How an Anonymous GI Saved my German Grandmother - An Empathy Story

Before I begin - it's been a week, hasn't it?  In all of my calls/interactions this week, I've sensed a deep weariness.

Perhaps it has something to do with the slog of January.  "It just feels so sad to drive around at night without the Christmas lights" my son.

And then there is the tumult of the news cycle, designed to keep you off balance, wondering what will come next.

Non-profit clients scrambled, government workers went back to the office, and planes crashed into rivers.

It is all a lot.  

"I feel like I'm going into a freeze mode" a friend wrote to me.  

And that can be a temptation, no matter what your political ideology or leaning, in the midst of unsettled times.  To become paralyzed, unsure of what to do or say in the face of vast uncertainty.

After all, do our small actions really make that much of a difference in the grand scheme of things?

And that resignation makes me consider the nameless GI who saved my grandmother...

In the final, desperate months of WWII, my grandmother scrambled over the rubble in Cologne, Germany.

She was there with her boss, picking through the remains in search of a friend.

The German army – her countrymen – launched shells from across the river. One exploded nearby, killing her boss instantly.

She lay in the street as shells continued to rip through the air, bleeding onto cobblestones.

An American GI saw her unconscious collapse. He ran out into the barrage, picked her up, and took her to an American field hospital.

She stayed there for weeks as American nurses removed the shrapnel and tended to her wounds.

I think of that unnamed American GI who looms large in our family story:  Amelia was part of the "enemy" nation, wounded by her own side. He wasn’t responsible for her – she was just one more German.

And as I sit here, in 2025, answering emails as a Workplace Empathy Consultant – I’m drawing inspiration from his actions. I sent four of Amelia Katerina Rott Mindrebo’s great-grandchildren out the door to school this morning because of his empathy and courage.

Sometimes we wonder about these big, dramatic moments – “If I were in ____________ situation, what would I do? Would I be brave and kind or would I shirk/hide?”

And while we can’t, ultimately, know who we would be until we are in the moment, I know that empathy and kindness and courage don’t emerge from a vacuum. These traits are forged (or not) in a hundred small moments.

Moments where it would be easier to turn away, to just keep going in the other direction or onwards with the task instead of caring for the person.

It begins with paying attention and taking small actions –

For me, this week, it was sending donuts to a colleague recovering from surgery and a card to another whose father just died.

It was taking time to set my phone down and really be present with my daughter, who was flooded by not having the right sweatpants.

It was asking (and listening) about a friend’s recent trip instead of just jumping into the next update/to-do.

It was taking an inconvenient call that pushed back the rest of my schedule by 30 minutes because the person on the other side of the line really needed to talk.

Don't despise the power of your kindness and care.  May hope and goodness find you this week.  May you be the hope and goodness that finds someone else.

Movie Recommendation

One of the most marvelous films I've watched over the last few years is A Hidden Life directed by Terrance Malik.

Malik wrestles with this very theme - the impact of the individual in turbulent times.  Set in WWII, the story centers on the true story of Franz Jägerstätter and his quiet, steadfast refusal to align with the Nazi regime.  

I cannot recommend this film highly enough - we've watched it for family movie night twice and invited friends to join.

The final quote, at the close of the film, is by George Eliot,

"for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the humber who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs."