  I can always tell when I have mixed in too much because when the floor dries, it leaves behind a filmy streak where I swished the mop.

Sometimes, because of the awkwardness of the situation, or, our own nervousness, we gush on and on about how bad it must be to have experienced the loss.  This is completely counterintuitive.  Really, we are serving no one but ourselves in that moment; our words do no good to the listener, but they leave us with a false sense of being an ‘encouragement’ albeit in a reverse sort of way.

Public services aren’t the only place to visit with those grieving.  In fact, a good visit can rarely be made to happen in such places.  The person grieving is a survivor.  They made it to that service, in some cases, by sheer grit, because it was the last thing they wanted to do.  A quiet encouragement as we pull up alongside the person, commending them on their presence there, or on how brave they are, will give enough time to feel them out as to whether they want to talk more or not. 

Empathy doesn’t seek public attention to prove its value, neither does it need to be overdone.

Never censor those who are experiencing loss. 

I remember very well, standing outside of the school building the evening before my eighth-grade student’s funeral, his death being only five or so days after graduation, and hearing his Grandpa say, “We never censor those who are going through a time of loss.” 

He went on to say that grief, or loss, affects us all differently.  It often brings about its own stress that bears down upon us.  Since each situation is different, we ourselves don’t know how we will respond to it. 

I’ve seen friends that have gone from non-singers to voracious singers during their time of healing. 

I’ve seen friends get extremely chatty at times when you didn’t expect it.

I’ve had friends go dark and reticent. 

I’ve seen friends who seemed to lose all hope.

I’ve had friends lose ground spiritually.

Whatever the situation, as my grandpa friend told me, this is never the time to tell them to ‘snap out of it,’ or add to their already seemingly heavy burden with concerns.

Blended snapshot.

One of the larger fears someone dealing with loss faces is, ‘I’ll be left behind; they will forget my loved one, or whatever loss it is I am facing.’

One of the main jobs of an empathizer is to take a figurative snapshot of where our friend who is dealing with loss is now, and take another figurative snapshot of where we see them when they have come through the worst of their hard time. 

We take those two snapshots and blend them into one.  The blended picture is far more likely to be the real picture when the worst is past. 

It is our job to hold that blended picture up to our friend.  Not as an assignment, nor as a challenge, but as reality. 

It is also our job to stand by, during the long hours and days that follow as our friend works through their hard time. 

We stand by consistently.  Doing so assures them that we have not forgotten about them or their loss; that the memory of their loss is important, not only to them, but to us also. 

We don’t do the work for them; this encourages stunted growth.  Neither do we make too much of their situation.  Our constant acquaintance with the situation is often care enough, and validates to the suffering one that they are truly experiencing a loss, and, they truly have a friend.

It’s okay to set a schedule on your calendar for checking in.  It’s also okay to create a prayer list.  Both are not as academic as they seem.  The damage of letting time slip by, and it does in our busy world, is great to the one enduring a slower pace of life due to their loss.

Like the sunset, we linger nearby with a gentle influence of better things over the course time we spend together.

*****

I’m sorry this got so long.  I considered splitting it, but finally decided it might digest better as one rather than two. 

There is a little something I may write yet, on the Felt For part, we’ll see.