It’s strange the clothing empathy and intuition come dressed in sometimes. For as long as I can remember, when making major decisions, I’ve always had a sense about what I should do, an intuition. I’ve gotten better over the years at listening to it, because when I haven’t, I’ve inevitably regretted the decisions I’ve made.
I’ve come by the intuition in a variety of ways. It’s never been a voice out of the sky, or a wise word printed somewhere. It’s usually just a sense, a knowledge that appears in my thoughts. Occasionally it’s been a dream, which sounds all new age-y and weird, but that’s not really how it’s been. It’s been a dream where there’s a concrete situation, and I’m in it, and when I wake up I know something I didn’t know before, and I know it on a level I never knew before.
Empathy has been the same. I haven’t always been as good at empathy as I am at intuition, but I’ve learned to recognize it when it’s there, subtle as it may be. And it still surprises me, as if empathy has been standing in the middle of the room with a sheet over it, and someone has just pulled it off. Ta-da, I get it. I understand what that person is going through.
I had the experience just recently. I had been thinking about, complaining, and generally not getting someone’s actions. And bam, there I was, in my own hot water, and realized exactly what had been going on. The situations weren’t the same, I had never talked to the person about it, but there empathy was, waving its hand, greeting me like it’d been there all along.
They’re strange creatures, empathy and intuition. Regardless of their forms, I’m grateful. Thankful, despite their unseen nature, that God speaks to me through them, when I’m listening.