“It’s not fair!” When I was a child, I spouted these words more than once. Now, as an adult, I confess that I still feel this way sometimes, not only for myself, but for others—the oppressed, the helpless, the innocent.

If I thought things weren’t fair in the States, I was shocked at the injustices in Albania. Life is even more unfair for Albanian women. Trust is a rare thing here, and it is very difficult to gain. Some of the women are finally beginning to trust me and open up their hearts. The pain hidden there is overwhelming. It’s not so obvious at first; it’s concealed well. Their welcoming smiles, their kisses on my cheeks, their amazing hospitality and their laughter cover up a core of deep sorrow and hopelessness. Their hopes have been dashed generation after generation until they are afraid to hope any longer.

As I draw closer to Albanian women, I’m discovering that empathy costs more than I had anticipated. When you hear about something dreadful happening to someone far away, you feel sorry for them. But when it’s someone you know, the emotions are much more intense. When it happens to your family member or close friend, it’s as though it happened to you personally.

This is what it takes to love and sympathize the way Christ did and does. Though it is agonizing to open my heart to my friends’ pain, it also helps me see them through the eyes of Jesus. This, then, is the answer to my prayers, and it inspires me more then ever to do all I can to help them to find, know and trust the One who is willing and able to take their burdens and exchange them for rest, joy, peace and one day a crown of everlasting life.

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