Sharing Joy and Sorrow

Once upon a time, there lived a young tailor who was skilled at his craft and well-liked by everyone in his village. He had a cheerful disposition, was honest in all his dealings, and possessed a generous heart that endeared him to his neighbors. However, despite being surrounded by many acquaintances, he felt lonely, for he had never found a true friend—someone who would stand by him through both good times and bad.

The tailor’s name was Wilhelm, and he had been thinking deeply about friendship as he worked at his needle and thread. He had observed how people flocked to him when he was prosperous and cheerful, but how quickly they disappeared when troubles arose. This made him wonder: where in the world could he find someone who would genuinely share both his joys and his sorrows?

One bright spring morning, Wilhelm made a decision that would change his life forever. He laid down his needle, packed his few belongings into a traveling satchel, and announced to his neighbors that he was setting out on a journey.

“Where are you going, Wilhelm?” asked the baker, who had always been friendly when he wanted his clothes mended for free.

“I am going to search for a true friend,” Wilhelm replied. “Someone who will share both joy and sorrow with me.”

The baker laughed. “What a foolish quest! Friends are everywhere—look around you! We’re all your friends here.”

But Wilhelm shook his head gently. “I appreciate your kindness, but I seek something deeper. I need to find someone who will stand by me not just when times are good, but when they are difficult as well.”

The villagers thought Wilhelm had taken leave of his senses, but he was determined. He shouldered his pack and set off down the winding road that led away from his village and into the wide world beyond.

For many days, Wilhelm traveled through forests and meadows, over hills and across streams. He met all sorts of people along the way—merchants and farmers, soldiers and scholars, beggars and noblemen. Some were kind, others were rude, but none seemed to be the true friend he was seeking.

As he walked, Wilhelm developed a plan. Whenever he met someone who seemed like a potential friend, he would pose a question to test their character. He would ask: “If I were to experience great joy, would you share it with me? And if I were to face terrible sorrow, would you share that too?”

Most people thought this was an odd question. Some laughed, others looked puzzled, and a few seemed offended. Many assured him they would certainly share his joys—who wouldn’t want to celebrate good fortune with a friend? But when pressed about sharing sorrows, their enthusiasm notably diminished.

“Well,” said a wealthy merchant Wilhelm met at an inn, “I’d certainly raise a toast to your success! But as for your troubles… well, we all have our own problems to worry about, don’t we?”

A young nobleman he encountered at a crossroads was even more direct. “Share your joy? Absolutely, my good fellow! Nothing I like better than a good celebration. But share your sorrow? What a gloomy thought! Life’s too short to dwell on sad things. Much better to leave troubles behind and focus on happier matters.”

These responses disappointed Wilhelm greatly, but he pressed on, determined to find what he was looking for. His journey took him through many lands, and he was beginning to despair of ever finding a true friend when he came to a beautiful valley where a large town nestled beside a sparkling river.

As Wilhelm entered the town, he noticed something unusual. Unlike other places he had visited, where people seemed busy with their own affairs, here he observed acts of genuine kindness everywhere. A blacksmith was helping an elderly woman repair her cart for no payment, a group of children was sharing their bread with a hungry dog, and shopkeepers were patiently helping customers even when they bought very little.

Intrigued by this atmosphere of mutual care, Wilhelm decided to stay in the town for a few days. He found lodging at a clean, modest inn run by a middle-aged couple who welcomed him warmly and asked no intrusive questions about his business.

On his second morning in the town, Wilhelm was sitting in the inn’s common room when a young man about his own age entered. The stranger had kind eyes, a gentle manner, and was dressed in the simple clothes of a craftsman. He ordered a modest breakfast and sat at the table next to Wilhelm’s.

“Good morning,” said the stranger with a friendly smile. “I don’t recognize you—are you visiting our town?”

“Yes,” Wilhelm replied. “I’m traveling, looking for something I haven’t been able to find anywhere else.”

“And what might that be?” asked the young man, whose name, he learned, was Friedrich.

Wilhelm had grown cautious about revealing his quest too quickly, so he simply said, “I’m looking for something that seems quite rare in this world.”

Friedrich nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps I can help. I’ve lived here all my life and know this area well. What kind of thing are you seeking?”

