I stood on the dojo floor, trying to steady my thoughts. After watching the example three times, I still couldn’t even remember the first move. Other students passed by, seemingly without effort, turning these kicks and stances into a graceful dance. I noticed my friend, Sarah Beth, moving with the higher-ranking cue belts, learning steps I had yet to begin.
She’s my age. Why is this hard only for me? I thought.
My confusion swelled, fixating on thoughts of Mom. She lost so much from the ravages of Alzheimer’s disease. Her once creative and enthusiastic persona was now a shell of her former self. Last April, we placed her in a memory care facility. Defensiveness invaded my heart as I remembered recent conversations with Jeff,
“I’ve noticed you forgetting more. Maybe you need to write things down,” he had suggested.
Another day, “You already told me about that. Maybe we need to get you checked.”
“I DON’T have memory loss!” I responded. “I just multitask too much. It’s normal to forget when life is full of stress and chaos,” I’d caught my tone that day, realizing that my defensiveness could seem like more evidence that maybe something WAS wrong.
Focus! I told myself. Brandon, my kind instructor, came over to ask why I was not practicing. As a college student focusing on sports injuries, Brandon enjoyed taking time to carefully explain and demonstrate karate techniques. He found ways to help it all make sense. The whole time he walked me through the moves of my kata, my mind fought the fear.
Maybe my memory really is slipping. This stance of anxiety kept my memory from grasping the material I tried so hard to learn.
Kata means form in Japanese. It is a sort of dance, full of grace and strength. Every move represents a defense against an attacker. Choreographed stances, kicks, and punches help karate students learn technique, coordination, and balance. Of course, memory is important in kata. We learn the bunkai or the meaning behind each move. Our motions are significant. These are not mindless steps. Besides being graceful, kata teaches us self-protective skills.
In Junior High, I was a three-time gym show dropout. Each year, I joined the other excited young girls, anticipating fun and graceful dancing. “We are Family” was our 7th grade selection. We would all have such energizing fun! Or would we? As each week passed, gym show practice became increasingly stressful and awkward. Everyone but me seemed to catch on quickly. I floundered over my two left feet. I just wasn’t a coordinated kid. Quitting the gym show always came with a big sigh of relief!
Now, at 50 years old, I compared myself to Sarah Beth, who used to dance ballet. No wonder she loved kata! My friend gracefully flowed through her kicks and low stances while I tried not to topple over. This had nothing to do with memory loss. I was simply out of my area of strength. When natural gifts were distributed, coordination was not in my basket. For me to learn these katas, it would take very humbling and repetitive practice. Should I quit like a middle-school-gym-show-drop-out? It sure seemed tempting!
For a few weeks, I couldn’t bring myself to discuss these inner battles with Jeff. I feared he would add to the list of reasons I needed to see a doctor. However, I suspected that my anxiety was causing this focus loss during class. I began practicing in the living room at home between classes.
I also began journaling, telling my Father all of my fears. I remembered that there are as many scriptures about fear as there are days in the year. But simply repeating a command, “Do not fear!” seemed easier said than done. “I know, Lord! I should trust You with my future. But Mom really did lose it and I might too!” In response, I read,
“Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own” (Matthew 6:34 NIV). I began to view potential memory loss differently.
Jesus said, “Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?” (Matthew 6:27 NIV) Yikes! I had been subtracting from the quality of Today out of my fear of “Maybe Tomorrow.” If my future did hold affliction of memory loss, Today became increasingly precious. I set down my journal and went out back to practice my kata one more time.
One day, I practiced so much that I began to dream of karate, kicking poor Jeff out of a sound sleep!
Finally, in January, the night of our green belt test arrived. It was a week before my 51st birthday. Jeff sat out in the lobby as I tried not to focus on his watchful presence. Did he see evidence that my memory was slipping? I had practiced every kata and the rest of my material almost daily.
Glancing to my right, I observed Sarah Beth. She appeared calm, ready for the event. Beside her, a teen tester clearly struggled with nervousness, announcing her name in a high, quick voice to the judges. I stopped looking around, fixing my eyes straight ahead. I remembered I would be judged on whether my eyes wandered. All I could do was my very best.
In the course of three hours, our group completed the testing material. Trying to focus on my pile of splintered boards instead of the mistakes I had made, I wiped the sweat from my brow, straightened my belt, bowed to the judges, and sighed. It was done!
Driving home from the test, I confided in Jeff. I told him all about my fears of forgetting and how my fears made me forget even more than ever. He told me how proud of me he was. He had seen all of the work I put in to get this far in karate. He assured me his questions about my memory were simply out of love and concern. I told him about the verses in Matthew and how I was resolved to live Today to the fullest while it lasted.
“We can’t see what tomorrow may bring. But I want you to know I am with you. We will walk through anything that comes together.” Jeff’s words brought peace and relief to my heart.
The next morning, I wrote an entry of thanksgiving to my Abba Father. He was giving me victory over the fears that had tangled me up. I turned to another page in my Bible, reading,
“There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear because the one who fears is not made perfect in love” (1 John 4:18 NIV).
I thanked God for loving me and teaching me not to fear my unknown future. I thanked Him for blessing me with a husband who loved me enough to face any trouble hand in hand. I thanked Him for giving me challenges and teaching me to “Enjoy the Ride.” Surely His love was larger than any danger that I faced.
I was ready to keep striving for excellence at this new advanced belt level. These kata forms were growing me. They were teaching me to trust the One who remembers the sparrow and never forgets me.
