Come, Feel as Badly as I Do

A few months ago, I was at a retreat for moms of adopted/fostered kids. An amazing speaker, Donna Jean Breckenridge, created space for all of the attendees to feel seen and known. One concept she shared that hit me at the core, is a child beckoning to, “come, and feel as miserable as I do.”

Living with childhood trauma is far from easy. There are triggers that set us off. There are countless moments (years?) of self-doubt.  There can be economic challenges, trust issues, and on and on.

A Man Called Ove, by Fredrik Backman, is a deep and poignant story of a man who has survived much. His crusty, curmudgeonly exterior points directly to the trauma of his life. Losing both his parents as a teenager, he had to face adult issues too early. He was swindled by crooks, bullied at work, and his house burned down while he was out helping his neighbor. The one joy in his life was his beautiful, patient, and loving wife. When she was taken from him too young by cancer, any trust or hope Ove had in the human race, was lost. When we enter his story, he is grumpy and just out-right rude. In his misery, he felt very alone…and he wanted everyone to not just know it, but to feel it, as well. He seemed to want to make others miserable, like him.

Yet, some neighbors moved in, who not only needed Ove’s help, but also wanted a relationship with him. Their patience, grace, and empathy began to melt his cold heart.  As he beckoned them into his misery, they beckoned him into hope.

“Would I be the kind of neighbor that would sit in the misery of another neighbor long enough to offer hope? Would I be that kind of parent?…”

And sometimes our kids’ behaviors not only point to how miserable they are, but that they just don’t want to be alone in the misery. While most people would never want others to suffer, kids that come from hard places sometimes need to be validated in ways that seem counter-intuitive. As a parent, I might think, “If I say, ‘that seems really hard, honey,’ then I’m just giving them an excuse to complain.” The flipside is if I fail to empathize, with grace and love, for my kid in a moment of need, I can create an opportunity for the child to feel very alone.

Would I be the kind of neighbor that would sit in the misery of another neighbor long enough to offer hope? Would I be that kind of parent? Am I the kind of parent who always wants to offer a positive view of things…forgetting that validation might eventually melt a heart?

My son, Jordan, taught me much about this…and I’m still learning. One day, during a dark teenage season for him, he told me, “Mom, you are trying to make it better. You are trying to be positive…but instead I feel worse because I’m just hurting and scared.” Wow. That hit hard, and I needed to hear it.

Growing in empathy is a life-long process, and I’m glad I don’t have to have it all figured out yet. I’m so thankful for the message of an honest and hurting soul: see me for where I am, and love me right here. This might also be my message. Perhaps it’s yours, too. And there’s a Savior who meets us right there…reassuring us that we are not alone…and beckoning us into hope.