Empathy is easy. Until it’s hard.

It’s been two years. Almost to the day, actually.

My second guy was 8 years old at the time and we were on our biennial trek to bask in the glow of that adorable talking mouse and his magnificent tribe. It was our day at Magic Kingdom and in typical Disney fashion the crowds were akin to 4am at Walmart on Black Friday. Just obscene. And not particularly ideal for us introverts, guys, but obviously Tinkerbell sprinkles the joint with feel-good-fairy-dust and her spell makes me blinded to even the most absurd congestion. I mean, a 90-minute wait for a 30-second ride seems perfectly reasonable, right? Ahem.

As per usual we had sufficiently over-indulged on everything the kingdom could serve up and when the sun began to dip low in the sky our crew, and 98,000 of our closest friends, migrated instinctively towards Cinderella’s Castle for what was sure to be the most beautiful fireworks display at the ball. We were staking our territory (read: 2-foot square of concrete) for the big show when it hit me suddenly like a hot brick to the face.

Oh, Jesus. Where is Brennan.
He was just here, right? Right?!
Or, wait. Was he?
When did I last see him?
Didn’t we get off that ride together?
Wasn’t he behind me?

I blamed my older son for not staying by him.
I blamed my younger two kids for needing so much attention.
I blamed the crowd for making it hard to see or move quickly in any direction.
I blamed my husband for, everything.
And then I stopped blaming and I cried.


The next ten minutes shifted into slow motion and thrust me into the most desperate of places. As I looked out across that sea of unknown faces and bodies all swarming mercilessly, I wanted to scream out EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU NEEDS TO MOOOOOVE SO I CAN FIND MY BRENNAN.

I came unhinged.

Was he safe?
Was he crying out for me?
Was he scared?
Standing still?
Did he think I left him on purpose?
Did we have a plan in case we got split up? Oh my god we didn’t have a plan.


And then the darkest of thoughts came rushing into my mind like snipers and in seconds they annihilated any shred of hope that was clinging to my heart.

What if he is hurt.
What if he is in the arms of a predator.
What if we don’t find him.
What if I never see his sweet face again.


The what-ifs grabbed me by the throat and tightened their grip until I was left gasping for air. I hadn’t watched closely enough. I took my eyes off of him and in a moment he was gone from my side. I let my child down. I had failed as a parent. These thoughts strangled me until I could no longer see straight.

The parade would start in a few minutes and after that we’d be trapped on this island between the castle and the rest of the park. The streetlights began to dim in preparation for the show and darkness swallowed our view in every direction. We decided to split up and without words or a plan we moved in opposite directions frantically calling Brennan’s name into the night sky. I pleaded silently with the universe to give me another chance. I told her IF YOU DO THIS FOR ME I WILL NEVER AGAIN TAKE MY EYES OFF OF HIM.

With tear-stained cheeks and a rapidly beating heart in my throat I set off down a path feeling helpless but relentlessly determined. Just then as I looked up a group of people parted and in the space between, there he stood. My baby. Our eyes met and I don’t have much recall on those next moments, but I do know this: When he was finally wrapped in my arms again I instantly felt whole. Vulnerable and imperfect, but whole and OH MY LORD SO RELIEVED and just incredibly grateful.

Here is the part that has really stuck with me, though, you guys. In one of my lowest and most vulnerable moments as a parent and human I wondered WHY ME. Why MY child?! As though the pain would somehow be easier if it weren’t my own. As though the burden of that struggle would feel better if it just went somewhere else. ANYWHERE BUT HERE.  That is hard to write and even harder to admit. But then, when we create enough space to be brutally honest with ourselves we know that empathy is easy, until it’s hard.


Until it’s someone ELSE’S mistake. Until it is HER vulnerability and imperfection when she fumbles and takes her eyes off of that child for a minute and suddenly a knee is scraped or an eye is bruised or he slips away at the park or the mall or the grocery store or the zoo or the amusement park or for-god’s-sake from her own backyard. OR ANYWHERE. ANYTIME. Despite everything. And when we can distance ourselves from that discomfort it makes our rightness feel HUGE and that other person’s vulnerability small and insignificant. Maybe? It becomes so simple to say: DO BETTER. Instead of saying: I AM THERE WITH YOU AND I UNDERSTAND.

It could have been anyone’s child that went missing at Magic Kingdom on that day in June two years ago. But it was mine. And when it is HER turn for hard moments, or HIS, or YOURS, they are really mine, too. Ours. Aren’t they?

Because we are all imperfect. And vulnerable. And we all fumble and yearn for understanding from others. And empathy connects us. Right? It weaves together our hard moments and creates a safety net for us to land on when we stumble and fall. It reminds us that we are NEVER alone.

