how to walk a mile in someone’s shoes (without throwing their shoes at them)

A note before I begin. When I felt called into missions I knew the Lord wanted me to be authentic, and to be honest about what life as a missionary was like. Ironically, I had no idea that also meant to be authentic about the process of leaving the task He gave me in the first place. Here’s my story.

Have you ever lost nearly everything in your life? Have you ever had your life turned to dust overnight? Have you ever been asked to leave everything you knew with less than 24 hours notice?

I bet you can guess that I have.

Using words like “heartache” and “hurt” don’t begin to paint a picture. Words cannot describe the true grief and pain that comes from loss so great.

Sit there for a moment, looking around where you’re sitting and then in the building (or outside), imagine everything you’re surrounded by suddenly gone within a moment’s notice, from your chair to the roof over your head to the trees outside.

Here’s only a snapshot of the things that I lost:

My home with most of its furnishings
My closest friends (some of whom were like family)
My children’s stability
My children’s school
My hobbies
My community
My church
My city
My favorite places
My favorite food
My lifestyle
My job
My security
Japan.

The list is double that, but that’s private. I lost a lot of things. Not one area of my life remained untouched by pain. Pain so deep that I have a difficult time not pausing to write this more than two months later. Two months since we left our home in Japan.

But this post isn’t about my pain or loss. This post is to highlight the heroes in my life that helped rescue me from it, who walked alongside of me and carried me in the midst of the greatest pain I’ve ever known.

Heroes who truly walked a mile in my shoes.

Without going into detail, I suffered trauma and as a result of that trauma, we had to leave our home and ministry in Japan. I do not use the word “trauma” lightly, I know it’s weight all too well.

What I also experienced was the pain of secondary trauma: When during the aftermath of a traumatic event(s) you are injured by someone who was intending to help you. This post still isn’t about that, although I will touch on ways to prevent secondary trauma and what NOT to do in the paragraphs to come.

Let’s take a look at the phases I’ve come up with to help highlight what it’s like to begin the journey of healing from trauma.

The above photo was taken in a park in Kobe, Japan. I went there on a retreat and one of the highlights of that retreat was spending time with my best friend. We were friends who survived a lot together. This photo is from an afternoon where we rode down the biggest slides I’ve ever seen, it was not for the faint of heart. We are adults, and those long slides were not made for my American sized bottom, but I did it! We did it together, screaming the whole way. (Bonus: we even got some looks and smiles from a cute onlooking Japanese older couple).

Little did I know that the slide, and the fact I took this photo, would greatly symbolize my future of what we were to embark on together. After my trauma, my best friend and her husband were the number one source of healing for my family and my wounded soul. They are heroes of my story. I’m so thankful I got to witness their love for me and my family, because without it I may not have learned how to love so well.

Going through a trauma can be very disorienting, and your body and mind go through quite a shock. It makes me laugh that I took this photo, purposefully not standing on the foot markings while waiting for a train in Japan. Then, it symbolized the disorienting feeling of a different culture & not wanting to fit into a perfect cultural box, but today it symbolizes so much more.

How to walk a mile in someone’s shoes as they walk through trauma & grief, Step One: Sit with them and listen.

It was Easter evening around 10:30pm when I received the fatal blow that would set the wheels of trauma in motion and change my life forever. I hopped on my bike and rode over to my best friend’s home and sat with her and her husband at their dining room table. I shared with them what had happened to me, and they said and did nothing but listen. I remember it vividly. They didn’t try and trudge up the perfect Christian saying. They didn’t hammer me with Bible verses or paint a pretty picture of Romans 8:28. They didn’t try and tell me everything would be okay, because it wouldn’t. They just sat with me in the quiet. It was what I needed.

In the days to come before I left the country, eight days to be exact. They came to my house every single one of those eight days of hell. They were some of the only people I wanted to see, not because they were the only people around, but because I trusted them. I knew that I could ugly cry and wear smelly pajamas and have bad breath and still be loved by them.

My best friend sat with me in my bed, on tear-stained sheets that probably smelled of death, just being with me at my worst. She slept on my couch, did my laundry, folded my underwear. She had no expectations, not being afraid of the very unbecoming words this soon to be former-missionary would yell. (Side note, if you really want to love someone: if you can’t handle a few curse words, you’re in the wrong place & the wrong person for the job of walking through trauma with someone).

We’ve all walked on dead leaves before, like the ones pictured under my feet above. You can hear them crunching and breaking with every step you take. Those leaves are as frail as the heart in gut-wrenching pain. It’s very easy to crunch and break someone’s spirit during the shock & disorientation phase. Don’t be that person. Don’t be the person who brings their own baggage to the wounded person and dumps it on them, crushing their body and spirit. Don’t be the person that causes secondary trauma. Don’t be the person that further beats you down until you crumble under their force.

I wish it could go without being said, but here are some things you can do to avoid being someone who causes more pain (you can find these on a simple google search, no professional training required). (Please note these were not said to me by my spouse or family member):

1. Don’t yell at someone in trauma. (yes, this happened to me).

2. Never take CHOICES away from someone in trauma. (yes, this happened to me at least two or three times). Never be the judge that says someone cannot make a decision for themselves and decides to make a life-altering choice for them. Bad, very bad.

