Receiving new eyes to understand someone else’s situation allows empathy to dwell in our heart. Empathy means we not only feel sorry for someone, but that we come alongside them because our heart is touched by the feelings they are experiencing. We have a new perspective about their situation.
Around the age of seven or eight, I desired a baby sister. I had two older brothers, but a baby sister sounded like a good idea to me. I came home one day from school for lunch and found a sweet toddler in our home that my mother was babysitting for several hours. I was very intrigued and delighted with that small encounter that day, but I was eleven before my mother shared the news with me that she was pregnant! I was elated.
Sure enough, one February morning, my father told me that I now had a baby sister. I couldn’t have been more pleased. But the pure joy soon changed as the news came within several months that my sister Lynette was “profoundly retarded.” My world turned upside down.
The decision was made to place my sister in a state-run facility where she would receive the care needed for daily life. I begged my mother to let Lynette stay with us, and that I would help with her care. But when she was seven months old, my parents released her into the care of others. I find it interesting that there is no mention of the day she “disappeared” from our home in my diary at the time. Previously I had excitedly written that my mother was pregnant, all about my sister’s birth, and then the health challenges that surfaced in her short time at home. But on the day of her transfer into the care of others, my page was empty. Nothing.
As time went on, I questioned my parents’ love for my sister. Were they embarrassed by her? Was that why they sent her away? How could they make that decision that seemed so harsh? Over the years, since that day in September 1966, I have wondered. Infrequent conversations with my parents about my sister seemed to only bring sadness to them, though one time, my mother shared that she and my father should have talked with my brothers and me about placing my sister in a care facility.
I saw my sister a few times during her first 50+ years of life, but I never really understood what my parents must have gone through until the last part of 2023. Before they both passed away, my husband Dan and I became Lynette’s legal guardians. With questions still swirling in my mind, I reached out to state authorities that year to see if I could look at my sister’s records for some closure on her situation. This we were granted, so we traveled to Massachusetts to look through her stored records.
Dan and I walked into a small room and saw the four boxes on the table. We began to sort through them and were provided information that turned into a true blessing for me.
I distinctly remember the feelings that came over me as I went through the boxes—the pain my parents felt, the grief of giving up their daughter, of being unable to care adequately for her; their struggle to find medical professionals to assess her and obtain a diagnosis. In those four boxes were letters my mother had written to the caregivers that gave additional insight of the tumultuous feelings they were both experiencing. There were many tears that day as my husband and I both worked our way through Lynette’s medical history and other information.
That day brought so much closure to the saga of my sister and her mental and physical challenges. But it also brought something I had never anticipated. Empathy. It allowed me to place myself in my parent’s shoes and see life through their eyes. It also helped me to better understand the losses they were experiencing. How I wished I could embrace them and let them know that I had a much better glimpse into their sorrow and their desire to give my sister the best.
I had judged my parents harshly for so many years, never completely understanding their decision. And while I cannot perfectly understand from their perspective, this experience did give me a clearer look into their world, and acceptance.
I am so grateful that God is “touched with the feeling of our infirmities” (Hebrews 4:15 KJV), “He remembers that we are dust” (Psalm 103:14), and that “the steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness” (Lamentations 3:22–23 ESV). We are loved by One who knows all about us and has our best interest in mind—His very loving Mind. We can rest completely in perfect peace. Can we extend that same grace and empathy toward others? Can we look at our fellow humans as a work in progress, who need encouragement instead of criticism? Can we offer love instead of misunderstanding? It’s the least we can do for our fellow travelers—to be as gracious to them as God is toward us.
Empathy. It’s a great start on a journey of offering understanding to others.