It says: I see your struggle, friend. I’m with you. And I understand.

Today, let’s be courageous enough to question our rightness and judgments and, instead, let’s offer this gift of understanding to one another. Even (and especially) when it’s hard.



12 thoughts on “Empathy is easy. Until it’s hard.

  1. alisonlonghurst says:

    A really well written post and I couldn’t agree more. We are all so quick to judge and the faceless nature of social media makes it even easier to judge than to be empathic. This is why I try to follow the mantra: never judge someone until you have walked a mile in their moccasins. Great to link up. Alison

    Liked by 2 people

    • choosingkind says:

      Thank you, Alison! Fear asks us to lead with judgment instead of empathy, right? Bleck. Grateful for your kind words and perspective and happy to be linking arms with you from afar. *Highfives* Jen

      Liked by 2 people

  2. lovelife462 says:

    Your post touched me to the deepest depths of my soul, because as a new, fellow parent I can certainly envision those exact circumstances happening to me.
    In fact, a few weeks ago my nine month old, took a really hard tumble. Like you, I freaked out because how could she do that when she still not really understand the mechanics of crawling? I never dreamed that she could ever roll on a plush bed that quickly!! I was right at the edge to stop her before she would hit the floor; what could happen? There’s no way she is that mobile, right? Wrong! She was perfectly fine, but like you, I initially panicked, thought of all the worst situations, before my head had cleared enough to inspect her.
    She appeared to be fine, but the worst circumstances-a concussion–would appear in the next 24-48 hours! I judged myself incredibly harshly for the next few weeks. I still have not really forgiven myself!
    I’m very new to WordPress, so I do not understand how to make it easy for you to read my blog from this post, but I would love to get your feedback!

    Best of luck in your continued parenting adventures,


    Liked by 2 people

  3. choosingkind says:

    Oh Kate! I’m so grateful for your kind words and thoughtful comments. Thank you for taking a moment to connect and share your story with me. Bet that was so scary for you. Parenting is HARD, huh? Time to forgive yourself fully, mama. I will definitely check out your blog! If you’d be interested in joining our growing conversation and community on Facebook please consider visiting @ http://facebook.com/choosingkind. Linking arms with you! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    • lovelife462 says:

      Parenting, hard, oh, no, never! Hee hee! It is the hardest and most wonderful thing I have ever done!
      Forgive myself? Yes, I am sure I should, it is very hard, especially in my circumstance. I have been trying though, especially since it’s only one of many experiences I’m sure surrounding my child that will send my heart into my throat.
      Thank you for offering to check out my blog! I look forward to hearing from you!



  4. D'Dream says:

    I think it animalistic instinct for human to be quick to judge others but themselves. I don’t know but some people feels pulling down, smearing and criticizing others down make them look good.

    This is beautifully written, thanks

    Liked by 2 people

  5. particlewoman says:

    What an incredible entry that brought tears to my eyes. I am so glad you found your son quickly. I’ve been to Disneyland many times, though never Disney World, so I could envision it well, the lights going down and the crowds and all. I’m so glad it all turned out ok, and can only imagine the fear that went with that experience. And, I so agree that our first instinct upon hearing anything like this, anything where kids run, or mishaps occur, or horrible tragedies occur, shouldn’t be any form of judgment, it should be, “how can I help?” And support, and understanding. Thank you for such a beautiful, well written entry!

    Liked by 2 people

  6. Léa says:

    Maya Angelo said many wonderful things and I enjoy her poetry. Unfortunately, not everyone has empathy. There are many people in society without a conscience at all. Alas I was born into such an environment and decided at a very early age not to hurt others as I had been hurt. I went on to get my degrees in psychology and worked as a therapist and also in Child Protection.

    Liked by 2 people

  7. Bridgetti says:

    Thank you for sharing your story. Made me want to hug you and say that I understand. I lost my two year old in a crowd many years ago too and thankfully we found him. Even after so many years I can still feel my heart pounding in my chest thinking about a gazillion what if’s. My two year old sister was also in my care many years ago and somehow she escaped my grip whilst crossing the road (I was twelve years old at the time) and very nearly got killed by a huge truck. The driver thought he had hit a dog and thankfully stopped and she got away with just a broken arm. I had nightmares for a very long time playing the what if thing in my head over and over. You are so absolutely right about empathy and it’s insane that as fellow humans its so hard to show and feel empathy and put ourselves in the shoes of others and not be so downright judgemental. I’m happy that your story had a happy ending too. For so many countless other parents that initial lump in the throat and tight chest never goes away. Thank you again for sharing your story.


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