It is only after one is in trouble that one realizes how little

Hear the voice of Nellie Bly, fearless journalist and seeker of truth, who declared: “It is only after one is in trouble that one realizes how little sympathy and kindness there are in the world.” In this cry lies not despair alone, but the revelation of experience. For when life is calm, friends abound and words of comfort flow easily. But when storms rise, when fortune turns against us, then the masks of society fall away, and one discovers how rare are those who will stand with the afflicted. Bly, who descended into places of darkness to expose hidden suffering, knew this truth not as theory, but as lived reality.

The meaning of this saying is forged in the fires of hardship. In prosperity, sympathy is cheap; it costs little to smile upon the happy. But in trouble, when a person is cast down, true kindness is tested. The multitude, unwilling to share in sorrow, often withdraws. Neighbors avert their eyes, friends grow silent, and society, busy with its own burdens, passes by. Thus, Bly declares that it is only when we fall that we learn how shallow the well of human compassion often is. Her words sting, but they are honest, born from the bitter encounter with indifference.

Consider the life of Job, the righteous man of Scripture. When stripped of wealth, health, and family, he turned to his companions for solace. Yet instead of sympathy, they offered blame, moralizing that his suffering must be his fault. Their words deepened his wounds rather than healing them. Job’s story reflects the very truth Nellie Bly speaks: that in the hour of trouble, when one most longs for kindness, often there comes not comfort, but judgment or abandonment. And yet, the few who do remain loyal shine like stars in the blackness of night.

Nellie Bly herself walked into the shadowed corridors of a New York asylum, feigning madness to reveal the cruelty endured by its inmates. What she found was not kindness, but neglect, indifference, and abuse. Her investigation showed the world how those already suffering were abandoned by the very institutions meant to protect them. And in this, she uncovered the harsh truth that sympathy is rarer than people believe, and that the vulnerable are often left voiceless unless someone dares to speak for them. Her words thus carry both lament and challenge.

Yet in this lament lies a call to action. For if kindness is scarce, then it becomes the duty of the awakened soul to multiply it. If sympathy is rare, then each of us must become its bearer. Trouble is the crucible that reveals who we are—not only to ourselves but to those who watch us. Will we be the ones who pass by the fallen traveler, or will we be the Samaritan who kneels, binds the wounds, and shares the burden? The world may lack kindness, but each person has the power to increase it.

The lesson then is this: do not wait until others are in despair to consider your response. Train your heart daily in small acts of sympathy, so that when great troubles come to those around you, your instinct will be to comfort, not to withdraw. Offer your presence, your listening ear, your helping hand, even when words fail. Remember that to the one in sorrow, even the smallest gesture may be a lifeline.

So, children of tomorrow, engrave this upon your hearts: when others fall into trouble, do not leave them to discover the world’s lack of sympathy. Be the one who brings light into their darkness, the one who shows that kindness is not extinct. For though Nellie Bly spoke truthfully of its scarcity, she also proved, by her own courage, that one person’s compassion can awaken the conscience of nations. Let her words be both warning and inspiration: a reminder of the world’s hardness, and a summons to soften it with your own hands.