“She was wearing a little blue tee shirt, and had the adorable, scraggly blonde hair of one far too busy enjoying childhood to bother with such trifles as hairbrushes…“

More than a month ago, with a tear in my eye and an ache in my chest, I sat down and wrote these words. Over time, they developed into the introduction for my latest article. Now, here’s a tidbit about my blogging habits: most, if not all, of my articles are written on my laptop, and only come into existence after a great deal of forethought and careful planning. Empathology was the exception to that rule. The introduction for that special article – now so very near and dear to my heart – was written spur-the-moment on my phone, and was born from a simple desire to journal my thoughts after a long night of crying. A long night of crying over a little girl I had never met, and in all likelihood, would never meet or even see again. The first two paragraphs of Empathology were written as a personal memento of sorts. Just something I wanted to jot down before time passed and rendered the details fuzzy. A sentimental little keepsake about a moment in time that touched my heart. But as I continued writing, I came to believe that my experience was meant to be shared with others. Admittedly, I was a bit apprehensive to reveal myself as having been so emotional about something that seemed so trivial. I’m not the sort of person who wears my heart on my sleeve, talks openly about my feelings, or cries in public, so putting myself out there in such a vulnerable way did kind of give me the shivers, if I’m being honest! However, the more I thought about it, the more I wanted other empaths to know that they are not alone, that empathy is a gift, and that there are healthy ways of using that gift.

(If you have not read Part I yet, please do so now at Empathology: The Study of Surrogate Suffering before continuing on with this month’s article.)

So…why are we here today talking about Empathology again? Do we really need a Part II? Haven’t I already said all that needed to be said on that topic? (I can just hear it now: “Come on, Chaste…get some new material already! We’re ready to move on.“) All will be revealed in good time, my dear reader. This month’s article, Empathology Part II: (Dreams Really Do Come True!) is dedicated to all you hopeless romantics out there. The ones who, like me, love nothing better than a happy ending. And it’s dedicated to my new friends: “the little candy machine girl” and her precious family.

Yes, you read that right. Finally, 43 days after the fateful candy machine incident, I got the privilege of meeting that darling child with the sweet tooth. Not only do I now know the name of that little one whose tears moved my soul and who stands as the living, breathing inspiration for a 3,000+ word article, but she and her family now know mine. Dreams Really Do Come True! And here’s how this happy little meeting came about:

After I wrote Empathology, I entertained a small flicker of hope that maybe someday “the little candy machine girl” (as she has affectionately come to be known in our home) and her family would one day read the article that she inspired. I knew this was probably only wishful thinking, as I had never once seen this little girl or her family in the 14 years of part-time service that I’ve contributed to our local restaurant. The restaurant I work for is an exceedingly popular dining establishment, and through it I have become well-acquainted with countless families in our community. These folks were strangers to me. Though I desired to see the family again, I needed to accept that perhaps they were just passing through, that our paths would likely never cross, and that the chances of them ever knowing that an article had been written in tribute to one of its members was slim to nothing. I had to follow my own advice from Empathology, and surrender, not solve! I prayed over the little candy machine girl’s life, gave the situation to God, and chose to trust that she was happy and loved, despite that one tiny glimpse I had seen into her life. She’ll be fine, I kept repeating to myself (my husband kept reminding me of this, too…that man is the epitome of patient love and is forever my emotional support human), there’s no reason to worry so much. For crying out loud, no one’s died yet over not getting some candy! She. Will. Be. Just. Fine. I decided to stop reenacting the pitiful candy machine scene in my mind and to start reacting in the only way I could: I printed out a copy of Empathology, put it in a manila envelope decorated with playful stickers, took it to work, tucked it away in the office, and waited to see if her family ever came back so I could gift it to them. Weeks passed. I had long recovered from my empathic distress – though I still held the experience close – and had come to terms with the assumption that this unknown family was from out of town. And then, one night at work while I was bussing tables, a woman walked by me. She was wearing a purple blouse. She was sporting a ponytail. She was carrying a baby. She was – hold the phone, that’s the little candy machine girl’s mother! My heart started beating wildly. (Curse of the reserved personality!) My eyes started flooding with tears. (Curse of the sensitive heart!) My hands reached for the manila envelope to be ready at just the right moment. (Blessing of the reliable personality!) My feet walked over to the woman. (Blessing of the sentimental heart!) I took a deep breath to steady my nerves as I approached her. “Ma’am?” I ventured shyly. Being the overthinker that I am, I had already braced myself for the worst. Will she wonder why I’m bothering her? Will she wish to be left alone? Will she think I’m weird and that this whole thing is ridiculous? She turned to face me. The world stopped turning for a moment, it seemed. And then? The kindest eyes met mine, followed by the warmest of smiles. “Yes?” she responded. I knew in an instant she was a kindred spirit…

I told her the story. She led me to her table. I gave her the manila envelope. We exchanged names. She introduced me to her three children, one by one. She informed me that her hard-working husband/her children’s hard-working daddy was working late and was therefore unable to eat supper with his family that night. (I respect him already!) We talked, we laughed. We parted ways, new friends in the making. I am now confident that the little candy machine girl and her two siblings are loved beyond measure. The Lord didn’t have to give me a happy ending, but He did that and then some. He gave me a new beginning: the beginning of a friendship with a precious family. This all came about because she was wearing a little blue tee shirt, and had the adorable, scraggly blonde hair of one far too busy enjoying childhood to bother with such trifles as hairbrushes. Thank you, God, for letting me meet her and her beautiful family. Thank you, beautiful family, for opening your heart to a stranger and making my soul rejoice.

I wonder: is it just possible that you–lovely mama to the little candy machine girl–have the heart of an empath, too? I saw compassion in your eyes.

To sum up, all of you be harmonious, sympathetic, brotherly, kindhearted, and humble in spirit. – 1 Peter 3:8

Whoever receives one child like this in my name receives Me, and whoever receives Me does not receive Me, but Him who sent Me. – Mark 9:37

For God’s glory,
Mrs. Dustin Bolks

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Chaste Bolks is a church of Christ preacher’s wife, living in Northwest Iowa. She began her monthly blog, Destress the Damsel, in January of 2014. Her favorite things include unlocking truths from God’s word, spending time with her husband, playing with her kitties, reading a quality book, watching a wholesome movie, mastering a retro video game, keeping house, and soaking up the sunshine. She is passionate about sharing Biblical Womanhood in the hopes that some woman, somewhere, will be better for it.