Empathy is Not One-Size Fits All

Today, I'm working from my home office. Following my mom's funeral this weekend, I haven't felt up to going into our main office. I'm finding I'm not quite ready to be face-to-face with live people just yet. After two very challenging months, I'm trying to get back into a regular routine.

On August 9, we lost my beloved Father-in-Law, Dick DeShields. Dick was very special to me, and losing him was hard. The Saturday before he died, Brian and I sat with him, played Phase 10, and shared stories about our recent trip to upstate NY. He hadn't been doing well in the months leading up to his death, but it came more quickly than any of us were expecting. Dick and I had a special relationship that was just ours. We would talk about leadership, business, and social issues. He would send articles home with Brian because he thought they might be helpful for me as I was growing Crescent Leadership. He'd also send home magazine clippings of the cakes he wanted me to bake for him. That was his superpower. He made you feel like the most important person in his world. If you haven't already, you'll get to experience the joy of reading about Dick in the Curiosity Touchstone chapter of 9 Leader Touchstones. He, for me, was the embodiment of Curiosity. And that's why, at 91 years old, he was still the most interesting person in the room.

August and September turned out to be busier than we expected. We brought on a new client and traversed the country, working with teams on touchstone cultivation and Multi-Year Evolving Strategy. I dove back into my research, and my mind started to formulate the makings of a new book. And then, I had the privilege of using that new research to host one of the most invigorating leadership team coaching sessions I've hosted. These bright moments kept me busy and my mind off what was swirling around us.

I flew back to Greenville on September 25, only to discover that two days of microbursts had knocked out power at my daughter's school and throughout the Upstate of South Carolina. These storms had saturated the ground shortly before what would become the most destructive hurricane to ever hit our area. I jumped off the plane and went straight to pick up Madi, and we started quickly prepping for Hurricane Helene scheduled to make landfall two days later. Madi would end up not returning to school for two full weeks. We woke up Friday, September 27, surrounded by devastation. We were safe, but many friends and family in our community and in our beloved Western North Carolina, only 45 minutes away, were not so lucky. For the next eight days, we would experience what now feels like minor inconveniences—no electricity or hot water, living away from our pets and home out of a suitcase, and feeling helpless to support our loved ones who had lost everything.

As all this was happening, my own mother, Beth, who took me in when I was 16, was nearing the end of her battle. Even though she was forever changed after contracting COVID a few years back, she courageously continued to push to be here with us just a bit longer. Knowing loss of this kind is coming doesn't make it easier, but it does give you time to think. For me, the moment I really felt her loss was when we were sure it would be the last time we'd hear the doctors say… "She is nearing the end." I'd been holding on so tight that I didn't feel it until then. And then it ripped through my heart and rushed out of my soul. In those moments, I had a flash forward... I envisioned a version of my life where Beth, Harry, and Cody hadn't taken me into their home all those years ago... 32 years ago.

I often talk and write about my biological mom, Phyllis... how she gave me my grit and resilience. I know I would have survived it because of what she instilled in me. But Beth changed my heart and softened the protective wall I'd built around myself. She showed me that genuine love of the purest kind comes without conditions. She and Harry helped me understand that family goes deeper than blood and well beyond the traditional definition. In so many ways, they saved me. This past Saturday, we celebrated her remarkable life and all the abundant gifts she left with each of us.

Today, when I woke up, I had no intention of writing about the past two months. I woke up, dressed, made breakfast and lunch, took Madi to school, and then hosted a call with my new cohort of eCornell students. When I got to the next item on my to-do list—"Write article or post about Empathy for Touchstone month"—I sat frozen in front of my computer. My mind was blank… tabula rasa. I kept searching for meaningful words to share with you about the importance of empathetic leadership. Nothing. I walked downstairs to get a sip of water. Nothing. I played with the pups for a few minutes. Nothing.

And then something beautiful happened.

I heard a light tap on the front door. I opened the door just as a FedEx delivery truck pulled away from our drive. I looked down to see an unexpected box on the welcome mat. I picked it up and immediately recognized the name and address. The package was from our client, PhiloWilke Partnership, in Houston, Texas.

I cut the tape open, lifted the box lid, and sunshine poured out.

We have partnered with the PhiloWilke team for nearly three years. This is one of the hardest working, dedicated teams we support. In the midst of a huge move, traveling to conferences, hosting conferences, and designing innovative, life-saving hospitals and labs, they took the time to create the most brilliant box of sunshine I'd ever seen. And we know a thing or two about fun boxes at Crescent Leadership. Every team member signed a card, and many members sent individual cards with messages of support and love for our family and our entire team. Their words are more than platitudes. They shared stories about their own experiences with Hurricane Beryl in Houston. Some team members are still displaced from their homes. Some have family who live in Western North Carolina and the Upstate of South Carolina, so they are hurting as they watch from afar. One team member wrote, "The sun always shines after a storm." Her words couldn't be any more spot on. The skies have been remarkable since the rain and wind finally passed.

…But it took this beaming box of sunshine to calm the storms still raging inside me.

In 9 Leader Touchstones, my definition of the Empathy Touchstone is specific for Leader-First Leaders—"Rooted in sincere care for others' well-being, Empathy is the ability to understand and share someone else's emotions and perspectives." While we've said this before, we'll continue to drive this message every time we talk about the Empathy Touchstone. A demonstration of empathy is not "one-size-fits-all." What makes it unique is the balanced head-heart approach. When Leader-First Leaders demonstrate empathy, they do so first with their heads—seeking to understand. Next comes their hearts—genuinely sharing in others' experiences.

It was evident that the intention behind the contents of this "box of sunshine" was rooted in sincere care. The humans who created it took real time to understand and share in our experiences over the past few months. That's why the box was so meaningful. That's why I felt a tangible release after receiving it.

I've been told that there was supposed to be a Nerf Gun inside this box, but it was too big to send. I fully intend on joining in on the office Nerf Gun War next time I'm in Houston.

Thank you, PhiloWilke Team.