There was something in Friedrich’s tone—a genuine interest rather than mere curiosity—that encouraged Wilhelm to be more open. “I’m looking for a true friend,” he said. “Someone who would share both joy and sorrow with equal willingness.”

Instead of laughing or looking puzzled, Friedrich considered this seriously. “That is indeed a precious thing to seek,” he said. “And quite rare. Most people are happy to celebrate with you but prefer to avoid sharing your troubles.”

“Exactly!” Wilhelm exclaimed, delighted to find someone who understood. “Everyone wants to share the feast but no one wants to share the famine.”

The two young men talked for hours that day, discovering they had much in common. Both were craftsmen—Friedrich was a carpenter—and both had thoughtful natures and gentle hearts. More importantly, they seemed to understand each other in a way that Wilhelm had never experienced before.

Over the following days, Wilhelm and Friedrich spent more and more time together. They walked through the countryside, worked side by side (Wilhelm helping Friedrich with a large carpentry project), and shared their thoughts about life, dreams, and the nature of true friendship.

After a week, Wilhelm felt he had found what he was looking for. Friedrich seemed to be exactly the kind of person who would make a true friend. But Wilhelm wanted to be certain, so he decided to test Friedrich in the same way he had tested others.

One evening, as they sat by the river watching the sunset, Wilhelm turned to his new friend and said, “Friedrich, I need to ask you something important. If I were to experience great joy—say, if I inherited a fortune or achieved some wonderful success—would you share that joy with me?”

Friedrich smiled. “Of course I would! I’d be delighted for your good fortune and would celebrate with you gladly.”

“And if I were to face terrible sorrow,” Wilhelm continued, “if I lost everything I owned, or became ill, or faced some terrible tragedy—would you share that sorrow with me?”

Friedrich’s expression grew serious, but he didn’t hesitate. “I would share your sorrow just as readily as your joy,” he said solemnly. “A true friend stands by you in darkness as well as light. If you faced hardship, I would face it with you. If you wept, I would weep with you. If you had nothing, I would share what little I have.”

Wilhelm felt his heart leap with happiness. Here, at last, was the friend he had been seeking! But he wanted to be completely certain, so he devised one final test.

“Friedrich,” he said, “I want to be sure you truly mean what you say. Tomorrow, I will pretend to receive news—either very good or very bad. Will you promise to react to this news just as you’ve described?”

Friedrich agreed, curious about what his friend had in mind.

The next morning, Wilhelm rushed into the inn where Friedrich was having breakfast, carrying a letter he had written himself the night before.

“Friedrich!” he cried, waving the letter dramatically. “The most wonderful news! I’ve just received word from a lawyer that a distant relative has died and left me his entire estate! I’m now a wealthy man—richer than I ever dreamed possible!”

Friedrich immediately stood up, his face lighting up with genuine joy. “Wilhelm, that’s wonderful news!” he exclaimed, embracing his friend warmly. “I’m so happy for you! This is cause for celebration! Let me buy breakfast for everyone in the inn to share in your good fortune!”

And Friedrich did exactly that, insisting on treating everyone in the common room to a feast in honor of Wilhelm’s supposed inheritance. He laughed and celebrated as if the good fortune were his own, showing no trace of envy or resentment.

But Wilhelm wasn’t finished with his test. That afternoon, he approached Friedrich with a different expression—one of deep sorrow and despair.

“Friedrich,” he said in a broken voice, “I must tell you terrible news. The letter I received this morning was followed by another one. It turns out there was a mistake—I have no inheritance after all. Worse, the lawyer says I’m actually responsible for my relative’s debts! I’ve lost everything I own, and I’m now poorer than when I started my journey. I don’t even have enough money to pay for my lodging here.”

Friedrich’s joy immediately turned to concern and compassion. Without a moment’s hesitation, he put his arm around Wilhelm’s shoulders.

“My dear friend,” he said gently, “I’m so sorry this has happened to you. But don’t despair—you’re not alone. I have some money saved, and my carpentry business provides enough for two people to live simply but comfortably. You’ll stay with me, of course, and we’ll share whatever I have until you can get back on your feet.”

Friedrich was so sincere in his offer that Wilhelm felt ashamed of his deception. Here was a man who truly meant what he said about sharing both joy and sorrow. Wilhelm decided he had to reveal the truth.

