empathy
Tonight my last appointment of the evening stopped me about 2 minutes into our conversation and said, "I'm sorry to interrupt you, but I'm very nervous this chair isn't going to hold me."
She was very overweight.
My heart welled for her as I gently found her a different chair and tried to make her feel less embarrassed.
I asked her about herself and she shared a story cloaked in hopelessness. She has dealt with, and is dealing with heavy things. Near the end of it she said, "And now I have gained so much weight, I feel like I can't do anything."
Here she was, a girl barely older than myself, heart aching over something my heart understands so well and yet, she would kill to be me.
Yes, I am overweight and there are moments when it limits me, but I am strong. I can walk and even run. I can dance and play actively with my nieces and nephew. I have never experienced the level of difficulty she was describing.
A long time ago, I think it's 12 years now, I was living in Eastern KY when I experienced my first really painful tragedy in life. I awoke early one morning to my mothers broken, five hundred mile away voice on the phone, telling me my one of my best friends, Scot, had died in a car accident. He was a police officer and he had been on a new job as a rookie just a handful of days when a high speed chase gone wrong ended his life. It was very public. The funeral was overrun with media and officers who were there to pay their condolences. It is still one of the most surreal experiences of my life. The whole community knew about it. People lined the road all the way from the church to the tiny cemetery next to my house where he was buried.
It was a lot to take in.
Several months later, I arrived at a church picnic and found my sister flagging me down. She told me that the sister of one of my youth group members had drowned. As the story came out it got more and more horrific. She had been swept away in a flash flood and it was very public on the news in the large university town where she was living and going to school. Our tiny town was shaken. News crews flooded in to cover the story and her funeral. It was exhausting.
When it was all over, I remember stumbling into my house and falling on my face just inside the door. In that moment I wept tear of joy and gratitude to the Lord for taking Scot first. I knew that if I hadn't walked through that journey in my own life, I wouldn't have know how to help this family through on their journey.
I wouldn't have had empathy.
Tonight as I looked into the weary face of a fellow fat girl, I found myself grateful once more. There was so much of her story that I couldn't relate to, but across that desk, one plus size lady to another, we connected.
I could share about my own struggle and even my own successes.
Most of all, I could tell her that I was there for her and that no matter what, I refuse to give up on her...
or on me.
She was very overweight.
My heart welled for her as I gently found her a different chair and tried to make her feel less embarrassed.
I asked her about herself and she shared a story cloaked in hopelessness. She has dealt with, and is dealing with heavy things. Near the end of it she said, "And now I have gained so much weight, I feel like I can't do anything."
Here she was, a girl barely older than myself, heart aching over something my heart understands so well and yet, she would kill to be me.
Yes, I am overweight and there are moments when it limits me, but I am strong. I can walk and even run. I can dance and play actively with my nieces and nephew. I have never experienced the level of difficulty she was describing.
A long time ago, I think it's 12 years now, I was living in Eastern KY when I experienced my first really painful tragedy in life. I awoke early one morning to my mothers broken, five hundred mile away voice on the phone, telling me my one of my best friends, Scot, had died in a car accident. He was a police officer and he had been on a new job as a rookie just a handful of days when a high speed chase gone wrong ended his life. It was very public. The funeral was overrun with media and officers who were there to pay their condolences. It is still one of the most surreal experiences of my life. The whole community knew about it. People lined the road all the way from the church to the tiny cemetery next to my house where he was buried.
It was a lot to take in.
Several months later, I arrived at a church picnic and found my sister flagging me down. She told me that the sister of one of my youth group members had drowned. As the story came out it got more and more horrific. She had been swept away in a flash flood and it was very public on the news in the large university town where she was living and going to school. Our tiny town was shaken. News crews flooded in to cover the story and her funeral. It was exhausting.
When it was all over, I remember stumbling into my house and falling on my face just inside the door. In that moment I wept tear of joy and gratitude to the Lord for taking Scot first. I knew that if I hadn't walked through that journey in my own life, I wouldn't have know how to help this family through on their journey.
I wouldn't have had empathy.
Tonight as I looked into the weary face of a fellow fat girl, I found myself grateful once more. There was so much of her story that I couldn't relate to, but across that desk, one plus size lady to another, we connected.
I could share about my own struggle and even my own successes.
Most of all, I could tell her that I was there for her and that no matter what, I refuse to give up on her...
or on me.
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