My husband and I have the same size feet. We can literally walk a mile in each others shoes. But I don't walk in his shoes.
I don't walk his path. My path is so much easier to understand.
I worked alongside my husband one day this summer. It pushed me to have more than a glimpse of his path. At the end of the day, I had a much better understanding of him. He did the same thing with me. He walked my path for a day. And we understand each other more deeply now.
I don't walk in other people's shoes because they aren't comfortable, not my style, not my choice. But taking that time to step into them brings clarity and empathy that would be absent otherwise.
We also have to let people walk in our shoes.
Something profound happens when we let others see our path. You learn shared commonality, pain. When we allow our shoes to be walked in, we allow others to do the same. Being vulnerable creates space for healing and understanding. We have heard more stories of loss since sharing our story than ever before.
By sharing our shoes, we invite others to share their shoes; their hurts, their pain, their triumphs, their joys. We can bring meaning to their life, their story, their path.
None of us are called to the same path, but we can learn so much by walking alongside others on their path.