3. Don’t demean someone in trauma. (yes, also happened to me). Don’t say the following:

• “This is your fault” or “This is happening because of you” (or any similar sounding phrase).
• Get it together phrases like “you’d better get dressed” or “you’d better do _______ or _______ before you see someone”.
• “You’re not as good as ________” or implying that you’re better than the wounded person
• Phrases that imply someone is over-reacting
• Phrases that imply the wounded person is trying to be manipulative or hurtful

How to walk a mile in someone’s shoes as they walk through trauma & grief, Step Two: The Processing Phase

For me, this processing stage happened in the 8 days after I was traumatized when we were still in Japan, and in the approximately two weeks after returning Stateside to my family. We are still operating in crisis mode and in the “Downward slope & Disorientation” phase. Total time since my traumatic event: Day One up to approximately one month.

Here are some helpful & healing ways people walked with me and my husband through our processing stage:

Show Up (via Encouragement or Meeting tangible needs)
You can “show up” virtually or physically in real-time. Maybe that looks like sitting with someone on their living room couch. Maybe that means bringing a meal and seeing if someone wants a hug. Perhaps you send an email or FB message or DM.

I just wrote someone an email this week out of the blue, thanking them for chicken they made me two months ago. They will never know how healing that truly was for me. I could barely eat 300 calories per day and lost 15 pounds within a week, but I could eat some chicken someone made for me and delivered. I remember feeling so loved as I ate that chicken, still dressed in old pajamas and letting the chicken crumbs fall onto my kitchen counter and I stood and ate. I couldn’t even re-heat it, but man was it good cold.

I had so many wonderful people show up at my house after the event. They came and sat with me in my pain, no expectations, just listening. You cannot underestimate the healing balm of listening.

We went from a small four bedroom home in Japan to essentially being homeless vagabonds. I am so thankful to my parents for taking us in, talk about showing up! We also had other offers from family. After my family returned Stateside I had no idea what I was going to sleep on in my parent’s house or what my kids would have. Family, friends, our supporting church, friends from high school, my sister’s neighborhood friends, you name it, I could go on forever, showed up to provide tangible needs for our family. I even had my sister and mother in law fly to Japan to help us out in a pinch and get us home. Not to mention the countless individuals and fellow missionaries (and family) back in Japan who helped us pack up our home, sell our items and prepare other items for shipment (all within 2 weeks time). (Have you ever packed and move overseas in less than 2-3 weeks time?). Words cannot express how miraculous that was. God moved in mighty ways through individuals.

Small acts of kindness that really meant a lot were those little gifts that show you care for someone as they battle intense grief and face a long road of painful healing. Some that come to mind are: flowers, tissues in pretty boxes, snacks, scented candles, a good book, coffee or restaurant gift cards (even a small value), etc.

Letting someone know you care is one of the most important and vital ways to encouraging someone in trauma. **Note: Please be aware that due to the pain someone is experiencing, they may not be ready to receive you. But don’t hesitate to keep sending messages or notes of encouragement. Someone’s silence does NOT mean they don’t want to hear from you. Sometimes they can’t keep up with the sheer number of emails they receive or perhaps they are just too tired, but don’t take it personally.

Silence or staying away is not usually helpful (at least from my experience). Healing from deep hurt is a very lonely & isolating place. I read this quote once that read “Suffering is inevitable. Suffering alone is intolerable”.

For us, this phase started approximately one month after the trauma began. I wasn’t in quite as much shock; I was still reeling from what happened, and I entered into a time of deep mourning. However, I was getting my sea legs back so to speak, and beginning to come to terms with my new life Stateside. I began to become reoriented to life.

During this time I found it helpful when people continued to offer a listening ear, but by this point I had “told my story” so often that most of the time I just wanted to have normal conversation so I could feel like a real person. It always helped me when people asked me how I was doing, but didn’t expect that I’d talk at great length about my current situation. I was appreciative when people would let me change the subject.

I have found that during this phase I was more apt to receive “advice”. During the first phase, your world is spinning too much and being influenced by oodles of opinions was extremely difficult. I was stronger here and able to sort through the noise to decipher what was good or bad advice. But always be careful not to give advice where it’s not necessary to do so.

For those people in the inner circle — that handful of people you can trust with your life– there you can process what happened and get to the roots of your grief. That just isn’t something my mind could handle, nor needed to, with the greater population at large. Asking someone very detailed and personal questions is not helpful. Listening or giving encouragement in this phase is always helpful.

I am now two months from the event, and I am happy to be in the Self-Care and Hope Phase. I find that the mourning is less and less, the bouts of crying are starting to wane, and I am excited for what lies ahead. (Although, not being unfamiliar with the stages of grief, I understand that I’ll often waffle between all of the stages at once from time to time).

In this phase I enjoy reading healing books, talking at length with my counselor and sifting through the rubble to find hidden gems I had no idea were there. I have truly felt so many interesting emotions and feelings that I had never experienced before this suffering. It’s truly a beautiful gift from God (even though some days I hate the gift).

I enjoy spending time with others on a limited basis, slowly starting to re-introduce time with my old friends and meeting others & being able to have some short conversations. This extrovert has been living the life of a very introspective introvert for several months now, and my old self is starting to pop through.

I am hopeful looking towards the future and making small baby steps every single day that help me to meet goals. Some of the best advice I ever received early on was to take each day as it comes, just one day at a time.

And slowly, day by day, I look forward to continuing to rebuild my life. Maybe someday my life back here in the States will be as special, if not more so, than the life I left behind. Until then, I’ll hug my husband and children and keep trudging onward with God’s grace & strength.