“Friedrich,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “I must confess something to you. The letters I received were not real. I wrote them myself to test whether you truly meant what you said about sharing joy and sorrow. I wanted to see if you would be as willing to help a friend in need as you were to celebrate a friend’s success.”

Wilhelm held his breath, afraid that Friedrich would be angry at being deceived. But Friedrich surprised him by breaking into a warm smile.

“So you were testing me,” he said with a chuckle. “I suppose I can’t blame you for that. After all, you’ve been disappointed by false friends before. I’m glad I passed your test—it proves that we truly understand each other.”

From that day forward, Wilhelm and Friedrich became the truest of friends. Wilhelm gave up his wandering life and settled in the town, setting up his tailor shop next to Friedrich’s carpentry workshop. They worked side by side, shared their meals, and supported each other through all of life’s ups and downs.

True to his word, Friedrich proved to be a friend who genuinely shared both joy and sorrow. When Wilhelm’s business prospered, Friedrich celebrated as if the success were his own. When Wilhelm fell ill one winter, Friedrich nursed him back to health without complaint. When Friedrich faced his own challenges—a fire that damaged his workshop, the death of his elderly parents—Wilhelm stood by him with equal loyalty and support.

Their friendship became legendary in the town. People would point to them as an example of what true companionship looked like, and many couples hoped their marriages would be as strong and supportive as the friendship between Wilhelm and Friedrich.

Speaking of marriage, this brings us to the most wonderful part of our story. For it happened that Friedrich had a sister named Clara, who was as kind and gentle as her brother. She was a seamstress by trade, and her skill with needle and thread matched Wilhelm’s own. More importantly, she possessed the same generous spirit that had drawn Wilhelm to Friedrich.

At first, Wilhelm and Clara were simply friends, brought together by Wilhelm’s friendship with Friedrich. But as time passed, they discovered that they cared for each other deeply. Clara appreciated Wilhelm’s thoughtful nature and his devotion to her brother, while Wilhelm was drawn to Clara’s kindness and the way she, too, seemed to understand the value of sharing both joy and sorrow.

When Wilhelm finally asked Clara to marry him, Friedrich was delighted. “There’s no one in the world I’d rather have as a brother-in-law,” he declared. “And no one who would make my sister happier.”

Clara and Wilhelm’s wedding was a joyful celebration for the entire town. But what made it especially meaningful was the way it strengthened rather than complicated the friendship between Wilhelm and Friedrich. Clara understood and cherished the bond between the two men, and Friedrich welcomed Wilhelm into his family with open arms.

The three of them lived in harmony for many years. Wilhelm and Clara raised a family of children who learned from an early age the importance of true friendship and mutual support. Friedrich remained their closest friend and most trusted advisor, becoming like a second father to their children.

As they grew older, the three friends faced all of life’s challenges together—times of plenty and times of scarcity, moments of great happiness and periods of sorrow. True to the promises they had made to each other, they shared everything that came their way, supporting each other through whatever circumstances arose.

Wilhelm often reflected on his long-ago journey to find a true friend. He had traveled far and wide, testing many people, before discovering that what he sought was not found through tests and challenges, but through genuine openness, trust, and mutual care.

The story of Wilhelm’s quest became a favorite tale in their town, told to children and young adults as an example of what to look for in friendship and marriage. The message was clear: true companions are those who will stand by you in sorrow as readily as they celebrate with you in joy.

When Wilhelm was an old man, sitting by the fire with Clara and Friedrich (both now gray-haired but still dear to him), he would sometimes think back to that young tailor who had set out to find a friend. He had found so much more than he had ever dared to hope for—not just a friend, but a brother, a wife, and a model for how people should treat each other.

“I was looking for someone to share joy and sorrow,” he would tell his grandchildren, “but I discovered that when you truly share everything with others, what you’re really sharing is life itself.”

And so Wilhelm, Friedrich, and Clara lived happily together, proving every day that the bonds of true friendship and love are the greatest treasures anyone can possess. Their story became a testament to the enduring power of loyalty, compassion, and the willingness to stand by those we love through whatever may come.

Moral: True friendship and love are not found in grand gestures or perfect circumstances, but in the willingness to share life’s full range of experiences—both its joys and its sorrows. Those who stand by us in our darkest hours are the same ones who make our brightest moments truly meaningful.