My boys began a martial arts class this week.  I still can’t remember what it’s called or how to pronounce it.  This is something that they have wanted to do for a long time and Derek and I finally decided to give this a whirl.  Please picture the following and create the scenario in your mind…

We walk into the class.  Everyone is in uniform (except my boys) because the lady who took my money said, “Have them wear comfortable clothing.”  My boys are the only new kids to the class.  Dayton is the youngest in the class.  There are rules that we don’t know and don’t understand.  We have a shaky introduction with the instructor.  He begins and insane warm up, and begins to scare the pants off of me!  As a doting mom, about every 30 seconds, I have the urge to take a photo of my boys.  I’m too scared to take out my camera in fear that this will be breaking some unspoken rule.  The boys are following the pack and hangin’ in there.  I’m in knots!  We move on to the self defense part of the class.  I’m quite certain that the boys are going to leave with a broken vertebra and never walk again.  They survive and are laughing (But not too much laughing or they will be ordered to drop and perform push ups). I’m relieved to see they can still walk.  Then, they begin the “forms” (whatever that is…) portion of the class.  Everyone is yelling random Korean words as they move like mannequins that are perfectly in sync.  My boys were pulled out and taught by some older black belts while the robots continued with their advanced forms.  I’m dying inside thinking “What I have gotten them into?–they have no idea what they are doing!  My poor babies…!”  The end of class approaches.  For me, it was comparable to running.  The end is near, it’s almost over, soon the pain will stop!  They turn toward the flag, again they begin chanting Korean words.  My boys have an excellent phonetic base so they were able to fake it. 🙂  They sit and meditate trying to find and balance their ‘energy.’  I can barely resist taking a photo once I see that Dayton is meditating (without laughing) with his eyes closed, but I’m still too frightened that I’ll be kicked out of the building and never allowed back in or worse, ordered to drop and give “him” 10!  It’s finally over.  The boys look over at me while I’m resisting the urge to jump up, hug and kiss them all over and ensure that their self concept is still intact.  They both shoot me a smile.  They are proud of themselves. 

BRAVERY—Once I was able to breathe and lower my heart rate, I realized that I was the only one that had been nervous and on the verge of vomiting for the past hour and a half.  Although at first, the boys’ faces flushed a little with uncertainty, they were amazingly brave throughout the class.  They followed each direction given, tried their best, exhibited tenacity and NEVER GAVE UP!  For them, it wasn’t a confidence shaker, but rather a confidence builder.  It isn’t easy to be new, to be low man on the totem pole, or to not yet have the skills to be as successful as those who surround you, but my little guys stuck with it and showed what they are made of!  What courage!  I won’t say they were fearless because I think all three of us were overflowing with fear, but what makes the experience special is that they continued despite the fear.  They are fantastically made by Him and demonstrated character traits that made me one proud Mama.


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