"I Know Just How You Feel"

by Maggie Rowe

Have you ever shared a health concern, family drama, or personal disappointment with a friend only to have them say, “I know how you feel!” before launching into a litany of what happened to them?

I’ve been guilty of this far too often. ("I’m so sorry to hear about your miscarriage. I had one, too. . ." ) We mean well, don’t we, when we seek to identify with a friend’s pain by reciting a similar situation of our own.

It’s a form of empathy, of vicariously experiencing the thoughts and feelings of another. And we truly can comfort others with the comfort we ourselves have received.

But can any of us really know exactly how it feels to be in another person’s place, to wear their shoes?

We were invited to put our feet under many Norwegian tables this past month—a busier social calendar than we might enjoy in a year elsewhere.

In every home or apartment we visited, no matter how modest, a small bench stood in the entryway where guests could sit to remove their footwear. Upon departure, the long silver tongue of a shoehorn was produced, making it easy to slip our shoes back on.

When we arrived back in North Carolina late last week, I took a closer look at the decorative inscribed shoehorn displayed on the wall of what used to be Mom’s sitting room.

It hung in my parents’ home for decades as it now does our, yet I never took time to read the words:

“Den vet best hvor skoen trykker, som har den på”

Loosely translated? “Only the one wearing the shoe knows where it pinches.”

This traditional Scandinavian saying means that the person experiencing a difficulty, burden, or problem understands it better than anyone else. The rest of us may offer advice or sympathy, but we don't fully know what someone else is going through.

The next time a friend mentions a situation causing them pain, I hope I resist the temptation to tell them what happened to me and instead, simply say, “Tell me more. I care.”

Only the person wearing the shoe truly knows where it pinches. Sometimes the greatest kindness is not offering answers but making room for another person's story.

Maybe that’s a lesson worth carrying with us long after the shoehorn has been put away.

(Maggie is our guest writer this week. Read more at https://www.maggierowe.com/)