A couple of months ago there was a story bouncing around the internet
about a woman who’d created a series of greeting cards to send to someone going
through cancer. What was unique about Emily McDowell's cards was their raw honesty. Instead
of the trite, and frankly unhelpful, standard card messages, they said what
someone suffering a life-altering illness really needed to hear. Stuff like:
“Please let me be the first person to punch the next person who tells you
everything happens for a reason” and “I wish I could take away your pain. Or at
least, take away the people who compare it to the time their hampster died.”
But my personal favourite was this one: “I'm sorry I haven't been in touch. I
didn't know what to say.” I like this because it beautifully captures the helplessness
you feel when someone close to you is suffering, and you know there is nothing
you can say or do to ease their pain.
I was reminded of this recently when I was spending time with a friend
who is healing from a broken heart. Over the course of our conversation she ran
the gamut of emotions from rage to disappointment to shame to grief. I wanted
so badly to offer some advice or some truism that would help her find peace,
even if temporarily, but I had nothing. But that’s not what she needed from me,
anyway. It’s not up to me to fix the situation, my job is to be
there and listen. Empathy is not a verb, it’s a heart space.
Liz Gilbert wrote a beautiful and moving post a few months ago about the
despair she felt after another mass
shooting in the US, and how she attempted
to turn that sadness into hope on a micro scale: “When the world starts to feel
overwhelming in its sorrows, I always ask myself to look around me – to narrow
down my focus – and to notice somebody who is nearby me, who is suffering. I
can’t help the millions, but maybe I can help one. Life is hard; there is
always someone going through great pain. I tell myself: Go sit with that person
today for a while. Don’t try to solve their life, or answer for God [as to why
it has happened], or offer dismissive ‘reasons’, or try fix the whole world.
Just say, ‘I don’t know. But I will sit with you through this.’ Turn your
overflow of sorrow into love.”
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| One of Emily McDowell's beautiful cards. |
When you don’t know what to say or do, it’s tempting to either rush in
with solutions or platitudes, or to just back away completely. Don’t do that.
Lean in. Sit beside them and listen. That’s how you show love. That’s how you
say ‘I hate that you’re suffering and I can’t change that but I will bear
witness to your pain and hold your hand when you need me.’ What people need
when their world is broken is the warmth of human connection. That is the one thing you CAN do.