Yesterday was not an awesome day.
Mostly, I had personnel issues.
They required some attention and cleanup.
Awkward conversations.
Redistribution of work.
As my frustrations mounted, a little thundercloud took shape over my head.
After a long work day, I took my 7-year-old (and my thundercloud) to karate.
I hoped watching her would cheer me up.
So, I sat down in a chair to enjoy.
Admired my little wisp of a daughter in her bright white Gi.
One of the youngest and smallest in a dojo bursting with the energy of 15 kids.
Things didn’t go smoothly.
I cringed while she too, had an ‘off day.’
First, she ATE it during sprints.
(The kind of fall where you land on your face and skin your elbow.)
Amidst the sprinting chaos, no one but a couple parents saw the fall.
She stumbled to her feet and caught up with her team.
Only I could see the pain and embarrassment as she continued through class.
Only I could see the little thundercloud form over her head.
Later, they tried roundhouse kicks.
Already shaken, she became frustrated at not getting the kick.
I saw the tears spilled over her tiny cheeks.
I watched as she brushed them away impatiently with the sleeve of her uniform.
Only to have more slip out.
Her teacher, Master C, spotted the distress.
He didn’t send her over to mom.
He didn’t coddle her or tell her to take a time out.
Instead, he coached her through her form and her tears, encouraged her and patted her warmly on the shoulder when she nailed it.
Later, he gathered the class on their knees and spoke to them about how attitude will affect your ability.
The importance of believing you can do it.
The rest of class, I watched my kid have a comeback.
Confidence renewed, she proudly demonstrated her kata with 3 other students.
Her kicks were strong and sharp.
Her punches were powerful.
And it struck me how beautiful a comeback really was.
Because it was better than a perfect roundhouse.
Coming back after a stumble is where real grit and real beauty are found.
So, I start today, fresh, ready for my comeback.
Hello Tuesday.
Thanks, Master C.