My Karate Kid: Out of all my children, this is the one that laughs the most. He’s also the one that cries the most. I understand that.
Tiny arms moving gracelessly through his first form, face a mask of concentration and trepidation, tongue poking out between his teeth, just like his mom; I watched the teacher watching him, trying to take the mother out of my eyes and failing. “I hate karate,” he had said as we walked into class. My heart was tight in my chest for him. It’s hard to be new. It’s hard to be unsure. It’s hard to be little. But most of all it’s hard to want nothing more than to be a great Karate master and have your limbs continuously betray you.
The Sensei paused in front of him – it felt like eons before he nodded, his twinkling eyes belying his strict mouth – and said, “You did well.”
Even though I was pretending to read my book, the 5-year-old drama eclipsed the one in the paperback and I watched my son’s small chest puff up in pride. The tightness in mine loosened. But then I saw it spark in my son’s eyes and I knew what he was going to say before the impish words left his mouth. “No I didn’t.”
Allowing a small smile to purse his aged lips Sensei nodded in agreement before cupping my son’s chin and replying, “Listen. And next time you’ll do better.”
My breath caught as I felt the sting for him but as I watched my son resume his Horse Stance with renewed determination I realized that the Sensei’s admonition was relative to the ear of the hearer. I took it as a slight, a correction, a public admission of failure. My son took it as a hope, a correction, a public admission of faith. The fact that he could do better did not detract from the fact that he also did well. And he sensed his Sensei’s confidence that he would do better. Where I had responded to the emotion, he had responded to the honesty. However would he become a great Karate master unless he accepted that there was work yet to be done? Very young children are honesty personified.
I considered the last time I was measured. It was not long ago. As adults we do not usually perform the judging in so obvious a way but nevertheless it happens. And I will admit my first instinct was not to correct the generous appraisal in order to seek a more realistic assessment of my strengths and weaknesses. I wanted – deeply – to only hear the good. Because my sense of self is fragile, weakened from years of battering. But it is only through acknowledging our weaknesses that we grow stronger. I know this. My son who is strong and resilient and as yet uncrushed by expectation, he also knows it.
I want to know it. Of course, this means that I will stop talking long enough to listen to the wisdom of others. This means that I must be persistent in my work so that there will be a next time. And this shows that for every weakness there is a strength – nothing is so flawed that it cannot be beautiful. Even me.
As I watched him try more times than the Little Engine That Could, I thought of the many times and many ways I’ve been taught this lesson over the years:
On an airplane. My husband having lost his job, I was 9-months pregnant and flying alone with two toddlers. For the first time as an adult, I was going back home to stay with my parents. As I boarded the flight, I saw people sigh and roll their eyes. Nothing grates like a crying baby on an airplane. I knew this. I had no choice. Tears welled up in my eyes. It does not bode well when the mother is crying before her children and the plane hasn’t even left the tarmac. And then she came and sat decisively next to me. Tucking her book into her purse she said, “Don’t you worry about it honey. I have two kids at home and so I’m going to sit right here and help you with these babies. You’re going to be just fine.” And she did. And I was.
In the mall. At the time my son was three with emotions far too big for his tiny body, making normal toddler tantrums look like spring showers. He demanded Chinese food for lunch. I said no. With a speed and ferocity that still surprises me, he flipped over the stroller holding his infant brother, ripped a mannequin off a pedestal, tipped over a display table and took off screaming down the mall. By the time I’d righted the baby and grabbed my 4-year-old, my other son was long gone. Panicked, I sprinted after him. I finally found him at the far end of the mall, still sobbing, held tightly by a grandmother. My heart caught as I waited for a lecture. Instead she said, “I raised five of my own. I remember exactly what this was like. He’ll grow out of this and you’re going to be okay.” And he did. And I was.
At the gym. Sitting on the end of my treadmill and crying is not as uncommon an experience as one would hope. And that day I was a mess, snot and sweat oozing down my chest. I’d “failed” a race. I was training for another – it was supposed to be my redemption (I mean, what decent fitness blogger can’t run a marathon on a whim? THIS GIRL. I digress.) but the training wasn’t going well. I was tired and sore and spending all my energy taking care of a loved one fighting some serious demons. As the Gym Buddies took note of my sorry state, I expected a lecture. Or perhaps a pep talk. Or even a tampon joke. (You can never go wrong with a tampon! Well, you can. But that’s why they’re so funny!) But this time they just sat on the end of the treadmill with me and put their arms around me. “It’s hard, we know. Stay strong.” And it was. It ended up being so much harder than I could have comprehended at that moment. And I was stronger for it.
And so the voices of all those women tell me: You did well. Listen. And next time you will do better.
I did. I am. And I will.
Anyone else ever learned something cool from a martial arts class? What little lessons have you guys learned from listening lately?
My good friend from work is dying from melanoma. She has had bleeding on her brain from tumors and despite going through lots of therapy and having lots of faith and enduring a lot for the past ten months,, she found out a month ago that she has two more large tumors on her brain. She had to “resign” herself to hospice last week. She is very depressed and bitter.
My other friend from work visited her for a few hours yesterday. She wasn’t sure what she should do with her but she kept getting this strong feeling to ask her if she wanted her to help write her feelings for her family down. So with courage, she told her her promptings. After lots of tears, they started working.
I don’t know exactly why, but I got good shivers up and down my spine when I heard this. When I visited her last week, I only could think of myself and how I wanted to leave because she seemed so angry.
I hope to be more unselfish and think of ways to help instead.
Your story sent shivers up and down my spine too. Thank you.
Love these accounts of folks who just are THERE for others in the right way at the right time. And I’d be willing to bet that you, Charlotte, are one of those people who shows up and helps and you’ve probably touched far more people than you’d ever realize. (And Laura too!)
Rather verklempt! My biggest thought was that I HOPE that I would have the foresight to BE THERE for a stranger or friend the way these women were for you! Have I mentioned that I just LOVE your blog?
There are times like this that hurt and then later, when they give you strength to give the same help to others you see why they happened. After dealing with the loss of my Mum there was random kindness everywhere from those I least expected…and later I was able to help my friend as she lost her Dad slowly.
I love the attitude your son’s sensei has about things. We can do well and still need to improve. It is the learning and the improving that make us who we are and change us so we grow with time. Failing is not the end. It’s simply a marker for us to learn from, pick ourselves up and dust ourselves off and move forward and learn from and help others and ourselves.
One quote that makes tears well up in my eyes at how real it is to me and my life is from a comicbook film of all things, but it is so very true- “Why do we fall? …So we can learn to pick ourselves up”.
Beautiful post. I have a hard time with measuring up to my own expectations. I keep reminding myself that no one cares if I reach the physical goals I set for myself, I am the one who set them, I have control over them not the other way around. Yet time and time again I get caught up in the downward spiral of doubt and I can’t reach my goal with my negative attitude.
Thank you for your thoughts.
A very inspirational post today. We all fall, and get up, but with the help of others, it can be a lot easier. Sometimes I realize that I don’t appreciate the help that others give, the “random kindness” that is really not random.
It’s good to stop and think about it sometimes…
Your blog rocks and so do you!
Thanks for helping me be a better person today.
“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.”
Khalil Gibran
YOUR TITLE. wise words. great post.
Charlotte, I love you. I don’t know you IRL, but I feel like you are one of my very best friends, because you let us all into your loving heart. Thank you for this post. For all your posts, really, but this really hit home for me today.
Loved this post! I can definitely feel your sadness with the training disappointment-my training led me to a half marathon and a nasty injury that’s still yet to be diagnosed. I’m working on managing it and I’m about to sign up for a long 59 mile bike ride instead so I can give my body a rest!
Very inspiring post!!
My karate sensei brought tears to my eyes one day telling me kind feelings about me. He was not one to express feelings very often. That day always stays with me.
Thank you for this post,
These are beautiful stories and they really touched me.
I love your blog and I think you are amazing!
I never comment on blog posts but I have been loving your blog so much these days that I feel compelled to let you know. I so appreciate the honesty, insight, and tone of your posts and it seems that, as hard as your recent move has been, it is allowing you to be even more open and raw in your writing. Please don’t ever stop writing!
After suffering through two miscarriages in 3 months years ago, a friend of mine gave me a hug and simply said, “Hang in there.” Those words were better than anything else anyone said because it acknowledged that horrible things had happened without elaborating, but that it would get better. (I am not one to ‘talk out my feelings’ or ‘show emotion’.) I use this now when people seem to be having bad times. I hope it lets them know that I know things are bad, but that I am behind them 1000% rooting for them to get better. I don’t know if everyone gets the same encouragement from those simple three words, but they will always be profound to me.
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Every night I say a little prayer for a different person or persons, whether it’s someone I just met in passing or a dear friend in need. Tonight, I’ll pray for you, your family, and the strangers who helped you when you needed it the most. I think some people just have a little bit of angel in them.
wonderful, just wonderful. thank you.
you have done it again, “well said Sweet Charlotte”
I wish for you to relax and not worry about what others think so much Charlotte. Tough toodles for the non compassionate. You are too tough on yourself. P.S I agree with the amazing Mark Sisson, bugga the marathons – not healthy. Hugs for you missy.
You are too hard on yourself. I think you are amazing! What a wonderful woman to sit with you on the plane.
(Trying not to cry at work)
I really hope someday I can be the kind of person who sees what people need in moments of crisis and hardship.
Boy, do I hear this. Acknowledging and accepting my own need for help is a constant challenge. And sometimes, the line between independence and stupidity is so, so narrow, isn’t it?
Life’s currently lessons have been coming from Usher. No lie. I recently did some fitness instructor training, and one of the songs we used was his, “Numb”. And every time it came up in the rotation, one line smacked me in the center of the chest: “Keep on doin’ the same old things, and you expecting change. Is that really insanity, or just a losers’ game?”
Ouch.
Great message! Your boy is adorable and looks like you! Sounds like he has a great Sensei! Tough lesson to learn, sometimes it just feels like the worst possible moment and it is hard to realise that life goes on and everything will be OK!
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